Friday, January 25, 2013

A Letter of Gratitude

My letter of gratitude.


Dearest lips with the detonating voice that has shaken the hearts of people,
Thank you for voicing my minds out. Thank you for being strong enough to withstand any debates even when you exhaust with all the words being driven out, even when you're not that as red as Snow White's lips anymore, and even when you carry all of the dryness in it. Thank you, for making me able to do such thing as debating and speaking. Thank you for allowing me to introduce my voice to the people, to give my most dazzling smile, thank you for excluding myself when I need to, and thank you for being able to help me embracing other's heart with your words. Thank you for fulfilling my wishes to become a debater, speaker, someone who thinks words are one of the best way to move others.

Dearest pink-colored brain with all the neurons and capillaries,
I owe you for making my life as my life. You have expand my world by your toughness while thinking about stuff further more. "How" and "Why" are your best words of all time. Thanks for arranging my schedule, even when sometimes it got mixed up, I still understand the troubles to remember what you need to do in several days. I know the problems you've got through to remember names, but thank you for being able to remember notes and words, thank you for digesting the gold knowledge, thank you for helping me with school, and thank you for motivating me by keep reminding me about my dreams and hopes. And to put them high.

Dearest 2.25 minus black-browned eyes,
I know how it feels to feel that everything around you is uncertain. There's no sharpness in every thing you see, and sometimes, you need to work hard just to make sure things are seen better. All of these matters came because of my careless act of taking care you. Came from my bad habit of reading books even when there's barely light, and it's hurting you, yes. But still, I am grateful to have you. Being able to at least differ the colors, grasp the condition, is so much better than seeing this world in dark. Sometimes I got in a point that there might be possibilities for me to lose my sight, suddenly being surrounded by the darkness, and in one point, regretting myself of not being grateful enough with what kind of condition you had. And that's when I got up and realize how it's just a dream. How I wish I would care you better, but I'll still try to do my very best to appreciate and value you. My worst nightmare would be not being able to see light in reality, yet I'm able to see the sparkles on my dreams. Isn't that pitiful? You might hope to be able to live in your dream if you're able to see anything only in it. Yet, I'll give no regret on everything I've seen. Things are seen to be known and to be learned, and thus, thank you for making me able to see things I want to explore.

Dearest pointy nose with what-my-Dad-called-as-perfection,
Some people live without realizing your true main role. Some might just say, "Hell yeah, it's for breathing," and some will just pass off giving opinions since sometimes you look as if you're just another piece of making a face look perfect. However, could you find yourself being somewhere without a "smell"? Even when you're asleep, you got accustomed to the smell around you, that makes you think you're safe, you're in your room, you're ready to sleep, just like how eyes help you recognize everything. One does not simply explain your specific part of the action, but I still claim you as another important role in my life. How people get really interested with the pointy-ness of you, and how your existence fulfill the perfection of myself, gratefully. I am not a person to tell whether someone's beauty comes out with the sharpness of thy's nose, but here I am absolutely sure, that ignoring you will simply put an end to life. Even if I got troubled so much when we had influenza, but did you know my relief when realized that I'm able to breathe just that normal again. Or when we went to a nice scenery, did you know how I feel when I smelled my surroundings? It's just marvelously refreshing. Or, when I got a rose perfume from my Mum, did you remember how happy I was to be able to know how rose smells like? It's just... thank you for existing in my life.

Dearest hair as black as the night sky,
Some people have expanded their creativity by having new hair colors, while I'm not. I'm being creative by having it black, so thank you for staying that way. I always treasure you, being so proud every time someone says how nice you look, taking credit for your beauty. I know the sun has been bad lately, slowly turning you into brownish, but thank you for still trying to stay black and thick. Every morning, seeing you made me feels way better to pursue the day. No matter how many you fall, you keep growing. So thank you for having faith on my head, knowing that it will be no good for me to be bald or sacrificing yourself to protect my head. You deserve your treat--being touched tenderly.

Dearest cheerful hands and feet who bring me to new world, new places every second,
I cried one time when you start shaking. I thought I'm gonna lose you, a bit exaggerated, but who knows what will happen. Thank you for hanging there when I wanted to try playing Cello, drums, piano, writing, running, and doing all of those fun things. Thank you for supporting me through your capability.

