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Singkat cerita, satu keinginan lagi sudah terpenuhi.

Keriangan duniawi dini hari ini wujudnya berupa hasil unduhan beragam aplikasi Android yang sejak dulu ingin dimiliki tapi tak bisa, maklum ponselnya impoten karena sistem operasinya Symbian. Mulai menjajaki aplikasi-aplikasi "gaul" semacam Path dan Instagram, juga Line yang unggul dari WhatsApp berkat fitur nelpon gratis, tapi yang paling mengasyikkan adalah Blogger Mobile, jadi bisa ngeblog di mana saja dan kapan saja, hore!

Senangnya, masih punya kesempatan untuk menikmati hal-hal baru (dan punya gadget yang bisa dipakai nge-post foto di Twitter, jadi kalau disuruh livetweeting nggak harus pinjem hp atau kirim foto via Whatsapp lagi hihihi).

Selain itu, juga ada waktu untuk nostalgia, yang datang tepat waktu di akhir pekan.

As I have said once: Once one is a debater, they will always be one. The only difference is the setting.

A little note on loss

I just lost my phone.

My secondary mobile phone, to be exact, the one I used just recently for work-related purposes (I hate using past tense for this). This is the first time I ever lost my phone since I started using this particular gadget twelve years ago.

As expected, words of encouragement, as well as criticism, follow. I was told that the unfortunate event is yet another example of “When it happens, it happens”, just like how things generally would fall into places; hence there is no point of mourning the loss.

I did not. Well, maybe a little, because a loss is a loss nevertheless. Once you had something, now you do not. And there is this famous line, “You never know what you got ‘till it’s gone”, to put some extra regret into the situation. Although, maybe because I did not put so much important and irreplaceable information, I did not feel so much at loss for losing it. This also serves as a reminder for me to regularly backup the content of my phone, just in case.

My only consolation was to wish that my phone could be of better use for the person who took it, in any way possible. Still, it is a shame; I thought to myself, that I did not manage to be more careful.

“But why blaming yourself for something that is supposed to happen anyway?” was my dad’s next sentence, after reminding me not to play the victim card and secretly hope for anything bad to happen to the perpetrator.

“Because I should not have let that happened, and I have managed to done so all this time,” I replied repentantly.

Somehow, I can hear his comforting smile as he said, “Be grateful, though, and don’t forget to pray. Something way better is coming along the way.”

hello, (new) beginning.

I had my first day of work today. I am now a magazine reporter once more.

I do not know if this is one of the benefits of wanting to achieve too many things, that some people sometimes glorify as "dreams". However, I do know that when an old chapter ends, a new chapter begins; and today is the first the day of living one of my dreams.

I am re-watching Suits for the millionth time while writing this, and I promptly hit the pause button when I heard someone saying, "You never forget your first." Oh, apparently Mike Ross just had his first trial (watch episode 4 for the full scoop). Interesting coincidence.

There is not much details to share on how today was like. I do not know what kind of first impression I have made, and to be honest, I do not feel like pondering about it and ended up over-analysing things like I always do. So far, though, I can tell that this living-the-dream thing is very promising, and I am ready to take up the challenge and embrace the fruitful experience.

I remember one of my friends said to me some time ago that she "won't be in this (read: media) business forever." True to her words, she have left her workplace she had back then and moved to an entirely different industry. Strange as it may sound, I am now in the very realm that she once had as a stepping stone, believing that I am in for the long haul (which might be interrupted by one or two years of studying abroad - hey, you'll never know :D).

Before this seems too much like a teenage girl's diary entry, I am going to stop here with a self-reminder: things may not be perfect, but they can get better.

Good night.

On Bravery (and Being Right)

There is an old Indonesian proverb that reminds people to "be brave because (you are) right, (and) be afraid because (you are) wrong."

I believe that this notion is not to be taken for granted. Without a thorough understanding, declaring something as "right" or "wrong" is simply a matter of providing an acceptable justification or getting the majority share.

