Selasa, 30 September 2008
Jumat, 26 September 2008
Menulis review buku di GoodReads
Mengecek Fasity, Gmail dan Lautan Indonesia
Mengupdate status FaceBook
Browsing katalog di MP
bangun pagi dan makan sereal sambil nonton TV
bersih-bersih rumah lalu olahraga sebentar
kemudian memasak dua jenis sayur dan kini memakannya di depan komputer
Sigh. Ini saatnya menulis lagi. Sampai ide menclok ke halaman yang saya kerjakan.
Senin, 22 September 2008
I'm LOVING it! The first big change since the usual bob, the constant semi long hair and the highlights I did once a while..
What makes it cool is that I've had long hair all year, so the curls look pretty neat :D
At first I was dubious because the curls did not show all that much, but after washing my hair for the first time this morning, I was so pleased.
Hehehehe. Can't stop bragging about it now.
Rabu, 17 September 2008
I wish I could've been in one of those antique booksellers. It'll be heaven!
Selasa, 16 September 2008
Senin, 15 September 2008
Selena berarti bulan, sekeping sabit perak yang memantulkan sinar surya. Bayangan itu yang terus terpantul dalam benakku ketika melihatnya bermain. Seorang gadis remaja dengan rambut halus membingkai wajah, sebuah biola kayu ukir yang kebesaran dalam pegangannya, jari-jari mungil yang sebisa mungkin menggenggamnya dan memberikan hidup kepada benda yang dipercayainya.
Setiap kali Selena memainkan biolanya, aku selalu merasa hujan sedang merintik dalam ruangan, walaupun cuaca sedang panas-panasnya di luar
“Biola ini adalah hidupku, Yan.”
Tentu saja aku mengerti. Bagaimana pun, biola pun pernah menjadi hidupku. Biola itu adalah hidup matinya. Tanpa biola itu, mungkin dia tidak akan mampu melewati hari-harinya. Dua orang pelayan yang keluar masuk memastikan makanannya telah tertelan, sebuah kotak pil yang tak pernah kosong dengan butiran tablet seputih kapur, juga demam panas yang membuatnya mengigau setiap malam. Belum lagi ketakutan akan ajal yang menjelang. Mungkinkah dia mencoba menghalaunya dengan musik? Ataukah musik menjadi sebuah ajang pelarian diri, pencapaian damai untuk memaafkan diri sendiri? Aku tidak tahu. Tidak perlu ada alasan bagi seseorang untuk mencintai sesuatu.
“Bunyi biola ini mungkin terdengar begitu buruk di telingamu,” dia tertawa kepadaku malam itu, saat tubuhnya terlalu lemah untuk bangkit dari tempat tidur. “Tapi bagiku suaranya lebih indah dari apa pun.”
Aku ingin berbohong dengan mengungkapkan persetujuanku, tapi berubah pikiran ketika melihat senyum tipis di wajahnya. “Permainan biolamu mengingatkanku akan gerimis.” Begitu aku berkata. Lebih baik, bukan seutuhnya kebohongan, tanpa mengusulkan konotasi apa pun.
Matanya membulat. “Gerimis itu sendu.”
Dia menggeleng. “Apakah laguku terdengar sendu bagimu? Jangan biarkan kesedihan mempengaruhi pengamatanmu. Kamu
Aku memberikan segelintir senyum pahit sebagai balasannya.
Dan Selena pun terus memainkan lagu yang sama, berulang-ulang setiap malamnya. Lagu itu bagaikan antidot, penawar racun yang lebih ampuh dari obat pereda sakit, setiap kali tubuhnya mengkhianatinya. Pachebel Canon – lagu favoritku yang biasa dimainkan oleh Bach, kini menjadi milik Selena sejak partisi itu menjadi miliknya.
“Aku akan segera mati. Iya
“Tapi mereka tidak pernah merasakan hidup, Selena.”
Dia tersenyum pahit. “Adil, bukan? Supaya sesuatu tidak pernah mati, dia tidak perlu hidup. Sedangkan yang hidup, suatu saat akan berakhir.”
Mungkin demam tinggi yang menyebabkannya meracau seperti itu, tapi aku mengerti apa maksudnya.
“Yan, kalau mendengar suara biola, ingatlah padaku, ya?”
Aku mengangguk dan berjanji. “Tentu saja tidak, lagu itu yang mengisi kepalaku setiap malamnya.”
Dia tersenyum dan menutup mata. “Aku lelah, Yan.”
Aku mengangguk sekali lagi, merasakan genggaman tangannya yang mendingin dalam jemariku.
“Mainkan lagu itu untukku.”
Selama bertahun-tahun aku berhenti menyentuh benda itu, sejak aku kehilangan nyawa musikku bersama konser yang gagal. Aku sudah lama tidak memainkan lagu itu, dari awal hingga akhir, tanpa berhenti karena harus menganalisa permainanku dan mengkritik penampilan yang buruk. Sudah lama aku tidak bermain, karena aku tahu aku selalu gagal.