Dearest ears which are allergic to earrings,
It might be an alert that I'm fine without jewelry, so thank you for letting me know. A lot of beautiful sounds have been produced by humankind, and I'm lucky enough to enjoy them. Some of my kind don't even know how it feels to listen to Classical music, to listen how bad your cello performance is, to hear your mother's calling your name, to hear your dad singing along with you, to recognize the twinkling voice of those you love dearly. Without you, I might have missed dozens of wonderful chronicles that the world gives us freely. Thank you for letting me experience those good memories.

I may not be able to name all of you, which is sad, but truly, a letter of gratitude for this body who has supported me for the last eighteen years, and I do hope it will keep supporting my dreams for the next years, long way to go. Your body is a gift that God has specially granted to you, for your own, with your own trademark, and its own functions. Some may not stay very long, mostly because your own recklessness. But again, thank you for hanging there for me.

Thank you for being my body, dear physical shape.

3 Tahun


Jumat malam waktu Amerika. Nyaris enam bulan sejak pertama kali saya menjejaki negeri Paman Sam nan adidaya, multicultural.
Sudah Sabtu pagi di Indonesia. 26 Januari 2013.
26 Januari 2013. Dan saya benar-benar lupa.
Sahabat saya berbaik hati mengingatkan.
"Sudah tiga tahun, Din," katanya. Tulisnya.
Lalu saya menyela. Bukan Januari, tapi Februari. Saya berusaha membela diri dari fakta bahwa saya perlahan lupa.
Bahkan agaknya satu-dua detik untuk memproses namanya.
Dan saya memutuskan untuk menulis.
Kalau tiga tahun yang lalu, berarti 26 Januari 2010. Semester akhir saya di SMP. Saat-saat menegangkan untuk memutuskan mau lanjut ke mana.
Tahun lalu, 2008, tanggal 4 Oktober, saya bertemu dia untuk pertama kalinya setelah mengobrol via pesan singkat.
Lalu kalau tidak salah, tahun 2008, akhir kelas 7, pertama kali mengenal yang namanya Afiq. Saat itu saya ikut olimpiade bidang Biologi tingkat provinsi. Kompetisinya cukup sulit, tapi saya bahagia bisa bertemu banyak orang baru. Lalu satu detik, satu saat krusial ketika saya menoleh, saat kami semua berbaris di tengah ruang yang begitu sempit, saya mendapati mukanya. Kaus hitam, semuanya teringat jelas.
Itu hari terakhir kami di olimpiade, hari itu juga kami pulang. Dan tidak lebih dari tiga jam sebelum pulang, saya bertemu dia. Melihat dia, lebih tepatnya.
Kesannya dingin, tidak ramah tapi terkadang lucu. Kami nyaris tidak pernah mengobrol. Bahkan saya dekat dengan temannya daripada dia. Kalaupun mengobrol, sangat singkat. Itupun via elektronik. Tapi saya bahagia. Kalau ini yang dibilang cinta monyet—puppy love—anak SMP, mungkin saya terkena virusnya.
Karena pada dasarnya saya penasaran, saya mencari tahu.
Gali lagi, gali terus. Lalu saya tahu. Mendadak seperti ensiklopedia berjalan yang hanya tahu tentangnya.
Saya tahu tanggal lahirnya, nama panjangnya, sifatnya, pandangannya, sekolahnya. Nyaris semuanya, tapi itu semu. Saya tahu karena media, bukan karena nyata. Saya nyaris tidak tahu aslinya bagaimana.
Lalu semuanya mulai naik tingkat. Pernahkah terlintas setidaknya sekali, dalam harinya, nama saya di pikirannya? Atau sekilas wajah saya? Atau kata-kata saya?
Saya mungkin suka padanya. Kalau itu definisi tertarik pada lawan jenis.
Lalu kami bertemu lagi, duduk berhadapan dari sisi ke sisi ruangan, berlomba dengan tim masing-masing. Saya tidak tahan untuk tersenyum. Atau tertawa. Atau berusaha menjawab. Saya ingat dia, saya tahu dia, mungkinkah dia ingat saya juga?
Timnya meraih juara. Saya tidak kuat diri untuk menyelamati langsung. Kami kalah di semi final. Saya pun mengirim pesan selamat. Dan dia membalas. Mungkin pesannya akan saya simpan kalau saja saya tidak mengganti telepon genggam.
