Confessions of a 22-Year-Old

On June, 18^th I woke up feeling great. It was my birthday. It was just the normal childish feeling that engulfs you when you know you’ve passed another year, you are older, and in a few moments everyone is going to say their best wishes for you. You feel special.

On June, 19^th, I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking about how on earth I could feel so great when I was turning older and my time was running out. My life just flashed in front of me: my failed ambitions, my square job, my deficit income. And I just cried my heart out, thinking about my choices and the time wasted, wishing that I could go back.

The truth is I almost hate my current occupation. I am still a trainee at the local government’s tax office. No much of anybody yet. My academic status is only from a diploma program (no offence guys). The monthly compensation I get from the government is just enough to cover my housing rent, but for food and expenses… well I’m still burdening my parents and family.

I stared into the future and saw the cramped possibilities. I could go to college again, two years later. An older me – that’s unappealing. But what about marriage? What about my family? Yes, I do have girlish fantasies. I always wanted to settle down at home and be a good wife. Unfortunately, the two ambitions were mutually exclusive for the projected period of time.

I always wanted to study my heart out in something I love and am passionate about, like literature and philosophy. I wanted to study abroad. I wanted to write and teach. Or go to law school and be a great judge. In the process, I wanted to keep inspiring people. But that night, I thought, “I am running out of time. And youth is escaping me”.

Back then, my school days were promising. I worked pretty hard. I got good grades. My teachers gave me support and plenty of assuring compliments. A kid like me thought innocently that they were the promises of a bright and exciting future.

Then my thoughts got back to the details of work. The mound of files. The untidy desks. The cramped workspace. And worst of all, the current institution forced upon me that was last on my choice list: the Tax Ministry. Dear God, I’m still not sure if tax is even legal in my religion. Worst of all is the unreliable system that is prone to so many atrocities. I don’t want to get stuck there. It’s already hard now. What would it be like in the future?

I was slightly ashamed of myself for the uncharacteristic complaining and pathetic crying. But I thought what the heck, yesterday was my birthday and I needed this time for myself. So there I was, sobbing to my best friend about my disappointment in my life and wanting to give up. I let myself be swallowed with the emotions. He tried to talk me out of the self-indulgence and gave me advices: “just live with it for a while”. “You can catch up later”. “Think of it as phase or stepping stone towards your dreams”. But you know what I ungratefully said? I told him to shut up. Haha… I already knew all those things. I told myself those things every day. Then I told him that at that moment I wanted to whine and be selfish, just for a while… And he let me (God bless him).

I continued thinking about how I desperately wanted to drop everything and start again with my ambitions. I could go to university again. I was sure I could do it. But on the other hand, I thought about how much time and money had been spent on my account and how much my parents had sacrificed. And it wasn’t just my parents; the government had been paying for my education, ensuring my job, and paying my salary from the taxpayer’s money. And I don’t think that anyone could guarantee that they were willing considering the fact that their money could’ve gone to other personal benefits.

I sighed. Why wasn’t the thought enough to console me? It only made me feel guilty. But it succeeded in shutting me up, at least.

***

A week later, I was sitting on my bed, sighing pathetically at the doctor’s bill from an appointment I just had the night before. I had been absent from work for almost a week because of a complication of illnesses (I prefer not to mention). I hated that I had to visit the doctor again. It was the fifth (sixth? I honestly forgot) time this year. The numbers on the bill were outrageous. But I had no choice since permission for an absence of more than 3 days required a note from the doctor in order to be valid. I also cursed silently to think about the current sanction for these absences: 5% of your monthly salary. Per day.

So folks, in Indonesia, the government punishes you for being sick with the same tariff whether you have a doctor’s note or not. They cut your salary when you might’ve been sick from working for their majesties butts and you have to pay for the doctor’s bills and the expensive unsubsidized meds in order to get well for the sake of working for them. Well okay, it is reasonable to not get paid for the days you don’t work for, but please cut us some slack.

