The KPOP Phenomena

The music industry is a bit like a first-class food buffet at a charity event for a bunch of bored millionaires. You will find so many different dishes with unique flavors all crammed into your view so it is overwhelmingly satisfying but also sickening at the same time. Since it is a high-class event, you expect that the food would be top notch. However, you find that you can’t differentiate between the premium imported steak and the satisfactory local steak under all the fancy dressings and side-dishes. It’s either that or the philanthropists have suddenly lost their senses. Or is it really just different tastes?

Currently, the music industry is serving people quite a meal. It rapidly changes in short periods of time. Fifteen to ten years ago, the main course was sweet Pop music with Pop Princess Britney Spears dominating the centerpiece, accompanied by sugary boy bands such as the Backstreet Boys and Westlife. Around five years later, emo rock and punk music hit the charts; an ensemble of MCR, Avril Lavigne, and Evanesscence. Today, what is the face of the music worldwide? Justin Bieber surely has a strong influence, along with other tween stars hitting the stage. But there have been arguments in favor of another supposedly “different” type of music.

The dish that is fighting to be the centerpiece is KPOP. According to Wikipedia, KPOP is a musical genre consisting of dance, electro-pop, hip hop, and R&B music originating in South Korea. So it’s basically a genre which is made out of a lot of other genres. However, the question would be, why create another genre when it is already describable with the current vocabulary of genres? Why the exclusiveness?

Maybe because it is from Korea, people might say. But then, people from Indonesia, for example, would start calling their pop and Dangdut IndoPop. Or the country music artists in Nashville might even be pickier by labeling their music NashPop. What’s wrong with it? Nothing much – except that describing music would then be based on their origin, not based on the fundamental differences that created the elementary genres in the first place.

Next, why is KPOP so popular? The video clip of Gangnam Style from Psy has already gotten over 300 million views on youtube. In 2009, the Wonder Girls became the first K-pop artist to debut on the Billboard Hot 100 singles chart. Both Super Junior and Girls’ Generation have held their concerts here in Indonesia with a welcome that should make Justin Bieber’s managers run for their money.

According to a Rolling Stone author, "K-Pop is a mixture of trendy Western music and high-energy Japanese pop (J-Pop), which preys on listeners' heads with repeated hooks, sometimes in English. It embraces genre fusion with both singing and rap, and emphasizes performance and strong visuals." Meanwhile, the BBC describes the K-pop bands Super Junior and the Wonder Girls as "highly produced, sugary boy- and girl-bands with slick dance routines and catchy tunes." The fact is, many K-pop music videos have colorful visuals and a catchy beat. Dance is an integral part of K-pop. When combining multiple singers, the singers often switch their positions while singing and dancing by making prompt movements in synchrony. K-pop is also recognized for pretty-boys and girl groups that are young and considered attractive (Wikipedia).

With the above description for KPOP, we may assume that the fans would be teenagers and young adults. However, many adults also enjoy KPOP – for various reasons. A lot of grown men are such fans of the Girls’ Generation that they go to the extent of downloading their video clips, collecting all episodes of their reality shows, and going to their live concerts. The question here would be, do the reasons for doing so actually correlate with the music itself?

According to some opinions, the music itself is not the primary factor in the popularity of K-pop. A publication in New York Magazine calls K-pop "catchy but derivative" and states that Girls' Generation fans admit to liking the group for its members' looks and their personality, radiating what the magazine calls "humility" and friendliness to each and one of the fans. A fan stated to the magazine that when Girls' Generation performs on stage, you get the illusion of the girls sometimes looking right at you and interacting with you personally. New York Magazine also adds that Korean girl groups recruit members "for their looks, later augmented by plastic surgery" (Wikipedia).

