The Place

Do you know about the place?
That is cool by day and warm by night?
Where the day is shaded and the night is bright?

Such an odd place, peculiar and strange
The feelings, invoked on all range
You are relaxed yet passionate
Tucked up yet animate

It is a place of vacation and vocation
Of serene sounds and gorgeous view
Lest you forget of what is due
Yes, it is the place of to be and to do
It has my heart too, it has my soul
It is the place where I become whole
And just like magic tales, the name has three words
It's so beautiful, only the third, the last one can be heard

Something something Miranda

The place
The home
The high above
The woman that I love

RSCM Lintas Waktu

Made for someone that matters.

Save an Arrow

As I rest my eyes upon her
and present myself to her presence
Cupid appears before me
and lifts up his bow and arrow

You can go home today, I said
Save yourself an arrow, I continued
The thing you want for me
That thing I already am

*written on a train ride because of reasons

Most Happiest

Today I had lunch with a friend. She was telling me about her love life when she said something about how she picked a significant other. She only picked someone whom she thought would make a good companion. She wasn’t bothered much about his status or wealth. A good companion... That was her criterion.

There’s nothing revolutionary about the above paragraph. However, like most old, overused ideas, its sense of weight only grows larger as I grow older. I too, can’t agree more. A good companion... That is also what I’m looking for.

When I wrote Encounters, I was talking about how although it doesn’t seem likely, people do meet and connect. It is this kind of bond that I crave, a relationship where you truly see and be seen. I remember when Patrick Jane, the protagonist of the series The Mentalist, spent his days in seclusion somewhere in Central America, he had no one to talk to. Everyone was speaking Spanish, a language he’s still adopting. One day, he met a woman at the beach. She was an American. Patrick Jane eagerly tried to start a conversation with her, anything he could think of. It had been a long time since he talked in English and he missed it. “Being understood is an underrated pleasure,” he said in a reflective tone.

Being understood is a great pleasure for me too. And also of course, if I may add, understanding someone. Perhaps it’s because secretly, I’m afraid of loneliness. Perhaps it’s because like the thinking behind The Celestine Prophecy, I’m an incomplete person, looking for completeness in the soul of others, making it some kind of a defect that I have.

I don’t know.

Although, sometimes I think it’s simply because deep down, I believe that happiness doesn’t mean a thing unless it is shared.

I don’t like people in general, so that is an odd thing for me to say. I’m a quiet extrovert though, so it kinda makes sense. And although I’ve often times said that I hated people, it amazes me that almost all my fondest memories always involve someone. May it be a moment with friends or lovers, I’m happiest when I’m with someone. It’s funny.

When the film Into the Wild was released, my friend warned me not to watch it. I had always shown a tendency of doing things alone that he was afraid it would make me worse. I think he was dead wrong. The film was about a young man who was disgusted by people and the social structure and so lived his life in the wild in isolation. It didn’t work out for him. His supplies ran out and he was forced to eat plants, accidentally eating the poisonous one. In the last moment of his life, he wrote his realization in his book, “Happiness only real when shared.”

I guess the theme resonates in a lot of hearts, because a lot of films seem to adopt it. After having a great success without the presence of his wife, Jerry Maguire said, “Our little company had a good night tonight. A really big night. But it wasn't complete, it wasn't nearly close to being in the same vicinity as complete, because I couldn't share it with you. I couldn't hear your voice, or laugh about it with you.” Even Barney Stinson of How I Met Your Mother said, “Whatever you do in this life, it’s not legendary unless your friends are there to see it.”

I’ve always wanted someone. I guess I’m one of those miserable people who were born to share. There’s hardly anything grander for me than a true and honest connection. It's a must have for me. We may come into this world alone and leave it alone, but I think... it doesn't always have to be that way.

Slip vs. Skip

While most people may lose some sleep over contemplation on grave matters, Sleeping Sixty lost hers because she’s busy pondering the difference between the word slip and skip.

Sleeping Sixty is a 28 year old woman with the enthusiasm of an 18 year old and gullibility of an 8 year old. She is an expert snoozer and is always on the six of all things tasty, hence the name Sleeping Sixty (so sixty is not how much she weighs). Her mind is sadly clouded with paraphasia, a type of language output error. That means she can say cupang (hickey) while what she means is cuping (lobe), two very different things. She can also say towel or milk while in fact she’s trying to say antibiotics, proving the severity of her condition. I once read her message in horror when we were talking about a spirit haunting the laboratory. She told me to whisper her regards into the apparition’s dens caninus (fang) when she really meant auricula (ear). I, for one, certainly don’t want to be anywhere near the ghost, let alone her fangs.