“Sekali saja. Kamu berhutang satu lagu padaku.”
Dengan ragu aku mengulurkan tangan untuk meraih biola itu dari sisi tempat tidurnya, mengambil nafas panjang dan membiarkan sebentuk perasaan puas merasuki diriku ketika aku menyentuh lekuk kayunya yang solid, senarnya yang lentur, busurnya yang kuat.
Malam itu aku memainkannya, Pachebel Canon yang sempurna.
Ketika pandangannya berubah sayu dan dia memejamkan mata, aku pun melakukan hal yang sama. Merasakan rinai gerimis mengetuk-ngetuk, dan riuh-rendah tepukan tangan seorang gadis, dari kejauhan.
Sudah setahun ini saya luntang-lantung mencari ide, mengorek inspirasi, menulis hanya untuk menghapusnya kembali. Capek, memang. Sempat berpikir untuk berhenti menulis saja, kalau menulis itu terasa menjadi sebuah keharusan dan bahkan tanggung jawab.. Beban. Kata itu menakutkan saya.
Lalu sempat saya membaca komentar Kinu pada blog Windry beberapa saat lalu. Jangan menulis kalau terpaksa. Kembalilah jika memang ingin.
Melihat teman-teman seperjuangan sibuk memperjuangkan karya mereka, terus menulis dan bahkan memperkaya diri, saya jadi kelimpungan. Kenapa hanya saya yang jalan di tempat? Ke mana saja saya selama ini? Kenapa mereka berlari dan saya malahan mundur perlahan-lahan?
Takutkah? Bosan? Malas?
Saya terlalu idle selama ini. Terlalu lama berhenti dan enggan maju. Sampai sekarang memang saya belum menemukan diri saya yang dulu dalam tulisan saya, tapi saya akan terus berusaha. Dan semoga saya dapat melakukannya kembali.. SEGERA :)
Sabtu, 13 September 2008
Something that's been sitting on my laptop for months. Let me know what you think :)
The beach and the sea are separate worlds on their own. I always believed that. Species and creatures live harmoniously down under, places we have never thought we could see, people we have never thought we would encounter. But I was fortunate enough to own one magical moment with one of their kinds.
It was a grey evening. Close to a stormy night, if you counted the number of the stars in the pit of the sky, the way the wind slapped against my skin and how cold the sand felt underneath my feet. It was the night my father died. I heard the phone ring an hour ago, and my mother stared wordlessly at me as she clutched the cord and let tears slowly consume her grief. I did not need to hear her say the words, the hollow silence that phone call caused said it all. I was fourteen years old.
You could say I followed the northern wind. I would say I had nowhere to go. A destination would have made things more resolute, more confirmed. And I was not ready for a change yet. So I walked down the beach, my fingers tapping each palm tree as I did so. When I sat at the border where the waves touched the land, I began to cry.
Normally I would never forgive myself for showing a moment of weakness. But tonight I kept sobbing, the tears wetting my knees and my cries swallowed by the storm. I must have cried my heart out because at one point, I was oblivious to the fact that suddenly everything calmed down. It was one of those moments when you felt bizarre – like when someone snapped two fingers and the noise simply turned to a hysteria of silence, or as if someone turned down the volume of the world. I looked up at once, and there he was standing in front of me.
He was not quite human, even I could see that. His hair was the finest silver I had ever seen – as loose as silk. I wondered how it would feel to touch them. His eyes were the color of the sky, the blue of the sea I had never seen before. His face was long, angular, with a smile that striked as cold beauty. His cheeks glowed rosy red, and his skin was a pale bronze; even though it was dark it seemed as if he were shining. He was an angel, he was the devil, or perhaps a star. But he was life, all by himself.
I could go on describing him, but the truth was, I lost all power of speech. I was not afraid, I just hated being unsure. But then again, back then perhaps I mistook fear for uncertainty.
“What are you?” That bubble of thought exploded in my mind, reaching my tongue but still I could not say it properly.
“As you might have guessed, I’m a fairy. A sea creature.”
I caressed his face with my stare, and all he did was smile. A fairy? Was he for real?
“Yes.” He said, his voice smooth and quiet. I wondered if only I could hear it. “I’m real.”
Scarlet rose to my cheeks when I realized he could read my mind. I found my voice and pretended I was brave. “Can anybody else see you?”
He shook his head.
“Why can I?”
He shrugged again. “Because you’re a property of magic.”
“I’m magic?” I almost laughed at that. I might be different than other kids my age, but I was not one of magic.
“How could you be so sure you are not?” he asked and lifted one hand to touch me. I flinched and moved back, forgetting my tears at once. “You do not have to be afraid,” he whispered. The ringing of his voice almost lulled me to sleep, and it was much more beautiful than music because I felt like dancing. Barefooted on the beach at midnight. He had that power on me.