Meanwhile, the rest of my beloved colleagues are talking about remuneration and how it is so grand and how they love the respected SMI for it (a strange reason to love her). And while some of us are trying to cope and be satisfied with the current conditions, they are busy posting in the social network, whining and rambling about how it’s so unfair that GAPOK hasn’t been given to them. That their housing costs 50-65% 0f the monthly compensation and the rest isn’t enough to cope with. And that they are sick of the false rumors of its arrival and so they’re sick of waiting… bla, bla, bla… We haven’t even been allegedly acknowledged as PNS but we’re already asking for a sooner payment for of our work. Go figure.

Hm…

Suddenly I felt ashamed of my own whining. Hey, I’ve been strong enough to cope. Why give up now?

I remembered all the good things. All the friends I made, STANEC, AKSARA… all the things that I couldn’t have had without this bumpy climb.

***

On June, 25^th a text message appeared in my inbox from my junior:

“Mb..bsok final debate mnicomp nya.. we do really hope u’ll come. pagi kok..thanks a lot.

And that message made me spirited again. I remembered the valuable times adjudicating these spirited debaters, about what an honor it was to be asked for help by them. I remembered the “tumpeng” they made for my birthday last week. I remembered how they always listened attentively and gave me the overwhelming respect I’m not even sure I deserve.

Then there were the other marvelous hang-outs I had with the EXCOMIN, the late nights at McD’s, the heart-to-heart talks… priceless.

I also remembered all the competitions, the ceremonies, and the events I experienced during my time at STAN, between the school tasks and hard work I was obliged to complete to get me here now and I thought… things aren’t so bad at all.

Then I had a revelation of the things I used to see, not so long ago. About some things I had forgotten.

“There is more to life than meets the eye. We won’t always get what we want, but there are treats along the way. Enjoy the process. You might find that your dreams have already come true”.

There’s a saying that sometimes you can see an ant across the road, but you can’t see an elephant right in front of you (that’s not the exact transliteration but it’s something like that). The quoted words above have been written on a piece of colored paper, stuck on the wall by my bedside. I stuck them there months ago. Go figure.

***

I always wanted to be a teacher. In essence, I just wanted to help others learn. I realize I have done that and am still doing that at least in 30% of my time by giving lessons periodically and coaching for STANEC.

I opted to be a judge. In essence, I just wanted to be the one with the authority to judge. I realize I have done that and am still doing that in at least 15% of my time, every week, by adjudicating for STANEC. It’s totally rewarding (not entirely in the materialistic sense, of course).

I dreamed of inspiring people. I hope I have done that. And I still wish to do that, through the power of words that I am so fond of, in both speech and writing.

I just forgot how to be thankful. Lack of gratitude blinds you. Now that I remember, I can see that.

Everything is great again.

Everything is going to be okay.

***

“For you don’t have to be a musician to play music. You don’t have to be a teacher to help others to learn. Cherish the time you have, use it well, and achieve as much as you can.”

26^th June 2010

4:06 am

My room.

 

Quote of The Day (2)

“My religion is not a clothing that I can wear until I'm bored, mix and match it with other clothes, and throw it away when I'm done with it. It doesn't suddenly change style to adapt to the era, nor does it wear away and die. I can't wear it to just any party. So I'll proudly wear it for the "party" You created it for.”

prosa: balada proletariat

sejenak kau pandangi langit yang membentang luas diatasmu. langit itu tak lagi biru. seketika kau ingin merasakan kedamaian itu sebentar saja. namun ada yang keliru dengan berita yang sampai padamu. entah keliru atau mereka sekedar merayumu, membuatmu percaya bahwa semuanya baik-baik saja.

kau lihat awan yang berwarna kelabu. bukan putih, seperti yang kau idam-idamkan, seperti yang mereka katakan. karena itu memang hanya bualan mereka tentang keadaan yang ada. atau setidaknya mereka memutarbalikkan fakta tentang apa yang seharusnya dan tidak seharusnya. agar kau merasa senang dan percaya bahwa semuanya baik-baik saja.

lalu hawa panas itu menyelimutimu. tidak seperti hangatnya pelukan dari keluarga yang berkumpul di antah berantah, sesuatu yang nyaris kau lupakan. sudah terlalu lama kau tak kembali. karena mereka menjamin bahwa apa yang dibutuhkan sudah ada buatmu dan keluargamu. maka dengan santainya kau pergi ke negeri orang, mencari sesuap nasi dan segenggam berlian untuk kau bawa pulang.

