You can See Much on A Bus

Taking public transportation makes you not immune for several things. First, pollution, of course. Second, being near to strange people, om om specially. Third, you’re also not immune to hate speech.

I was on my way back home on Sunday. Plead for more dosage of religious sanity. Budi was busy with Go and they would go together for a family lunch, so I didn’t wanna join. On one of the most comfortable bus in Jakarta, 102 (in my opinion, pardon), there came a man. A man with a face you can’t hate, fatherly figure. Thus, when you gaze at him, the depiction of children will emerge on his face. And he told us, the passenger: “Let us fight immorality. Immoralities like prostitution, gambling, et cetera. Those which was popularized by Jewish and Christian people. Now, let us do something, not just silent our actions. Where did all Christian people go when FPI was busy closing the pubs and prostitution? Christian people must also help the Moslem. Do not only quiet! Act! Or maybe they just want to let us act and be happy, laugh out loud when the Moslems died?...and he spoke out few verses from Quran.

I guess, God did not need my fortification. It was me, who needed the power
To stay calm
And still felt blissful that I was going to comfort myself at his/her/or whatever gender it is’s home


N.B: The next day afterward, I was on an ojek, took my way to the university when I saw a BIG baliho on the street saying, "Do not build any church here! If there is a buliding, just prepare for the risk! -Young Moslem Society-"

and it was near. So near to my house.

. .... .....

The diner is nearly closed for it was only the girl and a couple busy with their so called dinner. The girl sat in the seat near to the glass transparent window with dripped water of rain. The toaster was there paralleled a plate with tall neck where on top of it remained few slices of home-made pie. Old man was busy behind the desk counting how much he got for today. The billboard bulbs lost their ray sometimes, that the glowing multiplied colors on wet asphalt appeared on and out, delighted then sublimous grey. It was powerful since the moon was still hiding behind grayish clouds, which just had continued the sea work. Old recorder played Harry James’ It’s Been A Long Time, Dick Haymes’ It Might As Well Be Spring, Blue Moon, even from the Grease soundtrack, blues in the night. This is the setting I wanna go every time I need to cry out loud. Not by disappearing from earth. Guess this situation has a high quality to authority you exanimate yourself.

picture taken from www.film.org

Umeboshi

Narumi was an ordinary girl. Kind, polite, and unfussy. When the others grabbed salem and soft green polo shirts, she just stood in front of the display. The other four were hopping from Zara, Body Shop, Body & Soul, and a lil bit Kinokuniya. And Narumi left herself behind with native girls who also find a shop hop is too happening for them. As someone who had to use body language every time I connected with them, of course I left myself behind too. Tried to make a conversation with Narumi, explaining the name of this mall is Pondok Indah Mall 2 and we were going to Pondok Indah Mall 1… in half an hour gesture talking, which eventually she could understand the meaning by saying 1 is old and 2 is new. Being nice to each other, we gave our contact numbers and tried to gesture other meanings. Later on, Narumi handed me a little cute transparent wrapping with kanji and cartoon on it. What was inside? Umeboshi.
Umeboshi, a brownish round cake, seems like a big ginger candy with jellish texture. It has a solid core on its center, darker than the other side. The umeboshi was a lil bit wet. And I bite a bit. Hard corer than my mom’s jamu kencur. Muscles on my chins wrinkled automatically, and my eyes narrowed.
“Suki?”
“humm..ok. Nice,”said me, smirked, to the nice Narumi.
Tell me other tips to respect others’ traditional food rather than eat it wholly and say that it is ok. While wrinkled and smirked, Go came after me and said, “Ovi san… you should eat it fully at once.”
Thanks for the tips, Go.

so someone said, "Ov, you're smart, but not threatening enough."
Then I considered it means I'm not smart enough.

.....
too sweet, just like brown sugar or jasmine tea wrapped in delightful, firm, wooden craved box. Gratia gusti. Displaying tender view; purplish blossomed flowers on the valley, equaling the face to face touch and soft vocals. Understanding eyes aware of what really happens. Pitiful. Chained before glass ceiling. False consciusness accepted right. Framing the whole that cannot be bursted out.
Untouchable

picture taken from www.wrightslaw.com

I was at the headquarter of the imbecile and pervert but seem and look smart people.
No one interested to come this time.
So I amused myself with this pickled comments of newbees from my beloved friends on scattered papers:

“Gw gak nyuruh dia speech. Maap, ge nggak dikasitau. Gw emang ceroboh…”
(huahahahaha…yeah, it’s not a speech society, dear, but at least… J )

“She likes to speak, definitely. She has a thee-bathing basic and willing to develop it…But she is like an AGJ girl. I don’t know whether or not she will fit in E*S social life, we’ll see…”
(uh…oh… so, she’s normal and mainstream? Let’s just drown her in…hwehehehe…)

“This poor guy doesn’t even understand the questions. He needs me to translate all the questions and answers. He seems to join E*S to meet new girls.”
(Hey, each of us has our own purpose in life.)