Let’s say that we are, or have to be, brave because we are right.

However, what makes us "right"?

Does one become "right" simply because they are "not wrong"?

If one must, or at least can, be "brave" because they are "right", what should they be "brave" enough to do, and to what extent?

Also, what about one who believes that they are "right", then later encountered another who fervently thinks that what is "right" is something else on the contrary?

Before I go on, I would like to highlight that this piece is not about to discuss what is right and/or wrong, but how bravery has got to do with them. Okay, proceed.

On the other part of the sentence, being "afraid" is associated with what is "wrong". This implies that one has to be "afraid" to do "wrong", or be "afraid" to get caught for doing something "wrong". Yet, as human beings, we make mistakes every now and then and therefore prone to wrongdoings. Why on earth should we be afraid of something so naturally humane?

Apparently, there is a scientific explanation behind this.

"The body makes a chemical choice about how best to protect itself – in this case from the shame and loss of power associated with being wrong," said Judith E. Glaser in her article titled Your Brain Is Hooked on being Right. She furthermore explained that "When you argue and win, your brain floods with different hormones: adrenaline and dopamine, which makes you feel good, dominant, even invincible."

According to Glaser, the said chemical choice leads to the inability to regulate the body’s emotion or handle the gaps between expectations and reality. Humans will then default to one of four responses: to fight, flight, freeze, or appease. "All are harmful because they prevent the honest and productive sharing of information and opinion," she noted.

After reading Glaser’s elaboration, it came as no surprise to me that bravery is associated with being right, and fear with wrongdoings, hence the proverb.

But, in my opinion, this is where it becomes rather problematic: the proverb seems to encourage one to be "brave" only when they are "right", but not when they are "wrong".

Being "brave" when one believes themselves to be "right" is fairly easy, for it feels good and all. For example, telling a smoker to stop smoking in a non-smoking area at a public place might be hardly challenging. One would believe that they are doing the "right" thing; therefore they are "brave" enough to confront the said smoker.

However, it is a different case when one was confronted for being late for an important meeting by their boss. They might feel the need to make up an excuse ("The traffic’s unusually bad this morning", "I had a flat tire on the way", etc.), because they are "afraid" that admitting their waking up late would not be beneficial to their overall performance at work. They might get away by doing so once or twice, but when somebody else found out that their justification is fabricated, well… that is another story.

I then came to a conclusion that being "brave" is crucial regardless of one is "right" or "wrong".

One who is "afraid" when or because they do "wrong" might find it inconvenient to take the responsibility for their wrongdoing. I am not saying that one has to be "brave" by being explicitly detailed in admitting that they are "wrong"; but I believe that it is important for one to acknowledge their mistake, so they can offer apologies to those affected and do the necessary damage control. By doing so, they are willing to commit to fix the situation, and in the meantime obtain the lesson learned from their mistake.

Of course, it feels more comfortable to be "right". Glaser argues that due to the good feeling caused by adrenaline when one is winning an argument, humans are addicted to being right. However, she proposed that there is another feel-good hormone human body can produce: oxytocin. "It’s activated by human connection and it opens up the networks in our executive brain, or prefrontal cortex, further increasing our ability to trust and open ourselves to sharing," Glaser stated.

As much as connecting and bonding with others trumps conflict, Glaser concluded that anyone "can break their addiction to being right by getting hooked on oxytocin-inducing behaviour instead."

I began this piece with an Indonesian proverb, so let me end it with another, which says, "One who is brave enough to act must also is brave enough to take responsibility." It implies that, as much as one is expected to "be brave because (they are) right", it comes to little use if one is not brave enough to handle the possible consequence of them being not entirely right.

I believe that nobody is right all the time. Therefore, to be "brave" enough to embrace the possibility of being or doing "wrong" opens oneself to sharing. Only then, one is willing to listen to dissenting opinions and exchange ideas, so they can obtain some new perspective to enrich their initial understanding.

On Purity

Writing something in response to things I perceived, sometimes, is my kind of itch to scratch.