It is not strange then to have Sleeping Sixty awake in the middle of the night thinking about slip vs. skip. She knew that both words were very different, yet she couldn’t figure out why they felt eerily similar. She tried to come up with different examples on how both words could be used interchangeably, but ended up empty handed. Sentences like “We just skip this night” vs. “We just slip this night” or “The meat slipped between her teeth” and “The meat skipped between her teeth” crossed her mind but they just didn’t work.

I, who happened to be an innocent bystander messaging her at the time, was also unenthusiastically dragged into the problem. Slip usually means “to fall” (she slips over the puddle of water, the profit slips in November) or “to move quietly” (he slips through the night). Skip, on the other hand, usually means “to hop” (he skips on the road when he is happy) or “to omit” (she skips breakfast). In a glance, there’s really nothing in common about the two, yet I too secretly felt what Sleeping Sixty felt. There’s a sense of similarity between the words.

It wasn’t until the next day that I found out an example where the two words could actually be used interchangeably. It is for describing the word attention. For instance, "The matter slipped my attention" vs. "The matter skipped my attention." In it, the word slip and skip may have different meanings (“to move [out] quietly” vs. “to omit”) but the end result is the same. Both sentences mean that one matter is devoid of my attention.

Sleeping Sixty turned out to be right. There are times when the words bring out the same meaning. Another example, although basically the same, is for describing the word mind. For instance, "Sleeping Sixty rarely slips my mind" vs. "Sleeping Sixty rarely skips my mind." It’s a terrible example, I know, but you’ve got the point.

First Words of 2013

Do you remember the first words you say on new year? I usually don’t, but I remember mine last night, all thanks to the cat.

When the clock almost hit midnight last night, we were on a KFC spot on Kemang. She had this whole vow not to eat mammals and fowls but that day she was breaking it. I wasn’t hungry so I stayed outside while she was ordering food. The joint was festal and very loud because it’s in South Jakarta where even, I lie you not, fast food joints have their own sexy dancers. However, besides dancers, the KFC I was on also have this fireworks display going. That’s why I was outside, because I wanted to see it. And that’s why she was inside, because she’s scared of all the sound..., and of course because she wanted some poultry.

Anyway, the next day she asked me about my first word when the year turned. I was startled and couldn’t respond. “Well, I remember mine,” she said. She told me that right at midnight when people were screaming and counting down, she was instead yelling and ordering. Her first words were ‘upper thigh’. Not exactly profound words, I say. Of course, she meant them as a part of chicken she wanted but they’re actually not a far cry from the cat’s infamous sexual almost pornographic aura. So they still fit her perfectly. I then told her I still couldn’t remember mine, but at least my first words were with her because I didn’t talk to anyone else after the countdown. Laughing, she told me that in that case she knew what my first word was. It was a ‘no’, a simple ‘no’. It turns out that when I sat next to her, she offered me her food but I passed and said, “no”. Great, my word was even more superficial.

Well, I guess if first words in a new year were to describe how the year would turn out, then let’s just wish it would turn out with nays for regression and yays for upper thighs.
Especially if they are the cat’s. ;)

* Happy new year everyone!!!

The Things My Girl Has Ever Done

1. Saying that it was Judas who demanded to touch Jesus' wounds. I still believe it was Thomas.
2. Saying that Moses had an affair and took someone else's wife. I think she was referring to David taking Bathsheba.
3. Insisting that prayers from sinners are heard by God (doa orang-orang berdosa didengarkan Tuhan) because she felt she had read it somewhere in the Bible, only to have second thoughts when I said, "Isn't it supposed to say 'prayers from the oppressed are heard by God' (doa orang-orang teraniaya didengarkan Tuhan)?"
4. Pronouncing bear as beer, while still pronouncing a polar bear as how it is supposed to sound.
5. Pronouncing fusion as fashion.
6. Calling me Poo, without the slightest idea of what it actually means; and not knowing my full name for a full month, despite our relationship.
7. Saying lots of things in English. Some of the time it's American English and some of the time it's her own kind of English.
8. Failing to tell a buffalo from a cow. She once said that her Chinese zodiac was the cow.
9. Failing to tell a lion from a tiger.
10. Making one plate of fried rice with seasoning enough for two, forcing her guest at the time to live with the consequences.
11. Making very well-done toasts with too much jelly in it, forcing her guest at the time to live with the consequences.
12. Making a plate of spicy rice with one fourth of processed chilli, forcing her guest at the time to live with the consequences.
13. Putting me in a lot of mysery, agitation, and stress that sometimes make me want to go, "Aargh!" on her.
14. Running back to a bookshop while her flight was almost leaving, just to get me a few books.
15. Forcing me to study, because most of the time I won't.
16. Never failing to make me smile again, no matter how many times I want to go, "Aargh!" on her.
17. Telling her stories for hours nonstop, playing her loud music while she's driving, screaming around at random moments, making me miss her when she's not around to keep my ears full.