Lalu semuanya mendadak mengalir lagi. Kami nyaris tidak pernah bertegur sapa. Nyaris tidak pernah berkirim salam. Saya nyaris lupa. Tapi saya tahu ada dia.
Dia lulus SMP, saya masih harus menjejaki kelas 9. Dia pergi ke salah satu sekolah Islam terbaik di tanah air kami. Saya pernah bermimpi untuk masuk sana, dan ternyata dia mendapatkan mimpi kecil saya. Seperti mimpi sendiri.
Lalu segalanya terasa begitu sempurna, dia terlalu sempurna. Mungkin tidak sesosialis yang saya kira, tapi kalau ada sosok manusia yang saya inginkan, sifatnya yang saya bayangkan. Hidupnya yang saya kagumi. Bukan, saya mungkin tidak menyukainya. Kagum. Satu dari seribu, saya pikir saya tidak akan bertemu dengan manusia seperti dia.
Lalu 26 Januari 2010. Saya mungkin masih ingat di mana saya duduk saat itu. Kelas apa yang sedang saya lakukan saat itu—Kelas Komputer, sekitar jam 9 pagi. Satu pengumuman dari salah seorang sahabat saya yang dulunya satu kelas dengannya. Tidak panjang, singkat, simpel.
"Telah berpulang ke Rahmatullah, Afiq."
Saya sadar kalau saya menangis di saat saya seharusnya tidak menangis, karena pendekatan emosi saya berbeda dengan orang lain. Dan saya menangis saat itu, saat kelas tengah berlangsung. Bukan karena saya suka padanya. Mungkin karena saya mendadak sadar, saya nyaris lupa akannya. Saya nyaris lupa.
Sahabat saya tahu. Semua berduka cita seakan perasaan saya runtuh. Meski pada nyatanya saya nyaris tidak mungkin bertabrak jalur dengannya, tapi tidak ada yang tidak mungkin, bukan? Mungkin di salah satu sisi otak saya sempat terpikir angan bahwa suatu hari nanti saya akan bertemu lagi dengannya, mungkin punya masa depan yang sama, atau sekedar menjadi sahabat penuntun. Setidaknya berpapasan di jalan kami menuju masa depan.
Dan dia menyudahi perjalanannya sekilat itu. Bukan, Tuhan yang menyudahinya. Tuhan yang menginginkannya. Kata mereka, dia menghembuskan napas terakhirnya saat sedang membaca Al-Quran. Kata mereka, dia selalu punya masalah dengan jantungnya. Kata mereka, siapa yang menyangka.
Tidak ada kata mereka itu karma. Mulia? Mungkin kata kalian itu biasa, tapi bagi saya dia mulia. Lalu saya ingat lagi. Ingat agar tidak hilang. Saya butuh ingatan itu.
Lalu tahun ini, 2013.
Saya terbenam dengan kebahagiaan saya sendiri, saya terkadang lupa dengan apa yang melewati saya.
Apa mungkin Tuhan tidak ingin saya mengingat sama sekali? Tidak ada peran kecil di dunia, bukan? Hanya karena saya adalah seseorang yang mengagumi dia dari kejauhan bukan berarti peran saya kecil? Bukan berarti saya tidak berhak mengingatnya?
Saya tahu saya lupa. Saya lupa sama sekali. Dan itu menyedihkan. Sesosok manusia yang begitu saya kagumi, mungkin pernah saya idamkan, saya lupa. Apa saya terbenam di kebahagiaan dunia lalu lupa terhadapnya? Atau ini pengingat lagi akan sosoknya yang saya kagumi? Pengingat untuk kembali lagi ke rutinitas kebaikan saya—or whatsoever you name it.
Manusia punya tendensi untuk menghubung-hubungkan kejadian universal dengan diri kita sendiri. Karena pada dasarnya kita egois, self-centered. Dan wajar, saya menghubungkan semua kejadian ini dengan diri saya sendiri, dengan filosofi selogis mungkin. Mungkin ini benar-benar tamparan keras bagi saya yang mulai lupa.
Saya yang mulai lupa betapa spesialnya tanggal 16 September dan 26 Januari itu.
Atau ini hanya penjelasan panjang lebar tentang keegoisan saya untuk membela diri karena lupa?
Entahlah.
Salam dari dunia, Afiq. Semoga engkau nyaman di sisi-Nya.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Jurnalis


Begini ceritanya.
Orang bilang menulis itu ajaib. Bukan orang sih, aku yang bilang begitu.

Aku. Aku.

Menulis itu ajaib, kadang menghilang tapi masih di sini. Menulis itu magis.

Lalu menulis dunia? Epic.
Bayangkan saja bola dunia terbuat dari kata-kata. Hitam-putih, tapi kalau diresapi, maknanya bias.