tapi kau pulang untuk menemukan bahwa tidak ada yang menyambutmu. langit tak lagi biru. nafasmu sesak dengan aroma-aroma yang tidak sedap. entah itu bau amis dari maksiat mereka yang mengaku wakil rakyat. atau bau keringat proletariat yang sudah sekian lama membanting tulang di pinggir jalan, atau kolong-kolong jembatan karena menara-menara tinggi itu tak mungkin diperuntukkan bagi mereka. belum lagi darah yang sudah tumpah. dan juga tangis yang sudah lama mengering.

kau tak mengerti lagi apa yang mereka sebut sebagai “keadilan sosial” atau “permusyawaratan perwakilan”. yang jelas bukan lagi seperti yang mereka ajarkan kepadamu saat kau masih menjadi anak ingusan yang sering tertidur di bangku paling belakang. saat pak guru menjelaskan tentang pancasila, kedaulatan negara, dan kesejahteraan rakyat. bahkan sekarang kau temukan bahwa pancasila sudah berubah. tak lagi diilhami bhinekka tunggal ika. mungkin tak lagi “panca”. dan tak lagi mengenal tuhan.

kau sadari bahwa sesuap nasi dan segenggam berlian yang kau bawa pulang tak cukup untuk impian sederhanamu untuk hidup bersama sanak saudara. karena makan 3 kali sehari pun menjadi barang mewah. kau harus menurunkan standar kemewahan yang semula berupa motor, mobil, dan rumah karena inflasi-deflasi yang tak karuan. padahal mereka bilang ekonomi sudah stabil. standar hidup sudah naik. dan kau tak perlu khawatir. karena langit itu akan semakin biru.

***

lama kau pandangi langit itu. menahan sesak di dadamu dan panas yang membakar kulitmu. disana langit itu berujung, menyentuh bumi yang sudah tak lagi hijau. namun sampai kini kau masih menaruh harapan pada janji-janji mereka. bahwa suatu saat nanti, langit akan kembali biru. awan akan kembali putih. dan kau dapat menghirup udara sejuk kedamaian.

 

kau akan menunggu detik-detik kemenangan itu. walau kemenangan itu hanya sesaat.

Writer’s Block

 

I have introduced myself as a person who loves writing. I love literature. I love the whole cacophony of words in the universal art of communication.

 

But lately (as in months), I haven’t been able to produce an original piece of writing that I can actually acknowledge as satisfactory. I am out of ideas, also initiative, to create a piece that I can be proud of. It’s really very annoying.

 

So can I call it “writers block”? The reason why this question arises is that I find it too early for myself to be considered a writer. I mean, have I made any novels? Have I had my writings published in any newspapers or magazines? Have I ever won any writing competitions? It’s quite an embarrassment.

 

It’s not like I haven’t made any plans. I have a concept for a novel. I have an outline for a documentary. I have a plot for a short story. And poems just keep writing themselves in my mind. What is lacking is the consistency and perseverance to execute those plans.

 

I am sure that what I’m experiencing isn’t an uncommon "syndrome”. I just don’t know what to call it. So here I am, just for the sake of writing, writing something because I cringe at the thought of the neglect that my poor blog has suffered.

 

I hope I cross over this limbo very soon, because the it has made my mind scrawny. Ignorance and neglect is consuming, whereas words are food.

 

I have been through a lull and it’s time to be refreshed and rejuvenated!

 

Keep spirited!

An Ode to Age

Age can be a pathetic thing. You realize you’re no longer as good-looking as you used to be. You find it hard to recall what happened five minutes ago – let alone what happened in your childhood. Where did you go all this time? Finally you’ll admit the cruel fact: you’re old.

In your gray existence, you’ll wonder what happened to your youth. Did you really know your family? And what the heck happened to school? You only remember the endless glasses of cheap beer you had with your happy-time mates. Followed by a one-night-stand with a hottie you met at a club. Yeah… it was a taste of heaven back then.

