What could go worse than witnessing MU’s defeat against Chelsea?! I am hopeless about their chance to win the title race, both in Premier League and Champions – their last three matches were below standard. The most consistent team will win. Thus Grandpa Ferguson said. You and the ridiculous formations you made have spoken the truth… [OMG, I should stop this favoritism soon!]
your finger touches the button of the red camera in my hands that shout joyfully from the caress of your skin. your dry tips on my calm pretense. the shutter winks at the inessentials, like the fact that you are not mine alone. the camera, and what it misses capturing, lets them live uncropped so that hope travels afar. that and a promise that I will sip your strong coffee when everything else blurs.
I used Pinter’s 1996 piece, Ashes to Ashes, as the third discussion material in my drama class. I couldn’t hide my excitement to my students, of how close this play is to my heart. It’s my darling, my precious baby: it’s the experience of revelation that I got from reading and directing it. Also, it’s the longing of a lover wanting to swim into immensity, at whatever cost. I know this could scare my students away (Especially after I bombarded them with The Zoo Story and The Bald Soprano! Don’t I love trouble?) Anyways, if anything, I don’t want to be remembered as a good teacher. 😉
I’ve got nothing to lose for being passionate about my likings. This is my last semester in the department I love so much. I have experienced leaving, and being left by, things I loved. Besides, I don’t see it as anything shameful or lamentable. Being an academician is not worth more than being, say, a clerk who can still spare time to read and write for pleasure, and go to beauty salon once a month. Maybe I have lost faith in certain big things, but I’m a believer in miniscule miracles.
“Why do you like Ashes to Ashes?” someone asked. I guess it’s the essence of pure desperation, being down to point zero, which leads to forgiveness and comprehension (I suddenly remembered Breaking and Entering. I’m sad that Minghella’s gone.)
[Pics by Ivan Pisarev]
Sewaktu MJ (Michael Johns, bukan Jackson) tersingkir dari lomba nyanyi American Idol minggu lalu, saya, dan saya yakin banyak wanita yang lain, nggak rela membayangkan dia kembali ke pelukan istrinya. Sungguh sial ratusan juta perempuan lain. Tapi Jeng Wid mungkin saja benar, “Mbakyu, Michael married her for the green card!” Tentu saja kami cuma becanda, walaupun mungkin saja MJ yang asli Aussie itu mendapat banyak kemudahan berkat sang nyonya.
Tapi, lagi-lagi, tentu saja bukan itu masalah yang ingin saya stabilo (maksude garisbawahi, highlight, dst.) Saya dan beberapa teman sesama jomblo cantik dan seksi (ya, silahkan muntah) punya pemikiran soal mencari pasangan. Kami sering chatting dan segala macam smiley kami pakai untuk mewakili sukacita kami dalam membahas topik satu itu. Artinya, kami mungkin serius, tapi kami jelas setengah becanda. Mendapatkan pasangan itu semudah atau sesulit mengubah suatu budaya. Dan dalam kasus saya: sulit!
Saya ini berdaya khayal tinggi sejak kecil. Besar bersama tokoh-tokoh H.C. Andersen hingga Old Shatterhand, komik Nina hingga Pendekar Rajawali Sakti, saya membentuk konsep saya tentang keindahan. Belakangan saya sadari, itu nggak menguntungkan saya sama sekali. Keindahan ternyata tukang khianat. Saya selalu jatuh cinta pada orang-orang yang “indah” dan dalam kasus saya, “indah” ekuivalen dengan “salah.” Seandainya saya bisa selugas Jeng Wid, yang suka ngece saya “Kamu nih selalu seneng sama yang melarat-look,” mungkin nasib saya lebih bagus dari sekarang (yang sebetulnya nggak terlalu jelek juga).
“Jadi, kamu masih juga nyari orang yang seksi?” tanya seorang sahabat saya hari ini. Dan saya tahu, yang seksi itu potensial untuk mengecewakan di kemudian hari. Sejarah saya sudah bicara. Dan dompet adalah lawan kata seksi – maksudnya, saya harus mengubah cara pandang saya mengenai mencari pasangan. Kepala saya cenderung untuk setuju dengan si Dompet, tapi hati saya, lagi-lagi, masih mencengkeram pagar pembatas itu. Seandainya, bisa beruntung mendapat yang sexy nan dompet-y kaya Owen Hargreaves gitu… Huh, mana bisa begitu kan? Saya masih menjadi pengamat budaya dompet itu tadi. Mungkin sebentar lagi saya mau donlot foto-foto Donald Trump atau Aburizal Bakrie buat dipajang di desktop. Cape’ deee!!
United Rooney! They smashed AS Roma’s hope for a semifinal match. The other Ro remained on the bench last night, hopefully for a dashing match against Barcelona next!
Bye bye, Arsenal (what a tragic end!) As for Liverpool, your next homework is Chelsea. Please, win the game! Torres and Gerrard are more pleasant to see than Lampard and Ballack. And it’s always fun to watch Mascherano getting himself into trouble. 😀
Tim bola basket pria Universitas Kansas – almamater saya – menjuarai turnamen NCAA (National Collegiate Athletic Association), setelah mengalahkan Memphis dengan skor 75-68! Tahun lalu, ketika saya masih di AS, KU dikalahkan UCLA. Dan dari dulu saya malu kalau disuruh menyerukan yel-yel “Rock Chalk Jayhawk!” (juga memakai lambang maskot universitas kami yang berujud burung mirip ayam itu). Sekarang rasanya kepingin terbang kembali ke kota Lawrence dan ikut konvoi di Massachusetts Street, merayakan kemenangan KU bareng yang lain-lain, seperti Widya, Susy, Daniel, Thamer, Gabe, Mas Takaaki…
Satu pitcher bir hitam buat Kansas!!! [Pics by Widya. Makasih ya, diajeng!]
The article about anomalous Indonesians on Kompas today coincidentally responded to a before-teaching discussion I had with Mita and Chosa two days ago. We hated to see a young family who had three or more kids on a moped, and we can see this a lot on our streets. In a city like Jogjakarta, cars come after mopeds and public buses as a means of transportation. Besides economic reason, our streets are generally narrow and the city itself is densely populated – putting mopeds or motorbikes in the hearts of Jogjakartans. 🙂
But that was not the matter. Maybe life is so damn difficult for most people here that they have set aside safety way too far. They take their whole family (daddy, mommy, and two or three kids) on a bike, without proper protection (five people on a bike, what kind of protection could that be???) What infuriates me and my friends is the fact that these destitute people are so intellectually deprived that in their position they felt rightful to have a child, and not just one, but two, three, … My stand is clear and simple. I can’t be less serious about it. Every child has the right to live in properness, and nothing less! I don’t mind calling people idiots with this regard. Grrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!!
This morning I picked my daughter from her Sunday school. We were on a motorbike, of course. We stopped at the traffic lights. I saw a man in front of me, who carried his other 3 family members on his bike, staring at me through his mirror. I thought he thought he knew me because he was making an effort to smile at me. His wife also turned her head to look at me for a few seconds. I looked at them the way I look at any stranger who happens to pass before me. Maybe we had met at a certain point in the past, but I had also decided. No friends of mine are idiots.
Beyond any flattering word, Mr. Alip came to PBI common room this morning just to shake my hands, saying thanks for watching the show last night. Wow. Ladies and gentlemen, attention like this is rare these days. That alone shut my ears off the negative commentary coming from my colleagues about the play. They were not there last night, so I don’t count their opinions.