Lalu wajah orang-orang di dalamnya. Tidak perlu ragu untuk menerka, langsung baca saja. 

Peduli.

Pendiam.

Amarah.

Semangat.

Ironi.

Duka.

Bahagia.

Asmara.

Malu.

Semuanya terbaca.

Lalu, bagaimana dengan alam? Bagaimana mendeskripsikan alam? Bebas.

Idealis, rasionalis, semuanya jadi satu. Tidak perlu memilih, tidak perlu berpihak.

Campur aduk jadi satu adonan khusus berjudul istimewa.
Terkadang terkesan megah, bahkan yang membaca pun tidak mengerti.
Semakin tidak mengerti judulnya, semakin menarik dibacanya.
Judul tidak berarti, tidak ada yang membaca.

Layaknya pasar, menulis itu menjual. Toko.
Menarik pembaca untuk terjun menyelami otak penulis, atau mendorong pembaca untuk membuka halaman baru setelah satu paragraf.

Berdegup kalau ada yang melewati. Otakku tidak dibaca. Otakku tidak menarik.

Lalu gairah yang sama muncul lagi, menulis lagi, bertekad untuk membuat mereka yang melewati halamanmu merasa menyesal karena... tulisanmu.

Simpelnya, aku mungkin ingin jadi jurnalis juga.
Menulis untuk majalah politik atau National Geography.
Jadi bagian revolusi dunia yang berkembang setiap saatnya.

Mungkin jadi jurnalis tidak buruk, ja?

Thursday, January 17, 2013

First Blizzard

It was 7 pm at night. Feels weird indeed. It just felt like bunch of hardened messy rain that's quite slippery. You just feel it hits your face but you can't really see the whiteness of it since it's night and it's dark already.

Indeed, this is my first snow. I am happened to grow up in a tropical island, and being able to be an exchange student to a four seasons country such as America made me realize that there's a lot of new things that I should experience to call my life a life. Some Americans don't even realize that some of their experiences might become priceless to some people. Including me.

The news was spreading really fast. Tomorrow is supposed to be my last midterm, Art and Honors Anatomy. I haven't studied at all. I was just waiting on the couch for that right moment when my host mother said it's snowing.

And there she was, saying that her car was covered with snow. I immediately ran to my room, grab jacket, hat, gloves, boots, and ran outside with my camera, of course with my host sister. I asked her to film me having my first snowy experience. She filmed it alright, along with my camera getting wet. It was the first time I had an idea to buy a waterproof camera. Might consider it later.

We walked quite some time, along the neighborhood (which is quite empty, but it feels peaceful, which is nice). We met some of the children that live on the other house, and they were as excited as I was. I am, right now.

We went back home and started to clean up. I already had some flu, and because of the snow, I had to snort out some mucus again.

And then I decided to walk outside by myself. To feel it.

And I felt it to the core of my bone.
My first snow. First time being hit by the snow flurries. That bright, emptiness feeling. When you see the flakes fall on the street, it looks like the snow is so tender and gentle.

And you couldn't resist not running to the street and feel the drop by your own flesh.
And suddenly you felt it hit your face hard. You can't even open you eyes because it keeps hitting you. White cold ice that magically fell from the sky. It's pitch black, and suddenly it's white.

You hardly can see, but when you try enough, you will finally able to see what is exactly falling from the sky.

Then you feel like the world is stopped for a moment. While the snow keeps hitting you tenderly, you realized that there's a lot of things that have happened in your life that you didn't feel graceful about it yet. Just like millions of Americans who probably hate snow yet they never realized how lucky they are to be born in a land that can be covered with the white, pure fluff blanket called snow.

As simple as being grateful with what surrounds you, life has become wonderful itself.

I cried. I have lived my life for eighteen years and I forgot to be grateful of lots of things that have happened, yet I cried for something that might be usual for most people.

Being in a snow raining was a wonderful experience, especially the first drop to your city. No matter how some people really hate the cold, I loved it, always do, and will always.

So basically... That's what happened when you just had your first snow.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Please Ignore Vera Dietz

A very teenage, light type novel, I found this story quite amusing--and confusing, in the same time. I won't brag about the details of it like I did previously (since it's 12.01 am and I was supposed to go to sleep), but basically, the story is about a girl named Vera Dietz who tried to get over her ex-best friend and crush who just recently died of an accident, the story behind the accident, some notes from the dead kid, and notes from Vera's father as well. The story went round and round that you're having quite a hard time understanding the plot.