Until she came along, swearing that the little rascal she carried in her arms was your fault. Suddenly, you’re married.

 Losing your freedom was too much for you. Your so-called wife and son (or was it your daughter?) don’t satisfy you at all. Then you run away from the woman and child you never acknowledged as truly yours.

Since then you’ve lived on your own. Like everyone else, you have dreams and fantasies. But they are only for you. So there you were, living on your own, in quite a selfish way.

Slowly, the absence of company begins to consume you. Wealth, position… they have all deserted you. You regard the world with a pathetic hatred as you face it in your sad little solitude.

***  

Sometimes life is like a long road. The further you go, the harder it is to see what’s behind. But some of the scenery you pass leaves an imprint on your memory to last you a lifetime.

 The further you go, the harder it is to go on. Youth has abandoned you, leaving you to procrastinate with the plague of age. And so, you may welcome the prospect of stopping to rest in the everlasting sleep, to return to the place where we all belong.

Jalan Seni, Aksara 

2009

Tennessee Against Sharia

Tennessee state senator Bill Ketron (R-Murfreesboro) and state representative Judd Matheny (R-Tullahoma) have introduced a bill known as SB1028 (Senate bill 1028). The bill would make it illegal for anyone in Tennessee to practice Sharia. The bill would make practicing Sharia a felony, punishable by 15 years in jail. Sharia is a strict code of conduct that is followed by fundamentalist Moslems, it is sometimes called Sharia law. Sharia law requires Moslems to observe religious traditions, for example, they must pray five times a day, they must wash their feet before prayer, they must face the city of Mecca while they pray, and so on. The bill would give the government of Tennessee the authority to investigate anyone suspected of practicing Sharia. If the bill becomes law, it's not clear how the law would be enforced. Could you be put in jail for fifteen years if you pray five times in one day? Could you be put in jail for fifteen years if you wash your feet before you pray?

It was only a few months ago that a preacher in Florida named Terry Jones threatened to burn the Koran on September 11,2010. September 11 was the anniversary of a terrorist attack perpetrated by Moslems, the Koran is the holy book of the Moslems, so this obviously would have been intended to antagonize Moslems. President Obama urged Terry Jones not to burn the Koran. Obama was interviewed on television, and during the interview, he said that if Terry Jones burned the Koran, it would provoke Moslems all over the world, and Obama said that American troops in Afghanistan may be threatened. Obama warned of 'serious violence' against American troops in Afghanistan if Terry Jones burned the Koran. On September 9,2010, Terry Jones said he changed his mind, and said he would not burn the Koran.

So,where is Obama now? Shouldn't Obama go to Tennessee and give a speech to discourage them from passing such an inflammatory law? Certainly, if this law is passed in Tennessee, it's passage will provoke Moslems all over the world. By ignoring the issue, Obama is showing that he doesn't care about America's image. Certainly, making Sharia illegal could be as inflammatory as Terry Jones' threat to burn the Koran. If Tennessee makes Sharia illegal, shouldn't we expect Moslems to retaliate by killing American troops in Afganistan? Where does Obama stand on that?

(Anthony Ratkov,March 2,2011.)

My comment:

So much for the declaration of independence. I don't really get how some people fight for their right of "FREEDOM" while they oppose others in exercising that right too. Such a double standard.

For example:

• The sharia law obliges us moslems to wear hijab. Its only a piece of cloth covering our head and our bodies so that only our face and our hands are visible. So why issue a sermon to limit us of this right? We don't force you to stop wearing the latest trend of miniskirts or bikini's. Why can't you regard it as any other fashion? If the designers of the world told you that hijab was just the new fashion I am sure most of you would perceive it differently.
  
• Why stop us from praying to our God in the way that was obliged for us? How would you feel if you were hunted down every time you were caught decorating a Christmas tree, giving prayers at thanksgiving, or singing carols in church? Simply the act from stopping anyone from praying to God is an abomination. That is a private sector no one should tamper with.

 

I know that the sentiment against us Moslems is still high in this world. But please try to reevaluate your mindset. Doesn't the universal law punish a subject based on the act of the individual? I believe most of us Moslems don't agree with the deeds of the terrorists who claim to do it all in the name of Islam. 