I shivered when his long fingers touched my skin. It felt like rough edges of a diamond, cold, ruthless, but precious at the same time. He ran them down my tearstained face, my quivering lips, my trembling chin.
“Your eyes,” he murmured softly. “Your eyes are the color of jade, with irises as dark as moss. They are special. That is why you can see me.”
I stood transfixed, not knowing how to respond. When I was little, my grandmother would sit me on her lap and read me fairy tales from centuries ago. Some of them were true, she said, but I never really believed her. How could I believe that fairies and goblins existed, how could gnomes and nymphs be more than victims of human’s imaginations?
“I am real because you see me,” he said, once again interpreting my thoughts. “You will just have to believe.”
“What is your name?”
“Fairies like me do not have the pleasures of owning a name,” he said simply.
“And your home?”
“Tree barks underneath the sea,” he replied earnestly, “The insides of an empty seashell. The bubbles of sea foam. The tears of a mermaid. The place where the rainbow touches the water. The sound of the wind. You never know.”
I sighed, because it sounded so wonderful. He must have understood the strength of my thoughts and the expression on my face because he continued, “You wanted to come to my world.”
In stories like this, human beings were always too tempted to follow a myth-like creature to his world. They forgot what they were supposed to do, and in turn they were never to return. I, too, was as greedy as they were. I was charmed by those aqua eyes, the touch that held pleasure, and the voice that sang like a lullaby. Most of all, I wanted to prove he was real. So I pleaded.
Again, he shook his head, the silvery mane draping his shoulders like a blanket. “No, you must not come. You will learn of regret. They will hunt you, and kill you.”
He looked sad. “Other fairies.”
He did not answer for a very long time. “Because fairies are not supposed to fall in love with ordinary human beings,” he finally replied. “When they do, the humans shall die.”
“Fairies know of love?” I asked, out of curiosity.
“We know of everything. We know the past, and the future.”
“What do you know about me?”
He looked at me sadly. “I know that your father died tonight. I know that you would one day be a hero. I know that I would fall in love with you, and that I would never be able to see you again. Fairies know a great deal about things in this world, too much for our own good.
We already knew our destiny on the day we were born.” He smiled again, a smile of goodbye. I saw enough to notice one. “My destiny says I am going to die on the day I meet you.”
“So that you could live.”
He paused, his beautiful features softening as he looked at me one last time. “Goodbye, Wednesday. You will never see me again.”
He pressed one bony finger on his lips and touched the tip to my mouth – a kiss of the fairies. And then he was gone. Dust, ashes, and air. All that could never replace him.
My mother found me on the beach just before sunrise. She had been looking everywhere for me since the stroke of midnight. A villager swore he saw a shadow surrounded by a bright light, and made a motion to check – only to find me shivering with pneumonia, alone in the beach. They said I was going to die. They said I was lucky to be saved.
I was found, but I was never the same again.
That was also the last time I ever saw the fairy.
I stayed in the hotel and roamed around, did some shopping, and when I finally set foot on the beach, it felt...
Somehow I felt like I should go to Bali to release the stress welling up inside me, with this naive thinking that I would be able to write once I was there. But the few words I could manage were lousy short stories that couldn't even pass my test. I mean, where had my senses gone? How come I could no longer find my muse and keep writing? It had nearly been a year, and I was tired of waiting.
I felt the waves crashing on my feet, licking my calves with half wet sand and the wind was fluttering in my face.
At that moment I knew exactly how Ai felt.
I want to write about characters I care about.
I want to be able to identify myself in the characters.
I want to write characters I like, even though I don't always agree with them I will find them leading their own stories, taking me with them and I will no longer direct what they want to say or do.
That's how I think I find my passion back.
I'm gonna start rearranging my deadlines, and get working :)
I really hope.. my muse is back.
Senin, 08 September 2008
Kamis, 04 September 2008
Ceritanya setahun setelah season 2 berakhir.. Hmmm.. Lumayan kangen sih sama HYD, walau udah nonton tahun lalu.
Not too excited karena udah nonton versi SBS-nya..
Nah yang ini memang ditunggu-tunggu, tapi sepertinya gak ada tim dari Indonesia deh..
Whattt? Gak bener banget kalo versi baratnya mengusung nama Zac Efron sebagai Light Yagami. No offense but he's kind of corny untuk peran ini. Tapi saya mendukung Gaspard Ulliel jadi L (karena dia keren banget actingnya). Lee Junki juga akan jadi L versi Korea.
Yang masih masuk keranjang belanjaan:
- DVD Time Between Dog and Wolf
- DVD My Sweet Seoul
- First Boyfriend nomor 2
Yang masih ditunggu-tunggu:
- DVD The Secret Life of American Teenager
- Lipstick Jungle season 2
- Gossip Girl season 2
- House season 5
I sleep late this week just so I could finish it, and today I'm gonna end the curiosity for the last four episodes. Caught the spoiler early and the ending is supposedly unfriendly.
But hey, I deserve after office hours fun and Iljimae is a great way of filling them.