The said itch emerged this morning when I found this picture below. It was shared by a friend from a Facebook page of a parody version of Rizieq Shihab, the founder of a hardliner organisation The Islamic Defenders Front (FPI).

Tickled by how the picture being so hilariously thought-provoking, I decided to share the picture onto my Facebook timeline. Apparently, not long afterwards, a Facebook friend (should I start using this term interchangeably with the word "acquaintance", by the way?), that happens to be a former high school classmate I haven't talk to for years, could not resist the temptation to comment on my post.

Being both puzzled and appalled as I could be after reading his statement, I needed to take my time in giving appropriate reaction. I did consider possible responses, varying from writing an elaborated criticism to deleting the comment (or maybe letting it as is, you know, for I believe in Voltaire's words that says, "I do not agree with what you have to say, but I'll defend to the death your right to say it").

One might be tired of hearing that "nothing in this world is either right or wrong", or "the only certain thing in this world is change". However, let me simplify this piece of thought a little bit by scooping it to the word "pure", that becomes the itch to scratch today. What is it anyway?

pure
Pronunciation: /pjʊə/

adjective

    1 not mixed or adulterated with any other substance or material

• without any extraneous and unnecessary elements
• free of any contamination
• (also pure-bred) (of an animal or plant) of unmixed origin or descent; pedigree

    2 (of a sound) perfectly in tune and with a clear tone
    3 wholesome and untainted by immorality, especially that of a sexual nature

    4 (of a subject of study) dealing with abstract concepts and not practical application

Look, how the word implies such cleanliness and innocence, to regard something flawlessly genuine. Oh, and how I have overdone this adjective by explaining it through even more adjectives, arguably not making things any clearer.

Oh, yes, my point exactly.

Adjectives, my lecturer once said, should not be used when one is attempting to be as objective as they can, for they are prone to be interfered by individual values and therefore interpretations may vary. For journalists, he continued, such circumstance must be avoided at all cost, because you do not want your audience to perceive the news differently than what has actually happened. Since that day on, his words has become something I live by.

Today, being a journalist no more, I still believe in the minimum use of adjectives, should I attempt to convey my already-subjective thoughts in a fairly understandable manner (although it seems that even now I am using adjectives). Therefore, the usage of word "pure" on the comment above, as I have already highlighted, is something "delightfully debatable."

Oversimplify something as profound (at least for some people) as religion with only one word, "pure", and observe how much one has left out. The word, I believe, does not do justice to religion, which, according to George Bernard Shaw, there is only one but there are a hundred versions of it.

Honestly, how one can even measure a (version of) religion to daringly claim it as "pure"?

Should one believes in a particular version of religion to be pure, how then would they see the other versions of religion? Would they see the believers of other versions as infidels, or the non-believers as people who disrespect divine teachings, and see themselves being purified by believing in "something pure"? When they interact with people who believe in the different versions of religion, are they secretly thinking that "what you believe in is not the right thing to believe because it is, according to my belief, is not pure", and considering to make the effort to convert them to some extent?

I am not writing to discuss the importance of believing in any particular version of the religion, nor to claim which one is "pure". I just found it amazing, in the most unfavourable sense possible, that some people today still choose to believe that they are right and others are wrong, without even slightly trying to understand the perspectives on the opposite side, let alone questioning the belief that most of them have embraced blindly.

I think I also should address another thing: when one tries to "find the pure one" among a hundred versions of religion, what would they do? Would they thoroughly study all, or most, or some of them first before eventually choose one? Or would they believe in something just because their parents and ancestors did that in the first place? If it is the latter, do they dig deep to get more understanding on what they supposed to believe in because it is supposed to be pure; or just take it as is, also because it is supposed to be pure, and hence it should not be questioned?

I believe I must say this: No matter how "pure" something might be, it is all a matter of interpretations and how it is being applied, then it can retain its "purity". However, whether or not something, including religion, is still pure when it is used as a justification to violate others, this I would leave up to you.