 

 

Quote of the Day (1)

"Critiques and insults are the least of our matters. Be thankful that Allah has hidden some of our secrets and worst faults, for we are more open to humiliation and hatred if others are to know more about us even more than than we ourselves do. Be thankful for the chance to be better without prejudice. Be thankful for the privilege of secrecy."

Blog Awards

Beberapa bulan yang lalu saya menerima blog award dari Icha (thanks icha!).

Aturannya, sekarang penerima award ini harus memberikan award kepada 10 blogger lain, maka Selamat buat teman-teman yang saya sebut di bawah ini karena kalian saya beri "Blog Award"!

1. simplicity at it's best
2. bonitakikypramanasari
3. Aksara
4. kacangaksara
5. raniisramadhani
6. bluespy89
7. kisahganjil
8. kasurbekas
9. walkingword
10. expressthisout

Semoga terus bersemangat untuk berkarya dan menyentuh pembaca, menginspirasi para bloggers di luar sana...

Aturan selanjutnya, sepuluh penerima award tersebut harus meletakkan link-link berikut di postingan masing-masing. Di postingan kalian nanti, link nomor satu akan dihapus, link berikutnya akan naik ke urutan selanjutnya, dan letakkan link blog kalian di urutan ke sepuluh.

1. okutimurnews
2. webakoey
3. fahmiahmadfarizan
4. whatuget
5. isenk-isenkgagberhadiah
6. saidialhady
7. buku-sidu
8. fulcrums
9. bloomingedelweiss
10. Naya's Blog

Keep writing!! ^-^

Congratulations to Me!

Today I checked out Icha's blog and was surprised to know that she awarded my blog with first place on her honors list.. yay!! thanks dear!

It is truly great to know that others read your writing then appreciate and acknowledge it to such an extent. Sharing the words itself is a pleasure... I hope to inspire others, and this is a step toward that goal.

So according to the instructions on her blog blooming edelwiess, im supposed to post these links:

1. Oku Timur News
2. Akoey's Blog
3. Coretan-Coretan di Blog
4. Ladida's Blog
5. Ocha's Blog
6. Saidi's Blog
7. Farah Rizkiah
8. Firman Fulcrum
9. Icha's Blog
10. Me;)

As for the awards I'm going to give to my fellow bloggers (i guess this is the catch... hehehe) I haven't decided. Mainly because I haven't followed many blogs yet so I gotta find more^^

I'll announce it in another post.

Anyway, I really appreciate the works of bloggers out there. I admire their consistency and creativity.

Keep posting guys!!

Kukuh Raharjo: An Obituary

Kukuh Raharjo. Born on ............. . Died on .................... he was .... years old.

Kukuh Raharjo was a senior in STAN English Club. He was the Minister of HRD for the year 2008/2009. The members said he was a visionary person, a person who brought new ideas, new programs that were a big contribution towards the club. He was a great leader, caring towards his fellow members.

Kukuh Raharjo was also a member of BEM, IMAN, and who knows what else. He was active. He saw his college life not as the routine of classes, assignments, and exams. He liked doing many things at once, as long as they were worthwhile.

Kukuh Raharjo was a friend – to many people. Some called their relationship with him as a brotherly friendship. He gave great advice and was a great person to confide to. Others would call it “colleagues - type” because he was a friend who you could have a civilized discussion with a high standard of intellect. He was also considered a teacher – friend; someone who could inspire and urge you to explore various types of knowledge.

...

Sigh. That’s rather dull.

...

My friends, it is quite frustrating to write about someone, who has touched many people’s lives individually, in a holistic and objective manner. I have collected testimonials, both verbal and written, but I still don’t have a clue about how to write about him.

Mind you, it’s “how” to write, not what to write.

As I have said, I have lots of material. There’s a lot to say about Kukuh from myself and from his friends. But how are you supposed to write about someone’s death, a kind of obituary, when it seems... he’s not gone at all?