But again, this book is a very light type of book, so you don't really have to worry not understanding it, because you will, eventually.

I like how both character tried to struggle with each other's feelings, with Vera (the main character) was trying to get over Charlie's death, their memories together, how Charlie was also struggling to stay away from her because he knew that he's not for her, she's too classy that he wished he's as classy as she is.

The main thing about this book is that it's not like that Romeo and Juliet kind of book. It's totally different and light. You won't see such kind of love intensity in Twilight in this book, which is why for those who are looking for a killing time book, this might be an option.

It still holds some cute, tragic love story in it, which is not overdone.

Anyway, gotta drink my Delsym. Had quite sore throat these pas couple days.

Saturday, January 5, 2013

Kangen

Or miss, in English.

For those who may have noticed, I am personally trying to minimize the usage of word miss in case of miss you as a person, not miss as a title that labeling me as an unmarried girl. Woman, fine.

And yes, I want to clarify, I minimize it as small as not using it at all because of certain reasons, but none of those reasons is that I don't miss you at all, especially while being an exchange student. Or I should have done this way back then when I was away for a conference in Copenhagen, Denmark, or when I stayed by myself for the past two years--being away from my parents to go to a high school which has changed my life so far, although I used to resent it--the high school.

Peculiar might describe me better as I am not trying to be cynical about myself. A very hard logically-minded-wannabe person that I even try to eliminate any kind of possibilities for me to lose to most of human's weakness--feelings. Emotions, basically. I am the kind of person who you think doesn't exist in such normal life, such person that you think I have made my life hard when you can make it easy without thinking hard--in some way. No, I'm basically thinking over the action-reaction process in human's life.

Anyway.
A lot of things that seem really easy for us to say or do can actually driven us to destruction, feelings found in the losing side (quoted from Sherlock's Scandal in Belgravia), things that might actually stir us worse than it should. Things that made the condition worse, which is losing to your weakness. Your own side. Some people might think that failing is a good way to achieve success, but failing when you knew the first path to achieve success yet you made that 'I want to try new things' decision and stir things to other way and mess it up, some people call it Taking Risks. I mostly call it an irrational, foolish way to drive your life. I mean, humans have brain not only to make sure you open your mouth when you eat, right? Or your spinal cord, if we're talking about those muscles. We have brains because we were given the chances to choose, to make decision, to think, to pick, and as the human nature we have, pick for the best one.

Way over board, indeed.
Anyway.

Losing to your own weakness, you let yourself being lured to the things that might drive you to that deep cliff of unhappiness. Nothing to achieve, even worse, you can't even stand up. Having something that you tried not to get lured into is like avoiding meat when you're a vegan although you used to love meat with all of your heart content. And the feelings when you finally let yourself get into the trap that you set and let it being visible... Is like the feelings of being slapped by the things you think you can overcome with. The feelings of not being able to even overcome yourself, to pass your limit, to not get lured, make you think that you won't achieve anything. Even the easiest thing that you've set right in front of your eyes is unavoidable, so how come you can achieve great things?

Missing you, some people said, might be so easy to say, less than two seconds to type, less than a second to blurt out. That mankind's natural feeling to long for someone or something that used to hang around them, by their side, wanting them to come back, wanting to go back to the same situation again, is one of the hardest obstacles men have to fight against. It's like... Longing to your comfort zone, again. Longing for parts of your life that has no worry and you know exactly what's happening and you're under control.

Some people said its the most humane thing that connects lots of people (well, my theory). When you said you miss somebody, that words give warmth and comfort, and feelings of being longed, just like mankind, longing and long to be longed, get it?

That's why I'm avoiding the usage of it. Not because I don't want people to see my weakness of longing something or somebody. But because if I do use it, I will keep hitting the same thick wall that made my long, adventurous, peculiar journey pause for long time. It made me waiting, made me standing on the same spot for years. To let myself being lured to the need of comfort zone, like what most likely happen to every exchange student, is like... Failing your exchange year right before you even achieve something. Because being away is not for you to realize that you have such a comfort zone and you can't wait to go back there.

But to realize that life is beyond your comfort zone, to be grateful that God has given you such opportunity to get away from your comfort zone, to aim higher, to be grateful (again) with what you've got before--the past comfort zone, and to always step in to a new, strange, quirky place and make it into your other comfort zone, until, this whole universe has become your comfort zone and you have nowhere to feel afraid or longing for something.

Besides, you can always run to your bedroom if you need one.

Have a wonderful year!