Several sources claim that KPOP is a major export commodity that is endorsed by the Korean government to spread soft power all over the globe. We can see the effects of that soft power in Indonesia through the current trend of boy bands and girl bands in the local music industry. Cherry Belle has characteristic not unlike that of Girls’ Generation, even similar dance routines. Smash is currently the pioneer of boy bands, also displaying traits similar to Super Junior with a corresponding fan base. It is quite sad that what may be considered as the youth’s creativity is raising too many suspicions that it may be “just a phase”. That Indonesia is yet again another follower in the mainstream.

So what can we deduce from this KPOP phenomena? What are our impressions on the music industry as a whole? Is your taste based on the music itself or is it much affected by the “packaging” of the products?

Whatever your answer is, it will participate in determining the face of the music industry. Or, as my previous analogy suggests, which dish gets to sit on the centerpiece.

All in all, have a pleasant meal!

 

*this is an article I made for POINT’s bulletin at campus.

Back to School

After 3 months of holidays, I finally had to go back to school and my spirit was as lively as a codfish. The prospect of new things to learn and new people to meet should have been an adequate incentive but I guess my mind had been in its slumber for too long. It took a while to get up and stretch its limbs to face the various activities in store for it ahead. Thus, I had a case of the “back to school blues” mixed with homesickness and I couldn’t find the energy to be excited about school.

I was also plagued by the sight of my dusty room after being neglected for months. I had to do a major clean up before I could settle down and be comfortable. School was to begin on the next day. However, that activity isn’t suited for someone that had just taken a 12-hour bus trip from Bogor to Jogjakarta and arrived at 4.30 am all cold and groggy. Nevertheless, the cleaning had to be done (I have a severe case of self-diagnosed OCD).

But life goes on. Time makes things bearable and, shortly afterwards, exciting. I found so many things to like about going to school: brilliant new lecturers, nice new friends, English Club’s new projects, choir practices after class… the list goes on. I get a fresh start. My spirit is recharged.

I hope the spirit never fades. I have a hunch that many more exciting things will happen next.

Live life to the fullest! ^-^

Goodbye, Mbah Amin

It is another time in my life when I have to witness a loss in my family – the death of a loved one. Around 3am on the 20^th September, my grandfather, Mbah Amin, passed away. He had suffered a complication of illnesses due to old age. I think he is resting more peacefully now.

Unfortunately, I don’t know my grandfather as well as I would like to. I know that he was a respected member of the House of Representatives during his prime years. I concluded that he was a strict but loving father and husband based on my mother’s stories about him. But age was not so kind to him, as he lost a lot of his memory as he got older and older. He didn’t remember his own children sometimes, let alone his grandchildren. It was sometimes quite funny... in a sad and ironic kind of way.

I will miss him. He always had a kind face with a slightly goofy smile worn across it. He would often tell us stories of his life from uncertain memories. I don’t know if they were completely true, but it was always fun to listen. Rather inappropriately, my siblings and I would sometimes make fun of him and his unique memory. We were rather fond of him, though we only existed in the few precious seconds of his short term memory.

I wish I could write more about him, the man who raised my wonderful mother and gave his consent and high approval to my brilliant father. Now I have only one grandparent: my step grandmother, second wife to my grandfather – the person this post is dedicated to. I hope she will be granted enough years to see me be the successful woman I want to be and to cradle my children in her arms.

Cherish your family as much as you can. Sometimes, we never know how precious something is until it’s gone…

Rest in peace, Mbah Amin… May Allah accept all your good deeds and forgive all your mistakes. Amin.

Blessed Eid!

My family and I celebrated Eid on the 19th August this year. It was another year away from our beloved big family in Lombok. We miss the large gatherings, the home-made traditional food, and the joyful “noise” of our extended family. However, the Eid celebration that took place here in Malacca wasn’t so bad. In fact, I very much enjoyed the small but heart-warming gatherings with our fellow neighbors. We got invited to a couple of meals, each of them treating our taste buds to a variety of unique Malaysian-Indonesian food. Since most of our Indonesian friends here have been in Malaysia for a long time, their taste for food has undergone an interesting transformation. We had the “lemang” plus “gulai”. We tasted various versions of “sambal goreng”.  Then there were “dodol” and pudding and spring rolls and sugar buns… yum…

I love food. It may be my favorite part of gatherings (laughs).