The Dream: A Study Plan

I blame Harry Potter for making me dreaming of going to the United Kingdom, and Hogwarts for studying at the country. It started as a dream of a secondary school student, and now it is a dream I have been keeping for over a decade. The land has captivated me with its charm in the forms of its rich cultural heritage, its fast-paced society, its metropolitan atmosphere going side-by-side with lush countryside, its commendable media products (BBC One's Sherlock, anyone?), and, of course, its accent. Oh, how I wish that being overdosed on British television shows will get me such poised accent!

Ahem. Anyway.

I have been dreaming of studying in the United Kingdom; London, to be exact. Some of the reasons have been stated above. As a mere dream of a teenager, it might not seem to be sufficient. After all, one can dream about literally anything, but what matters most is how they are willing to do what it takes to make their dreams come true.

So I pave my way to my study in the United Kingdom. I went through secondary school and university with specific field of study in mind. I developed my interests into something more tangible and curiosity-inducing, which ended up as a bachelor degree in journalism. When my keen interest in journalism in particular and media studies in general is combined with my fascination on the UK, it is fairly understandable that it became a start for me to look for such programmes in the universities in the UK.

I have done some researches, and found several universities with promising programmes and location (having a "city girl" bias, I opt for only London-based unis). Oh, scholarship opportunities also becomes one of the crucial points of consideration. So far, I have included SOAS (The School of Oriental and African Studies), University of Westminster, and Goldsmiths. Given my current workplace's focus on development, both MA in Media and Development and Global Media and Transnational Communications offered in those universities particularly spark my interest.

Now that I have found where and what to study, it is the time to start planning further steps prior to applying.

To be frank, it scares me in a way. I am afraid about scores required for the application, and whether mine will be adequate. I am worried about how will I fund the costs. Hell, even the number of years of experience I have right now scares me.

It is not that I have been in such state before. And I know that it feels like history is repeating itself. Well, in that case, I just know what to do: keep trying, keep doing - one thing at a time. Besides, busy worrying will not get me to the land of Merlin, no?

On Coming Back

I know, I know. It has been quite some time for me to abandon this blog, although I have (actually) pledged to post every week. My apologies.

I found it quite common for bloggers to provide justifications on their absence of posts when coming back from a momentary blogging hiatus, but honestly, sometimes it is way too elaborated and ended up being an almost unnecessary supply of too much information.

In my case, it is safe to conclude that other than being occupied by the new responsibilities at my new workplace, I am aware that I did not make the time to write. Yes, it is not that I do not have enough time to write, nor I have nothing to write about. Instead, I have numerous drafts in different stage of completion but they remain unfinished anyway.

Nevertheless, I think it is important to acknowledge the causes that make one ended up not doing something they supposed to, instead of trying to justify such act through excuses. In my opinion, only by doing so, one can embrace their limitations before start overcoming it. In the case of getting myself to update my blog in a regular basis, I call it “coming back”.

Sometimes I would feel like I am getting nowhere and it sucks, because, more or less, I have to move forward or it feels like dying. I dislike seeing people going their ways, striving and thriving, when I am idling aimlessly. At those times, I would not even bother calling myself “laid back”, although in my defence, I might say that I am just taking a step back to observe my surrounding to determine the next destination, which way to take, and how to get there. Thankfully, such period never lasts too long to the extent it becomes agonising. Before I know it, I will be coming back on track, to continue playing the game of life.

For quite some time, I have been wondering what I have accomplished so far, and whether they comply with whatever the society believes to be the right pathway for “a girl like me”. However, I believe that life is not a race. I am not in favour of doing things just to catch up with my peers, and I will not say yes just because I am tired of saying no.

That being said, I am back on blogging because I am aware that I need to. As I have already talked about my reasons to write, not writing makes me feel like bottling up feelings and letting thoughts go down the drain.

Indeed, since I already have a binding commitment with myself, it means that I also have to do so. It is like owing yourself the pleasure to articulate what you have in mind and to document memories you want to cherish.