“He has the Australian accent. But, he sure is a show off. Dia pamer bgt. To be honest, he was like gurggling rather than giving a speech.”
(Ah, another inter-male jealousy.)

“Shutter a bit, minimum eye contact. Come to think of it, maybe it’s my fault; right after he said he’s going to speak about orientation program at my faculty, I excitedly mentioned I’m in the disciplinary committee for my faculty orientation, so probably his speech was a little under pressure. Sorry…”
(another factor is, perhaps, your beauty myth, moonflower girl! :) )

funny, ya?

spare a thought of me

Hey…
Did not mean to peek-a-boo
Wednesday afternoon after a till dawn girl night talk,
Intended to be polite and seem doing some responsibility.
Mr. President said the interview started from 09.00 a.m. So I came…
At 09.30, of course. Procrastinator am I.
Red dusky carpet with doff orange wall.
Empty.
10.00…
really wanted to do some English, but times like this…who’ll come all the way to this wrecked building. Remote, I say.
No interviewee!!!
humm humm
Okay, Ov, let’s enjoy something.
Yummy…it fells like finding a pearl going through bubbleful straw with milk and blended ice.

“Things I can think of in 30 minutes starting from…
clothes-pants-feet-nail polish-beauty salon-girls-boys-patriarchy-feminism-ovie-mapres-doni-dictactor-hitler-WW II-chaos-poverty-…”

Rewind please…
Feminism-ovie…
Ups
Ovie…
It’s me. *happy*

I wonder, how much more I can find myself exist in others’ mind. This way, I read the artifact by myself. Wondering how much hasn’t been read yet.
It is pleasing, the thought of me.

P.S: you know who you are, writer. Peace yo! J Luv ya!

picture from psychcentral.com

*blush*
this blog is no longer virgin. Hate you, Uliel!!!! hwehehehe
humm...
it was meant to be under-constructed...
humm...
Uliel!!!

A pianist, A singer, and Blackcurrant Tea

Felt dizzy in my head and ailing throat. Makes you pull your thin vein till people say, “How sexy your voice is” while the blood is actually rushing through the narrow tunnel and push the skin, that it is sprayed and spread warmth, in my neck, forehead, and chins.
Longing for my mum’s hot ginger drink.
Couldn’t get it.
Checking phonebook of list of people I think would care for me find some amusement. So this talk-active guy and used-to-be-handsome-but-now-really-in-to-picking-his-own-face was available.
The journey was like a heavenly agony.
Thick smoke of old wrecked bus, which has never banned by the City Council. Harsh voice asking each one on the road to come in, into the ‘Ghost Ship’.
And there was I. With my flowery dress and broken white pointed shoes. Sitting like enjoying being there in the very back of the bus, which I didn’t care. I felt normal, if someone accompanied me. Is it funny how you won’t be awkward when you were with someone? My friend said the word is Insecure. Point is, I asked him to make me feel secure wearing a dress amongst abang-abang in the bus. Otherwise, I’d pick taxi, which is overmhelmingly expensive.

And I enjoyed to talk calm, heard his same old stories about his mad sister, over and over.
Enjoying my warm skin, let touched by polluted wind that sprang in from the bare ‘door’.
Enjoying the heavy eyes which sometimes will do connection with the throat and ask it to do little coughs.
Made me slow down, (seemed) wiser, do not need protection, but it is okay if you come, hug, and warm me.

Then, the next slides are just like beautiful colors of laser shot between creamy sofas with big cushions, glazing white tea pots and cups, and dark hard woody table.
The singer with almost likely Happy Clinic scent, clean jeans, long sleeve shirt, leather shoes, brown sling bag just like mine, and the girl.
The pianist, with always complaining stories, streamy chords, more beautiful face than mine (since it was steamed), cream bathed hair, and the other pianist.
Warm blackcurrant, chunky cheese and chocolate, talks of documentaries.
And old people with new entries, touches and sanities for me.
Snug. Cozy. Inspiring. Broadens.
But it is okay if you come, squeeze, and warm.
Picture by Ov

sign

Then the day came…
Not one, but days that I saw the initials everywhere
On the plates of cars
jericha predominant
okay, bizarrely, I said they have to struggle

though I’ve fulfilled and satisfied
with other’s emergent mind
other’s magnetic corporeal desire
other’s fame

but the day came…
that, remain, To Be Found Soul’s Body is the most welcome to come
and the un-callous wanna strive for whiteness again
enchanting, once more

but the day hasn’t come
that I only want to be enthralled by some
since I like all

Denial, Denial

“…All of those two magazines are still stucked in women domestic stereotype, as can be seen by many articles are mainly about kitchen, recipe, and households…(and one of them is Femina).”-from one of my past writings-

No nipples, no cleavage, no cigarette, no torso. Yes, I’m an interner in a company that does not allow these appealing stuffs appear and become toxic for young girls out there. One day I showed a picture of this young man, member of an instant singer maker reality show originated from South America. No good torso, actually, but still, it’s censored! Wow, yeah, I get it, he’s a member of the big three now, many will dream over him. And girls are not allowed to. It’s too gross and misbehaved.
The magazine is not the problem. The question should be directed to me. What am I doin there? Keep this question. Maybe I’ll answer it. If I have one, though.