Anyway, the true essence of Eid, for me, is gathering with those who are living close to us: our neighbors. They are the ones who have to cope with our presence everyday and mind our habits with inspiring patience. They are the ones who deserve our attention. So, remember to give them a warm and loving thank you.

*after Eid Prayer at UTEM (Universiti Teknikal Malaysia) Melaka

Maybe this is a bit subjective. I know not everyone will completely agree. Since I frequently have to move homes, I have to get used to rapidly interacting with so many different people. I have to deal with the absence of my big family and sometimes lose touch with them. I cannot meet my best friends often. So when Eid comes, the neighbors and nearby acquaintances come first. We haven’t had a chance to visit Lombok in years (to send the whole family back home will cost a fortune), so only a call or text message replaces our presence in our hometown. It’s a bit sad, but we try to make the most of the moment and pray that we can visit our big family the following year.

*after a hearty dinner at a friend’s house

I have a lot of hopes for the new year. A new job. A good career. A smart student. A healthier lifestyle. A dutiful daughter. A responsible sister. A better me. I believe they are all achievable. Anything is possible. Miracles happen (some of the goals above do need the help of a miracle or two, hehe…). ^-^

 

 

Have a great year ahead, everyone!

Drapetomania*

I never wanted to cause trouble. I never wanted to be the product of another argument that always ends in silence. It is not the peaceful silence you would cherish if you wanted to think or simply breathe. It’s the painful silence that follows after a devastating hurricane. All that is left is the dust and debris among the ruins of memories and hope.

“You should’ve paid attention to her. You are the mother. Where were you all this time?”

“I do listen. More than you do. You’re away at work for hours and when you come home you do absolutely nothing. Where were you all this time?”

“I make a living for this family. You remember that.”

“Yes, but you can’t leave the burden of being a father on me!”

“I do my part!”

“I spend hours cooking, and cleaning sh*t, and actually being a parent!”

“But you don’t actually listen...”

This is one of the many fights this month. Three days in a row now. My brothers and sisters are away from the scene, taking refuge in their rooms, as usual. Another silence for them. A chunk of guilt from me.

I feel the feelings and emotions raging inside my chest, mixing together into a hot liquid, reeking of anger, sadness, and guilt. It quickly boils and the hot air starts to condense in the corner of my eye. But I refuse to be taken over by even the mildest traces of hysteria. I march into the scene and glare at them coldly.

“I’m going out. I’ll be back when you’re finished.”

I walk out and shut the door behind me. Then I run.

The air is cold. It soothes the burns created by the negative feelings I had kept churning inside of me. I let the wind slap my face as I continue to sprint forwards into nowhere. I pass the square houses with their neat lawns. A dog barks at me ferociously through a locked gate. But everything is a blur. I am making no effort to see. Every sound becomes a distant drone as the words from the fights echo in my ears. I try to shove them away.

Sticks and stones can break your bones but words will never hurt you...

The quote from the early years of my childhood suddenly appears among the clutter inside my head. I used to believe in that. It was a shield from the bullies who teased me because of my skin color, because of my attitude... because I was different. I used to think I was special.

But today words are powerful. Some words are evil and can break you quite severely.

A porcelain plate smashes into many sharp pieces. Someone strikes. Curses fill the air. A little boy cries quietly in the corner.

Just run, I told myself. Just keep running. I run faster, hoping that the echoes and images would get left behind, like they always do.

I quicken my pace, letting the scenery become a dark streak of color. The air becomes colder, enunciating the sharp sting of the wind, resisting my attempt to gain velocity. But I conquer my senses and prevail. Distance kindly replaces the footprints behind me.