I know very well that if Kukuh were here beside me, he’d laugh at me, shocked at how I couldn’t write. I remember the time when he asked me to help manage The Writing Club, a new program he formulated in STANEC’s HRD. He liked writing structured articles and wanted to teach that to the students in the program. I preferred “free-style”. After some discussion, he decided to include both in the program. Yeah, even though it was his idea and he had already constructed a curriculum, he was open to ideas. Even from an amateur junior such as myself. After that, I couldn’t believe that he asked ME to give suggestions on his writing.

That wasn’t the only time Kukuh gave in to his juniors. He always knew, or rather realized, when he had to put aside his pride and show humility. I guess it was his way of making us feel welcome. He always believed that fresh new ideas existed and those ideas were everyone’s privilege, for anyone to voice out.

I also cringe to imagine what Kukuh would say if he knew I put off writing for too long just because I didn’t have any idea of how to write it. He would probably get frustrated because I procrastinated – something he despises. He really valued time. He was almost always the first one present in the meetings I happened to attend. Not because he was unreasonably early, but because everyone else tended to be late. He usually made the most of time at those meetings. He didn’t like babbling too long about technicalities, for example. He liked to thoroughly address the main issues and made sure everyone understood. Other than that, he didn’t like rushing through time blindly without plans. He could plan to the greatest details. He was organized and consistent. I guess those are some of the traits that made him a great leader.

Oops, do the points above make him sound too serious? I knew I’d have trouble describing him in words. Hmm...

Kukuh loved to laugh. I remember that in his weird-happy-mood times he could laugh about anything slightly comic; things I, or the others, didn’t find funny. His giggle would erupt in a hearty laugh, and the serious business-like demeanor he usually wore at meetings would vanish. Sometimes he would look like a young boy, his eyes full of pure merriment.

Kukuh also loved to eat. He’d sometimes meet us in the middle of the road, say hi, and asked if we had eaten. If I hadn’t, he’d ask if I wanted to eat together with him. He usually made it his treat because I was his junior. He’d talk about food in such a hearty manner. He also confided about his passion for cooking. I remember a funny incident when he recommended me to read a great book. To my utter bewilderment, it turned out to be a recipe book with detailed and full-color pictures of the dishes. Actually, he turned out to be a pretty good cook. He once made a special treat for some of the Eduplus STANEC members at a meeting. He made chocolate pudding, which was quite delicious.

He used to tease me and some of the other girls about how we couldn’t cook. He told us we had to try and learn. It was a valuable skill and quite useful. I guess it was his idea of a good wife. We’d always argue that we had time ahead to learn. If not, there was always catering these days, so we shouldn’t have to bother too much. He’d always respond with a laugh.

I know that Kukuh has taught me lot of things. I don’t have the brilliance to conclude all of them.

I do know that he was the one who showed me that there is so much that we, as students, can do for other people. He made a program for unprivileged children, which continues to this day.

He taught me and my friends how to speak up. The STANEC Conversation Club was his idea. I know that we were blessed with many lasting friendships through that club.

He taught me that fun could be derived from any activity. He used to ask me and some of our friends for a jog early in the morning. I never knew that exercise could be enjoyable.

He taught me how to care for others in a way that didn’t always have to be so obvious. Sometimes he got angry at us for mistakes I thought were too trivial. But then I realized that it was his way of protecting us. In the end, he decided to tackle the burden for us by himself.

He taught me about being passionate about anything you believed in or enjoyed doing, whether or not others would laugh at you. What’s important is that you believe in yourself.

He showed me how life was so valuable by valuing his own and manifesting his gratitude for life by helping others.

For me, Kukuh was a great person. I believe many others would agree.

That’s why I didn’t write about the events of his death and what happened afterwards. I have no intention of making this writing a depressing obituary. I think some of us have shed enough tears.

So even though I didn’t know how to express the collection of thoughts about Kukuh, I knew this short essay would not be about how he died. This is about how he lived.

* * *

I still have trouble comprehending the fact that he really is gone. To me, he was a person who was really “alive”.

A wise senior told me that the least we could do for him is help his continue his work and fulfill his dream in helping others. That way he’ll always live.

His spirit will never die.

May Allah always bless you, my dear friend.