Nggak Enak is Uneasy

Monday. Heavy traffic!
But still, woke up at eight, grabbed some toasts with chocolate jam, and got a shower.
Pretty quick. Only took half an hour. So, I went off at 8.30.
Waiting for Bus number 52, Bekasi-Tanah Abang, lewat Komdak, Thamrin.
So I waited.
…though some busses numbered 05 passed by…
I could have been gotten in. But, ah, they’re too crowded.
So I waited
…convined by the less crowded space I’ll get, the pretty cozy seat, and air con…
I could wait, like forever, I thought.
Then a woman dressed in light yellow suit came near.
“Lama ya, Mbak. Nunggu nomor berapa?”, then I told her, number 52.
After one hour had passed…
05 passed in front of me. Slow in pace. Like teasing. No crowd, no people stood, many empty seats.
Hmm…could have gotten in. I could continue my journey with bus number 66 after get out from number 05.
But I did not jump into that white bus. Simply because I felt nggak enak to this young lady, si emba-emba, who started conversations with me.
Uh!
Finally, I got there, Jl. Rasuna Said, at 11.30, by 05 that passed by afterward, stood all the way, took 66. Precisely the same thing I could have done one or two hours before.
Once I stepped into the room, everyone had gone to meetings.
And I felt
unguilty.

An Answer in Few Concepts


“What’s his religion, Vi?” asked my girlfriend.
“Does it matter?” I answered.

If everyone believes and blubbings in big media that all religions are the same, in the measure of each good teachings, then I do not believe that inter religion marriage is unpermissable.

1. One day, live more than one Gods who make and manage this whole world. They have their own followers. Then some of their follwers just get married and live happily, although they have to strain for many difficulties on earth. The Gods smile happily out there, since they are good Gods. They love each other, they are friends, and want to make this universe goes better with the system they created. Thus, inter-religion marriage will not harm them.

2. But, uh, oh, how bout if the Gods were so exclusive? They curse the followers who make family with the followers of other Gods. It makes them sad, they do not want to be the minority, they want to be the only great God ever. Then, if this really happens, it is us who should not follow these selfish Gods.

3. The whole world and universe is created to reach its own aim. Thus, the score of morality will be integrated within the system. This way, humblily accept, I believe that our values in this world are the same with what The Great Power expects. He/She/whatever gender it is won’t ruin the very own system, rite? Then, one bad thing hurt when people do inter religion marriage: ego. Does not matter much. Other big and necessary values are not harmed.

4. Inter religion marriage is unpermissable since two religions can not unite. How cruel. One of the unrelenting deed is interprets “the bright cannot collide with the dark”, plants it deep down your heart, share it with your brotherhood of the same religion just to stake it even more deeper, but still campaigning: Peace On Earth.

P.S: I’ve already set my thought in the humblest and most positive thinking that there is God. The nice one, I mean.

Welcome, Deeper See-er!

I almost agree that they do not worth admiration, even gratitude, that I swithched the channel everytime they show up. The clothes are in too vivid colors. The make-ups…uh. All like plastics.
Then the day came. I had to interview them! Yaahhh…new kid in the office, get the least one. Then, I know. This boy from Makasar, is actually exouduced from Mollucas island. He even did not want to continue his opportunity in this competition. Why? Since the thought of his family keeps on hangin in, he said. His father is a stone lifter, who only earns Rp.20.000,00 a day. This amount must feed the whole family, ten children and one wife. When the other contestants can change their shoes every time they perform, he can’t. Just one old pair of shoes. Last week he got the new one, anyhow. Given by his father who had gotten it from someone else.
Not to mention the others. The boy with grotesque hair, whose my lil brother loves a lot!!, the smiling-a-lot boy with thick javanese accent, and this little cute woman with pinkish pointed shoes everday.
They’ve got their way. It’s the hardwork that counts.
After spending two days in a week with them, I turned the channel that Sunday night just to see these guys.
Then, I swithced it off…
It’s boring still on the surface!!!
That is why, once you see something deeper, you will consider every color that comes to you. Afterwards, each color has their judgement in your head, and you’ll become really selfless. Your mind streches. It is tiring, yet broadens.