After what seems like more than an hour of running, I finally slow down to a walk. I am at a familiar street a couple of kilometers away from home. I find a bus stop nearby and sit down to catch my breath.

The street is deserted. It isn’t strange, considering the late hour. I lie down on the seat and gaze at the night sky. It is slightly clouded but I can still see hundreds of brilliant stars scattered across the dark blue background. I wish I knew more about the constellations. If I did, I could occupy the next few hours drawing in the sky.

Minutes pass by and I just stay there, lying on my back, looking into the heavens. I think about the things that make me happy. The homemade orange cake for my 9^th birthday. The green rollerblades my father bought for me. The red sailor dress my mother made for me. All of the happy memories came from my childhood. Unfortunately, none came after my early years of adolescence. That’s when I made that mistake. That’s when the fights started.

A small beep interrupts my chain of thoughts. I sit down and take my phone out of my pocket. There is a message from Dad.

We are sorry. Where are you? Let us find you and bring you home.

I press the reply button and type in a few words.

I am at the bus stop at 55 North Avenue.

Then, I press the send button and wait.

***

Half an hour later, I am in the backseat of our car. Everyone is silent, deep in their own thoughts. I gaze out of the window. It is foggy and I can’t see the outside clearly, so I lower the glass almost all the way. The cold air rushes into the car.

“Close the window, you’ll catch a cold.”

I scroll it up about halfway in response.

“Close it properly.”

“Just let her, she’s been outside for the past couple of hours anyway.”

“I am doing it for her good.”

“You always say that without really thinking about it.”

“What do you mean…?”

“For heaven’s sake, I’ll close the darn window!” I shouted. I scroll it up fully. The brief silence that follows afterwards is colder than the wind outside.

“You should watch your tongue, young lady.”

I don’t reply.

“Just leave her alone. You say worse things.”

“I wouldn’t say such things if I weren’t provoked.”

“Provoked? You have brought it upon yourself!”

“You weren’t a good enough parent! That was the problem!”

“Speak for yourself! You never listen. That’s why she did it…”

“Why do you always blame that on me? She made that mistake because you didn’t pay enough attention!”

“How can I when you’re always screaming at me!”

“Oh, grow up, you as****!”

“F*** you! You…”

I refuse to hear the rest of the words. I can’t believe they are doing this again. They said they were sorry. The thick plasma of feelings erupted inside of me, clouding my logic and senses. I could feel the burning sensation in my eyes. No, I must not be vulnerable. They can never see me weak. I have to escape.

“Shut up! Just shut up!” I yelled.

I pull the lock and open the door. Then, I jump out.

I fall hard onto the asphalt, and roll for a couple of times before coming to a halt, facing sideways in the direction of our car. I hear its tyres screech and doors open. I force myself to get up, to continue my escape from the arguments, never-ending disagreements, and violent fights. I hear them call out to me but I look away. I take my first step shakily. My vision is blurred from the coat of moisture covering my eyes. I shake my head angrily, hating myself for being weak, for succumbing to my feelings, for letting my body betray me.

“Get back in the car!”

“No!”

“Grow up!”

“You two grow up! In case you have forgotten, I’m around when you are talking about me. I still remember my mistake!”

The words finally spill out. The stench of my guilt overwhelms me as I let the memories of the past fill me to the core.

“I realize it, okay? I have tried to live with it, to go on. But you are constantly fighting and arguing. It’s insane!”

I take a few steps back to steady myself.

“It’s time you two lived with it. It’s time for you to go on.”

I turn around and run. Their voices become blurred, blending with the sound of the wind, and a siren in the distance. In front of me, the road is a dark abyss ready to swallow me up, providing me a means to disappear.

I hear a car honking in the distance. Seconds later, the screech of tyres. Somebody screams. I hear a loud thud before I realize that I am flying through the air, through a beam of white light. Suddenly, time slows down.