As December makes many people suddenly turn reflective towards the ebb-and-flow of their lives (hence the many New Year’s Resolutions and all), I have another pledge to make for this blog: incorporate pictures (yes, plural) into every post. I have a decent camera-phone now, so there should not be excuses regarding having substandard gadget anymore.

In conclusion, I am back – with more posts to come! Thanks to a project called "Reverb 12: The Prompts", I am going to have post for each and every day in December 2012. Yayss! :)

A Chronicle of Me and the Written Words

I write for too many reasons, or maybe no reason at all. Nevertheless, I am glad that I write, for whatever reason it might be.

Arguably, the first reason why I write is because I appreciated my first name with enmity as a child. Other kids, with their raw creativity, would call me names – or, to be exact, a consumer brand and a mountain of Japanese origin, and that annoyed me to no end. I wished for a more "girly" first name to complement my last name that I found to be gorgeous.

So, shortly after my baby sister was born, I used the book of baby names my mum had, to began writing by making up new names for me and imagining what will become of me in prettier first names. Later on, I realised that I have made up way too many names for myself, so I began writing stories to make the most of the overflowing name supply. Unlike J. K. Rowling, who recalls her first story to be titled "Rabbit", probably my first pieces of work were the homework I submitted as a first grader.

But, then, I knew that there were so much more I can write, since I have been reading too. My mum subscribed to a children magazine for me and it opened a lot of windows to the world. I read when I eat and my mum used to snap at me for that habit. I spent my school break, as well as the free time if I came early to school, reading at the library. In the school bus, I would borrow the text books from my senior and read them on the way to school. I took notes during class thoroughly and revised them almost every night. At the end of every term, the school would require the students to buy text books for the next term, and I would spend my holiday reading them – as well as making summaries out of them – when I had no places to go for recreation. My, do I sound like a nerd already?

By the time I reached secondary school, I have written stories in various length, poems, and – of course – regular updates in my diary. I didn't revise my school notes as often as I did back in primary school because I had started to plunge myself into the realm of extracurricular activities, that includes me skipping classes to join regional competitions. I screwed in math but my scores in languages and social science subjects were not bad, so I decided to take social science major in my eleventh grade.

Next thing I know, I was a part of the school's English debating team, and that means extra reading in the name of motion researches as well as more concise-writing for cases the team were building. The routine later on developed my interest in critical thinking, so I started to write not only about what I feel, but also what I think, on whatever that tickles my fancy. I posted those thoughts in my blog, which now I keep as private, because most of the posts are pretty juvenile and I prefer to preserve that for myself since I have grown out of that anyway.

Given the fact that I have been enjoying reading and writing, it was almost clear to me in my teenage days, what major should I take in college. Yes, literature. However, one of my secondary school English teacher told me not to take literature as my major, since it would be important for people to be (somewhat) omnipotent in years to come, so I should instead consider other possibilities to conquer. As reading has been making me eager to see the world, I thought that being a diplomat was the best career path I could possibly take. However, it was, among others, my passion to write, that brought me to a decision to study communication sciences.

Today, I write magazine articles for a living. It is indeed quite pleasurably interesting to do what you love and having that considered as work. However, the routine also reminds me once again that written words do expand horizons, and that is one of the reasons why people read. As a writer, I am aware of this immense responsibility of so-called “enlightening people”, and sometimes it becomes a professional burden. This makes me also write outside of work. Writing for myself brings me enormous joy, as it liberates me from the aforementioned sentiments and particular state(s) of mind that could possibly weigh me down.

Let me tell you one thing: I over-think, almost all the time. As overwhelming at it may sound, over-thinking makes one inundated with ideas inside their heads, that spark wild guesses on what might be, and it makes me worry a lot in my life. I found that to be toxic sometimes. Worry hurts not only one's self-confidence, but also their optimism on the silver lining.