I care about my girl.
A lot.

A Good Night

Let me write this just for the sake of it.

In the midst of cold air and warm feeling,

I just had a g...


...great night.

I Want Money, a Whole Lot of It

There's a time in every weekday when I close my eyes and shut the world outside. The time varies but the place is always the same. It's a street right beside Jatinegara market. As the bus that takes me home passes it, I will be found cowering, eyes tight until I'm sure I'm well off the place.

I never have the guts to see,

not with all the horrid torture that's going on.

Seeing in Retrospect and Saying, "Aw Dude..."

I found a journal I had completely forgotten writing a few days ago. It's only got five entries, so no wonder I couldn't remember.

It doesn't change the fact that I was very happy when I found it, however, because I don't keep notes about events of my life very often (even this blog mostly consists of articles, not private writings). So finding it is like having a second chance to relive a particular moment. I mean, you can imagine how much connection you can have by reading your own writing if in daily basis you already relate to writings of people you don't even know.

Anyway, I'm not going to post the five entries here, just two... Well, one and a half, because one is just the cover. The entry was written on August 31st, 2008. To give it some context: I just graduated from med school, didn't have a clue about what to do in life, and it was a day before I went on a road trip with my best friends. There were supposed to be eight of us, but one female friend, that I cared very much, cancelled at the last minute. Her mother and boyfriend at the time told her not to go.

It shouldn't have been a very special case to me. Sure, it's upsetting but people cancel all the time, right? The only problem was, then, I was so engulfed with her situation. She hated her boyfriend, while her strict mother worshiped him. Obviously, I responded the way an unstable man in his mid-twenties would. I acted like a passionate hero.

Clearly, this ended up with a disaster, a whole year of it as a matter of fact. However, it also spawned a lot of good other things. What happened next was one of the reasons I started this blog, although the aftershocks, which were definitely not smaller in scale, hit me so hard that I left it for a good four months in 2009.

All in all, the journal gave me back a piece of memory I didn't know I still had, about a moment right before a great fall. And now, looking back from the safe and understanding future, I just can't stop saying to myself, "Aw Dude... You don't know what's coming to you."

Damn, I was off back then. :)

The Man Who Is My Father

If there’s one thing I like about growing up, it’s that I get to know my parents better.

As years of my life flip like a torn up calendar, I begin to take a lot of things in the way I see my parents. It almost seems that every now and then I have a chance to do these completely new close-up shots of them that I didn’t even know before. They started out as Mom and Dad, figures of authority who brought me to this reality, but ended up as a dude and a girl who happen to be my parents.

I quite enjoy it.

I don’t know exactly how it happens. Maybe it’s because as I get older, my life and my parents’ start to mirror each other (you’ve got less change when you’re older, right?). But one thing for sure, it always keeps me nailed in place every time I find their old photographs or hear some revealing stories about them, which are curiously always come from someone else.

Blackberry: Gallivanting towards Collective Awareness?

For the past week, I’ve been using the friggin’ device. Apparently my old cellphone couldn’t stand being submerged underwater (along with the handler as a matter of a fact) for a good 15 seconds.

Anyhoo, I wasn’t exactly ecstatic of using it. And the reason was simple. It was too much of a cost for something I wasn’t sure of needing. And of course, there’s also that thing about my obsessive-compulsive tendency which would surely give me a pain in the ass if I ever tried to build a whole new set of meticulously detailed contact list,
which
only a smart phone can give.
Hoh…

Nevertheless…
Here I am now, BBMing (if there is such a term) my fingers off. I haven’t got any problem with my contact list also (since I strategically haven’t started building it).

The Path to Redemption Starts Yesterday... Or Much Earlier

I'm starting to build my life with true blocks of medicine again, I guess.
I just hope the beauty of ideas doesn't elude me.

Have always been stuck within the two worlds anyway, so why not just have fun with it?
An MD and a jack of all idea-trades.
Kekeke...

Reality

Infinity times infinity.
No words suffice.

The Omen

Rain has been pouring heavily for the past few days, putting my neighborhood in a constant threat of flood.

My friends' relationships crumble to dust, leaving a trace of broken hearts.

A friend of a friend's car had a short circuit that broke into a real fire and real smoke.

A series of random unrelated contained events?

Perhaps.
Or maybe it's something else entirely.