A pretty rainbow arches through the beam of light as tiny drops of rain fall down from the sky. It feels nice on my skin; strangely warm compared to the cold air. Warm. It brings back a memory…

“Tell me a story.”

A smaller version of me snuggles under the covers in a cozy-looking bed. A happy couple sits beside me, smiling.

“What story would you like?” Asks one of them.

“A fairy tale with princesses, and fairies, and beautiful castles.”

“And rainbows?”

“And lots of rainbows. And twinkling stars”

They laugh.

“That’s quite a request.”

“Pleaaaaase…”

“All right. Let’s begin. Once upon a time…”

I instantly become very sleepy, my vision beginning to blur and darken. The soothing voice fills my body with warmth.

This is how I like them. This is how they should always be.

 

With that, I close my eyes.

 

 

 

* Drapetomania, in this context, is an uncontrollable desire to run away. You can see the full definitions in this link http://www.encyclo.co.uk/define/Drapetomania

Close Encounters of an Unknown Kind

Goosebumps. I am not referring to the best-selling novel series by R.L. Stine for young readers. I am referring to the peculiar bumps that appear on your skin as a chill runs down your spine. They can be caused by many things: extreme awesomeness, a spiritual awakening, a touching story. But they are more frequently associated with things that are frightening and sinisterly mysterious. Things that hide in the dark and things that live in the dark corners of the imagination...

A while ago, my friend Seagate challenged me to write about a mystical experience. I confess that I have not had the privilege of experiencing anything vividly spiritual, so I will go for the secondary meaning: mysterious and supernatural experiences.  I have decided to narrow it down to some of the mysterious and relatively scary experiences that gave me Goosebumps. Throughout my life, I have had a fair share of frightening or unexplainable occurrences.

A memorable experience is one that, as strange as it sounds, I don’t remember. I only know that it happened. My family was the witness of this event. It occurred on a warm afternoon in our old house in our hometown. I was still in Junior High School. That day, I was sick with the fever and, as usual, trying to free myself from it by copious amounts of sleep. I slept many times a day for a few hours at a time and it usually made me feel better – if I was lucky. At other times, I would be talking in my sleep (also a statement proven by my family) due to a bad dream which was annoyingly repetitive.

Anyway, my family stated that they were sitting casually on the family couch, not doing anything in particular. I suddenly came out of the room I was sleeping in, my clothes disheveled, and in tears, claiming that the TV in the room was on fire. I also claimed that a talk black figure had appeared in the room. They immediately checked the room (those who weren’t afraid, of course) and saw that there was nothing there and the TV was not on fire. Then they tried to console me. Moments later, I fell asleep while my family was reciting verses from the Qur’an by my side.

When I woke up the first thing I told them to do was shut up, haha... When I’m really sick and I have a high fever, I usually have this crazy problem with my senses. It’s like I’m suddenly Spiderman and everything is so loud and bright. The pressure of a soft touch becomes a hard nudge. So, without really comprehending what they were saying, I told them to be quiet. When I was fully awake, I asked them what they were all doing and why I was in a different room. They gave me a brief recount of what had happened and I, rather senselessly, laughed in disbelief. I actually hoped that they would give me a recount of “the black figure”, but no one saw it. My dad confirmed that it must’ve been a hallucination because of my fever and I believed him. Case closed.

Not too scary, right?

Let’s give you another story then.

This experience also occurred when I was in Junior high school. It was in my second year, if I am not mistaken. My friends and I were camping in one of the most beautiful beaches in Lombok. We had been there for a few days, enjoying the warm sunlight and cool sea in the daytime, and sleeping snugly in our tents during the night. One night, we were having a casual talk outside of our tents, enjoying cups of coffee and tea beside a small fire that had been burning pleasantly for a couple of hours. I think it was a few minutes before midnight. Suddenly, some of my friends started screaming and shouting in fright, scrambling to their feet, away from the direction they were just looking at. I looked in that direction and saw the huge tree on the far side of the beach. I didn’t see anything strange, but my friends’ frightened expressions and shouts of “Pocong” were enough to give me Goosebumps. They reported that it appeared under the tree (or was it on one of its huge branches?) and it was moving in our direction. A few seconds later, it suddenly disappeared.

