Obsolote technology

The last time I made use floppy disk, or diskette was when I on my first year of university days.. *if I'm not miscounting*. Well, those are really good old days with I carrying two or three diskettes whenever I need to gather sources from the internet and read them at home in my huge computer.

To think back again, will my future kids have this kind of nostalgia when they grow up. If they do, how would it be? Would the conversation they have be like this: "Oh, do you remember how we used to use I Phone to text with our fingers?" 

Damn you later generations!! even now I could not afford one!! Huh!!

And so I told myself ..

 

Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours, to see!

Oh, Jens Lekman.. u have stolen my heart!!!

I've been always thinking that quirky, slightly nerd, and underdog type of guys are always hotter than jock or rock and roll stars. My list for those "strange-ly brilliant" dudes are like Jens Lekman, Ben Gibbard, James Mercer of The Shins, Kurt Cobain *he's a slightly quirky than a rock star to me*, Jonas Bjerre.. I have ever put the list down on my previous post.

In this post, I would like to especially talking about Jens Lekman. He's brilliant!! He has a knack to put simple words in his song to finally produce complicated effect to every listener. His lyrics are witty. It sounds charming and cheerful but most of the time the lyrics are dark and suicidal. 

For those who want to hear one of the songs, here is the example:

I really want this in my wedding!!!

Bubbline

This is the cutest Marceline and Bubblegum drawing ever!

Lady Lazarus adalah puisi yang menimbulkan kesan kuat setelah saya membacanya. Puisi ini ditulis oleh seorang wanita luar biasa kelahiran Boston, Massachusetts di era 30-an.

Kekuatan puisi ini terletak pada, tema, tentu saja! Dan imaji mistis pada setiap diksi yang digunakannya.

Lady Lazarus

  by Sylvia Plath

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it--

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?--

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot--
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart--
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash--
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there--

A cake of soap, 
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

23-29 October 1962
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15292#sthash.QkDGXI8M.dpuf

Lady Lazarus

  by Sylvia Plath

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it--

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?--

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot--
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart--
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash--
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there--

A cake of soap, 
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

23-29 October 1962
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15292#sthash.QkDGXI8M.dpuf

Lady Lazarus

by Sylvia Plath  

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it--

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?--

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot--
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart--
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash--
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there--

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.
23-29 October 1962

Secara keseluruhan, puisi ini tentang bunuh diri, si wanita menganggap kematian layaknya sebuah seni, seperti yang lain-lain. Dan dia melakukannya dengan sangat bagus, setiap kali dia mencoba bunuh diri, rasanya seperti nyata dan mudah baginya.

Dalam puisi, si wanita sudah mencoba bunuh diri dua kali, pertama saat 10 tahun dan itu tidak sengaja. Yang kedua dia memang niat bunuh diri.

Diksi dalam puisi ini membuat karya Plath terdengar sangat rumit, kelam dan brutal. Stanza-stanza awal saat dia menggambarkan keadaan sekarat sangat terus terang dan tanpa malu-malu membuat pembaca miris sekaligus hanyut dalam mistis imagery yang digunakannya.

Plath menggambarkan sekaratnya sebagai mukjizat dengan kulit seterang kap lampu Nazi, kakinya yang selunglai kertas, dan wajahnya sepasi linen yahudi.. damn, that's so beautiful!!

lensa feminis

Sebenarnya, puisi ini bisa dimaknai lebih luas lagi melalui lensa feminis.Puisi ini mendemonstrasikan perjuangan wanita atas kemandiriannya di tengah-tengah masyarakat patriarkal. Puisi ini pernyataan Plath atas terampasnya kreativitas dia oleh dunia patriarkal.

Tapi Plath berhasil mengalahkannya saat dia dilahirkan kembali seperti tertuang jelas dalam stanza;  Out of the ash/ I rise with my red hair/ And I eat men like air.

Lady Lazarus

  by Sylvia Plath

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it--

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?--

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot--
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart--
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash--
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there--

A cake of soap, 
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

23-29 October 1962
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15292#sthash.QkDGXI8M.dpuf

Massachusetts

Massachusetts

Massachusetts

Massachusetts

Massachusetts

Massachusetts

being a friend or friendly?!

Ini adalah quote terbaik yang saya dengar selama minggu-minggu panjang saya menonton drama serial di StarWorld;

“There is a difference between being a friend and being friendly."