Thankfully, writing becomes as a powerful remedy for me. As I pour my overflowing thoughts into words, I discharge the worry away, leaving me ready to embrace whatever possibility is coming. When my worry is written, I have already made some sort of distance with it, putting it away from me. I also write when I am engulfed with certain feeling(s), which may form some substantial matters to furthermore elaborate them. Once I wrote because I was touched by the love I (and many other people I talked to) have for my country's culinary charm, and some other time I put my eagerness into words on the importance of talking about sex. My written pieces of worry, as well as other forms of emotion, serve me as a reminder on what I have been through, that I overcame them eventually and today I can feel glad that I have experienced and been personally enriched by them.

However, there is also a slightly bright side of over-thinking, if I may call it so, which is the flood of ideas that might come to me in a speed of light. Being as easily forgetful as a human being can be, I feel the need to preserve them so they do not go to waste. Therefore, I try to conserve my ideas as soon as possible by putting them into words.

On another note, speaking of letting something, or actually anything at all, to go down the drain, I believe that it is a form of ingratitude. I mean, since most people already believe that everything happens for a reason, we might as well agree that it is the same circumstance with ideas. There are reasons why human beings have senses, mind, and ability to think, and I believe that not making the most of them is also a waste, and doing so means one is ungrateful for what they have been given. Also, things I observe – see, taste, feel, listen to, even smell – often get my thoughts wandering and I feel the need to document the trip to express my gratitude about it. 

Living is easy with eyes closed, said The Beatles, but I believe that if you can open your eyes to see, enjoy, and cherish things that makes your life worth living, why not?

On Gratitude

Have you ever looked at your reflection, having it staring at you, and it feels like, somehow, there is nothing else you can do but to be grateful?

I am not sure if this is the kind of feeling I am in. Honestly, I cannot even explain what it is. I hate not being able to describe things into words, yet I constantly feel things (are they even "things"?) but I cannot tell what they actually are. However, let me break down the symptoms for now and see if that would help.

First thing first. Usually, such indefinable state of mind happens after a series of events that trigger different kind of impressions, and such feelings are oddly mixed altogether through such weird circumstances.

Second of all, because of the said circumstance, I will freak out. In this stage, I wish I have some chill pills to take, but all I can do is only to scream silently and hope I will stop freaking out anytime soon. I will try to distract myself through doing professional responsibilities, but since I have none at the moment, I could only browse aimlessly even though I know it can do me no good.

Thirdly, I will just give up on the attempts to make myself sober, and then I will stare hopelessly at the mirror, or any reflection-producing surfaces, as if I am trying to look for clues by mentally asking, "Mirror Mirror on the wall, what the hell is happening?"

Often times, I would gaze at my reflection, who (or which?) is staring back at me, only to feel oh-so-stupid. But earlier today, strangely, I looked at my office computer screen and felt weirdly amazed. I could not tell why, but suddenly the thought of I-cannot-believe-I-am-so-blessed-to-be-in-this-situation hit me and stuck in my conscience. Everything was so well-put together: the song I was listening to through the new headphone I won from a lucky draw, the job I have that brought me to this very seat in this cubicle, the opportunities that keep on coming to me... it makes the future seems to be so, well, promising. And I was giddily ecstatic, as if I can burst into bubbles of excitement.

Yet, at (almost) the same time, I was scared too. Yes, the future can also scare me oh so much. I am still nervous, my fingers tremble as I type this (although probably I can blame the AC at the office too). But I am afraid, really really afraid, for way too many reasons, one of them for screwing things up, because it happens way too often.

Honestly, I still cannot calm myself down completely and it feels kind of awful. However, as this situation happens quite frequently for the past few months, I sort of know how to deal with it.

I would hold on to the thought that whatever may happen, it will happen for the best of reasons, and it is just a matter of time before I realise that. I do not buy the line "prepare for the worst", because in most cases, what considered as "worst" is simply the "best" circumstance, with the delayed understanding as to why it is the best that can happen.

And when that happens, I know that I can only be hopelessly grateful.