Sometimes, the bad things around us happen as a natural and logical consequence of another bad thing,

which is exactly what happens to my world right now.

Yep,

Rick has come back to town.

In Greater Sense

Have you experienced something like this?

• There's a well-known saying or sentence.
• Somewhere along your life, you suddenly find a much deeper meaning in that sentence, and you begin to see why it is so popular in the first place.
• You feel excited, ecstatic about this new understanding that has been revealed to you.
• You call your friend, telling him/her about it, hoping he/she will get the excitement that you get.
• But you're left disappointed, upset, and frustrated because your friend doesn't see your perspective. He/she is trapped in the popularity of the sentence, failing to see something valuable because it is heard too many times.
• So in frustration you say, "No, there's a wholly deeper meaning to it. If you see it, you'll get fired up like I do."
• "Okay," your friend says. "So tell me then."
• You open your mouth, but lo and behold, you can't find any words to explain it.
• And after a while of silence, you have no choice but saying that very same sentence again, no words added or subtracted, only with louder voice.
• And your friend replies, "Of course. I know that. It's obvious, isn't it?

Aaargh!
I hate it when it happens.

A couple of days ago, I had it TWO times in a day! One's involving a philosophical idea (not gonna touch it), and one's about Indonesia.

This is what I said.

Someone to Ignore Me

I have this female friend.
We barely see each other, and even if we did, we would just drown ourselves in consuming what's on the table in front of us or watching our surroundings.
In a way, she's not a best friend to me, and neither am I to her (I think).
However, I always consider my relationship with her as... something unique.

Why?

Because she's close enough for me to share the deeper things, but not close enough to get me hurt if she doesn't listen at all, which she most likely will.
It's not that she completely ignores me, she hears me, in fact, she listens attentively, it's only that she just doesn't take it all by heart.
Or basically, she doesn't give a shit.

I know how bad it looks, but actually, it can be helpful sometimes.
Especially in times when I feel like my head is going to explode and I'm already jaded of going through every bit of the problem over and over again.
When I decided to talk to her, occasionally, her stance would get to my perspective.
I would come to realize that the once-larger-than-universe-problem was something that didn't deserve my full throttle attention and worries.
Cool, isn't it?

Yeah well, anyway, I don't recommend doing that to your friends who desperately need you though.
You can turn up gambling for your friends' life for all you know.

Cyn Says

Cyn is one of my closest friends.
She is this cheerful innocent sprite of a girl and you can see no evil in her.

A couple of days ago, I called her and we talked a lot.
At one moment I explained my opinions surrounding feminism to her.
I said that women, especially in this country, had their heads imprinted with an idea that they could not become a real woman without getting married, thus making their true existence only to become a wife.
“Feminism tries to free women from this false idea,” I said. “It basically says women have the options to pursuit more dreams. They too can change the world instead of just trying to get married.”
Upon hearing this, Cyn said with her signature spritely childish voice, “I am a feminist!”
“Oh, really?” I replied. “And what kind of big goals you have other than getting married?”
“I want to finish reading Madame Wu!” (It is a book she was reading then)
“Uh-huh? What’s so big about that?”
“Of course it’s big,” she said. “It’s something only myself can do. Nobody else can do it for me.”

I remember that her answer silenced me for a while.
It reminded me of the very-private-very-personal-actions.
You know, the actions we do specially for ourselves and influence us firstly and mostly.
Things that nobody else can do for us.
Learning, understanding, experiencing, reading, everything first hand…,
or basically...
the very subjective things,
the opportunities to realize, see everything, and incorporate them profoundly in our souls,
and the only moments when we can truly grow.

Yeah, Cyn was right.
It’s REALLY...

big.

My Name Is Hubertus!

Yes, I have quite an uncommon name in Indonesia.
Somehow, people always have a hard time getting it right, and it gets even worse when I say it on the phone.
I’ve been called Robertus, Albertus, or even Petrus.

The best I’ve got so far is Rubertus.

The worst?
Try changing the first letter to ‘P’.

Yeah.
Great.
Pubertus.

Now who the f*ck in their right mind would name their child ‘Pubertus’?!
It's so disgustingly hormonal!
And It didn’t get any better when the woman on the phone who had kindly blessed me with the name kept repeating it like it’s a normal name or something.

Geez..
Some friends of mine call me Hube.
Does it mean if she ever becomes my friend, I’ll be called Pube?

O My Dear DHF

I just got back from hospital stay. Seven days straight for DHF. Great.
I didn't know it could be a LOT of pain; or bloodier.

Anyway, I planned lots of writings including commentaries before I left. Now, they're just gone. I'm still trying to remember all of them.

So... if the next topics seem like out of date, please bear with me.