Indonesian people should be very familiar with the term Pocong. I guess they believe it to be a type of ghost dressed in the “kain kaffan” (the white cloth used to wrap the body of the dead before being buried in the ground) so that only the face is visible. In the corresponding horror movies, it is usually a very scary face. It moves by jumping up and down, which is rather comical when you really think about it. Nevertheless, thank Allah I have never had a direct encounter with this frightening character.

Anyway, some of my friends and I checked the grounds and we didn’t see any sign of it. We looked intently at the tree and we still didn’t see anything that might even look like a Pocong. We tried to console our friends who did see it but had little success. That night, we all slept together outside beside the fire.

Haha... all this ghostly talk is giving me the chills right now.

There are some other experiences I can’t really explain. Most of them happened when I was alone and, thankfully, they aren’t too scary. Actually some of them are rather beneficial. There were a few times when I fell asleep too early before doing the Isya prayer. I would find myself waking up in the middle of the night or a few hours before dawn because of a sound. I can’t explain what it is really like. The closest description would be a sigh or a whisper, like someone saying “shhh” to me. I’d immediately wake up, not necessarily afraid, but aware that I had heard something. I would always assume that it was the pipes or the wind. Then I would look at the time. Frequently, I would wake at really odd hours like exactly 3am or one minute before midnight. My first thought would be, cool time. My second thought would be about how weird it was. Then, after dismissing my active imagination, I would conclude that it was either coincidence or I had a really cool sleeping mechanism. After that, I would realize that I hadn’t prayed and a sense of gratefulness would arrive. Maybe God sent an angel to wake me up. Maybe I got a special angel just to wake me up, like a guardian angel. That would be pretty cool. Maybe the sound I had heard was the sound of its wings... etc. My mind can wander. Sorry.

There are times when I enter a new place and get the chills. Have you ever experienced that? It’s like the area has an odd and eerie vibe to it. I suddenly feel like someone, or something, is watching me. Then my imagination goes wild and creates a few scenarios about things that pop up in the dark and things that can go through walls and other solid objects. Then I’d become as twitchy as a cat and scare myself silly. In the end, after nothing strange happens (thankfully), I would conclude that I have watched too many horror movies and my mind would certainly drive me insane if I don’t hammer some sense into it.

At times I can be so logical that feelings have a hard time coming through to keep me humane. Other times, my imagination will conquer all. Meanwhile, I hate the feeling of being scared. It is consuming and prevents me from being productive and effective. I wish the logic would excel in this field.

Several sources have made me believe that ghosts aren’t real. All those frightening creatures are just forms that Jinn and Satan created to disturb humans and destroy their faith. This fact is both food for logic and a consolation for me. I hope this belief doesn’t waver.

I hope I never have any more frightening experiences, as intriguing as they are. My imagination is enough to keep me occupied.

No more horror movies for me, then.

Abduct Me, Please!

Recently, traveling by plane has been too frequent to suit my liking. Due to some important issues that needed to be tended to, I have had to fly to Jakarta and back more than once in a month, which is rather tiring for someone with my circumstances. However, because of it I have finally settled a lot of issues, which is such a blessing that does not deserve my whining and complaining. I guess it is one of the extra blessings that come with this holy month of Ramadan. Have you realized one of the extra blessings you’ve gotten this month?

The purpose of this post is to tell you about the plane ride I just had yesterday on my way back to Malaysia. It was uneventful, very little turbulence (yes, I happen to like the turbulence). The sky was clear with little clouds. It was a perfect day for flying.