Chloe dan teman perkemahan anak psikopat-nya, Teddy.

Quote itu dikatakan Chloe dari serial Don’t Trust the B—— in Apartment 23. Ironisnya, Chloe adalah karakter gadis pecandu alkohol yang doyan pesta dan memiliki moral seperti perompak. Dia tipe gadis jahat yang suka mem-bully gadis-gadis dan gay. Pokoknya, Chloe bukanlah tipe sahabat yang manis yang akan dipilih para gadis.

Tapi, apa yang diucapkannya pada June Colburn, si gadis rumahan dari Indiana yang merasa tidak beruntung karena menjadi teman sekamarnya, sangatlah benar.

Menjadi seorang teman berbeda dengan menjadi ramah. Menjadi teman berarti kita siap mengatakan hal-hal yang buruk pada orang-orang yang kita sayangi meski mereka tidak mau mendengarnya. Sedangkan menjadi ramah kita hanya mengatakan yang hal yang manis-manis agar orang menyukai kita.

Sayangnya, setelah dipikir lagi.. saya selama ini mirip June. Saya seringnya sugar-coating facts hanya agar orang-orang menyukai saya. Menjadi mean girl memang kadang-kadang perlu, agar kita bisa punya teman yang sebenarnya, tapi..

Kehidupan nyata memang berbeda dengan cerita sinetron. Di sinetron, meski Chloe adalah gadis jahat yang suka blak-blakan, tapi orang-orang masih sayang padanya. Tapi dalam realitas, gadis seperti dia akan habis, setidaknya habis diomongin orang.

I'm not lost, I just took the road less travelled!!

Hingga saat ini, saya masih takjub dengan cara-cara tak terduga Tuhan dalam melarikkan kisah hidup masing-masing hamba-Nya, termasuk saya. Setahun yang lalu, mana saya tahu kalau saya bakal kembali ke Jakarta setelah sekian lama larut dalam ketidakberuntungan *yang sebenarnya diciptakan oleh pemikiran saya sendiri* selama satu tahun lebih satu bulan ini.

Tapi, bagaimana pun, saya amatlah bersyukur atas skenario Tuhan. Tuhan memberi saya kesempatan menyekolahkan mental dan psikologi saya di tempat yang benar-benar asing sehingga saya harus bertopang pada kedua kaki saya sendiri.

Oscar Wilde pernah mengatakan "pengalaman adalah kata yang kita beri pada kesalahan2 kita", "Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes", meski saya hampir selalu setuju dengan ide-ide nyleneh sastrawan era Victorian ini, tapi kali ini, saya tidak.

Pengalaman bukan kesalahan. Pengalaman hanyalah jalan setapak yang jarang dilewati. Kita melewatinya, kita tahu apa yang ada di sana, dan kita bisa mengambil keputusan atas itu. 

Robert Frost tahu benar tentang ini dan dia membingkainya dalam sebuah gubahan puisi indah, The Road Not Taken, Jalan yang Tidak Dilewati

Dua jalan yang bercabang di hutan kuning,
Sayang, aku tidak bisa menempuh keduanya
Sebagai pengembara, aku berdiri lama
Memandang ke satu jalan sejauh aku bisa
Jalan yang berkelok di semak belukar;

Lalu melihat jalan yang lain, sama bagusnya,
Dan mungkin malah lebih baik
Karena terlihat segar dan menarik
Meski sudah terlewati manusia
Hampir sama seringnya

Dan pagi itu keduanya terbentang
Dengan hamparan daun yang belum terinjak jejak langkah
Oh, aku simpan saja yang pertama untuk hari lain!
Meski tahu semua jalan menuntun ke sebuah arah
Aku ragu akan pernah kembali.

Aku akan menuturkannya sambil mendesah
Di suatu tempat berabad-abad mendatang:
Dua jalan bercabang di hutan, dan aku,
Aku mengambil satu yang jarang dilalui orang
Dan itu telah membuat perbedaan besar

Hasbi-allahu la ilaha illa Huwa 'alaihi tawakkalt

Cukuplah Allah bagiku. Tidak ada Tuhan selain Dia. Hanya kepada-Nya aku bertawakal dan Dia adalah Tuhan yang memiliki Arsy yang agung.

Bismillah saja lah..