Usually I try to sleep through such rides to cancel out my boredom. I often succeed in achieving a nap for an hour or so before I wake up and get ready for the landing. Yesterday, however, I didn’t get much sleep and the plane ride wasn’t exciting at all. Automatically, my mind started to wander away to faraway places.

I was fortunate enough to get a seat right next to the window. I started to imagine what it would feel like to float through those clouds. I saw two different layers of clouds in the sky: the cumulus layer and the cirrus layer. I thought back to the moment in 4th grade when my teacher taught us about the different clouds and why they were that way. Sadly, my brain is too muddled-up to recall those bits of information. I am definitely not smarter than a fifth grader.

I started to think about what could hide in those clouds. I looked long and hard at each cloud until I finally spotted another airplane flying in the other direction. White smoke was shooting out from behind it, creating a long white line in its trail. I think it was another Lion Air airplane because it had a splash of red near its tail. Or maybe it was an Air Asia airplane. I was rather disappointed that it wasn’t a UFO. That would have been so cool.

I remembered all the stories about UFO sightings by passengers of an airplane. I wonder what they saw. How did the UFO look like when people saw it from high up in the air? How did they move? How did they disappear?

My mind shifted to the tales of alien abductions that took place on an airplane. Passengers were reported to have gone missing for 1-2 hours. Then they suddenly reappeared, back in their own seats. Some of them reported that they were abducted by aliens. Others couldn’t remember where they had been. I started wishing that an alien UFO would appear and abduct me. That would be so exciting. But of course, I’d have to beg them to let me keep my memory so I could keep the knowledge of what they looked like, what the ship was like, and the technology they used. Maybe they’d even answer my questions about all the things I’m dying to know about the universe.

How big is the universe, really?

What is on the edge of the universe?

What is it like to travel inside a wormhole?

What other dimensions are there?

Are there other earths just like ours? Are there other planets with life on it?

What would it really take to warp time and move through space with ease?

So many questions. I can imagine that many more will come after answers are told.

Maybe they would let me carry the answers to a more sustainable life on earth: self-sustaining energy sources, greener advanced technology, the cure to cancer and many other diseases…

But maybe some answers are meant to be unknown until we find it out by ourselves. Who knows how long that would take, though? I might be gone already.

I really hope they abduct me before I die.

Almost an hour later, the head stewardess announced that we would be landing shortly and we have to fasten our seat belts. The typical sassy and sugar-coated female voice knocked me back to earth, away from my daydreams. I could hear the teasing voice in my head: Earth to Naya, Earth to Naya... Time to go home.

 

I guess earth still needs me. ;p

Quote of the Day (4)

Introspection:

“Beware of your tongue. You wont find any bone for breaking people to pieces, but once it lashes without care, it's venom will kill both you and your opponent.”

“When you compare yourself to others constantly, sooner or later you'll find that you're despicably shallow and ungrateful.”

“Beauty perishes without kindness, compassion, and love, which are eternal.”

 

 

My Flair for Fashion: The Fashionista in Me

A couple of days ago, I noticed my sister focusing on my laptop screen for long hours, occasionally typing and frequently clicking here and there on a colorful site. The site, www.polyvore.com, was attractive, full of collages that were mainly about fashion. I had never encountered such a site and immediately asked her what she was doing. This was our conversation:

Me: What are you doing?

My sister: making a set?

Me: A what?

My sister: A set.

Me: What is a set?

My sister: You know, like in those magazines. Fashion sets.

Me: (blank)

I had a closer look at my ten-inch screen. She gave me a tour of other creations by members of the site. I started to understand (I’m slow sometimes). Then I got curious.

My curiosity made me create my own account and follow what the other members were doing. Make sets. My first set was, I guess, okay (if not boring). I wasn’t used to all the tools yet. After a day of frustration with my lack of competence and the slow internet connection, I finally got used to most of the tools. Plus, I knew what specific area I wanted to focus on. Below are some of my creations.

This one is called “dressing up for summer”.

This one is called “being feminine”.

This one is called “let’s go”.

You might notice that every set has the text “modesty is beautiful…”. That is the motto for my collection on the site, Modesty. It is a collection dedicated to Muslim women so I have tried to create outfits that are appropriate for wearing the hijab.

It isn’t easy to find appropriate items. The clothes in the database are mostly for non-hijabers, of course. However, it is possible to upload our own photos on the site and use them for our collages. I haven’t tried that though since I am still familiarizing myself with the tools and gadgets on the site.

I have five sets so far. If you would like to see them, your very welcome visit my profile at http://walissa-tanaya.polyvore.com/. I am planning to make many more sets. I really enjoy doing it. I confess that fashion has always fascinated me. When I was little, I used to make my own paper dolls and make various types of clothes for them. I even made hand-sewn clothes for my Barbie dolls. After a while, I grew out of it as I developed a strange dislike for dolls (that’s another story). Then, after I decided to wear the hijab, I thought that fashion for Muslim women had very little grounds. I decided not to pursue my interest in fashion. Lately, however, there are more possibilities thanks to many young designers of today’s world. I give many thanks to Miss Hana Tajima and Dian Pelangi for opening many doors.

I would like to develop a style that is modest, in accordance with the requirements for hijab in Islam, and beautiful, of course. Currently, I have been sketching a lot. I have made designs for daywear, parties, and also weddings. Soon I’ll be learning to sew with my mom’s new sewing machine (yay!). I’m really looking forward to it. It seems like a good addition to the various activities I can do during my long holidays, especially during the holy month of Ramadan.

Maybe, when I’m confident enough, I’ll post a design I’ve made. Maybe I’ll be able to sew my own outfit by the end of the holidays. Maybe I can make some for other people. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

I am such a dreamer. I can’t help it when life offers so many wonderful possibilities.

I better start executing. There’s nothing more terrifying than being stuck in Dream World.

Let’s chase those dreams!

Wedding Blues

Kau dan aku sedang duduk manis di atas sebuah bangku kayu di pinggir danau. Keranjang piknik berisi sandwich, muffin coklat, dan teh hangat ditengah bangku. Aku di ujung kiri, kau di ujung kanan. Sesekali kau melirik, mencuri pandang.

Hey…

 

Kau menyapa aku dengan gaya khasmu. Aku menoleh.

 

Apa?

Hm… Nikah yuk, hehe..

 

Aku membisu. Lalu tersipu malu. Lalu kesal karena tawa kecil yang kau sisipkan di akhir kalimat.

 

Yang bener ah…

 

Aku manyun. Kau tersenyum, menikmati warna merah jambu di pipiku.

 

Serius.

 

Kutunggu tawa kecil yang cenderung datang. Hening.

 

Yakin?

Ya iyalah…

Tapi bagaimana dengan ini. Bagaimana dengan itu.

Bisa diatur.

Tapi aku masih ingin begini. Kau juga harus mencapai itu.

Sambil jalan aja.

Emang bisa?

InsyaAllah…

Terus bagaimana dengan persiapan ini itu. Kan butuh ini, butuh itu. Butuh waktu…

Kan selama ini sudah berusaha menyiapkan. Persiapan intinya yang kita segerakan.

Bingung.

Kenapa harus bingung?

Kita siap nggak?

Pertanyaannya seharusnya: kamu siap nggak?

Nggak tau.

Hayo… udah kepala dua lho. Teman-temanmu yang lain sudah lho. Bukannya orang tuamu juga mendukung agar kau segera menikah?

Hm…

Hey,

Apa?

Kamu belum jawab.

Eh?

Nikah yuk…

…

Mau nggak?

 

Mau.

 

Kau tersenyum bahagia. Aku juga tersenyum. Sedikit tertahan.

Hatiku masih belum puas bertanya “tapi ini, tapi itu”.

Semoga terjawab setelah renungan nanti malam.

 

~ inspired by Amela ;) No more wedding blues…