Aegean Dreamer

about a story-teller & her latte while sailing over Aegean sea

[nitnitha]

Jarak Dua Garis Bersilangan

Bila hidup adalah kata-kata yang tersusun mendatar dan menurun bak teka-teki, bisa jadi kita berdua sedang mengeja vokal dan konsonan bersama. Bersilangan, namun kadang sejajar, kadang pula berpotongan. Menyintasi remeh-temeh pertengkaran, mematut diri untuk berdampingan. Pikirmu melawan pikirku. Ucapku melumat egomu. Egomu jadi patuh agar marahku luruh.

Kalau memang menjalani hidup beriringan selama hampir 4 tahun adalah ‘kebetulan’ yang tak disengaja, rupa-rupanya aku mulai percaya bahwa Tuhan pandai bergurau. Dan bila jarak dua garis bersilangan bisa diukur, kiranya dimensi tiga memberi kita makna. Bahwa tiap jengkal jarak yang kita gariskan adalah cerita tentang sepasang puan dan tuan yang ingin berbahagia.

Seperti soal matematika yang mudah-mudah saja untuk kamu kerjakan, tapi rasa-rasanya seperti obat pahit yang ingin aku muntahkan. Semoga sendu dan prasangka lusuh bisa terurai, tanpa harus terlalu lama kita pendam. Biar lara enggan berbuah duka, dan berpisah hanyalah sebuah pilihan ketika hela nafas tersisa satu atau dua.

Tentang jarak dua garis bersilangan yang akan kita ceritakan, masih ada sudut-sudut angan yang tak teraih namun menghimpit. Nanti kita akan sampai disana, walapun harus kita bertelut dan mengayuh sampai habis tenaga. Duduk dan menunggu pun tak selalu buruk, karena jalan lapang tak pasti benderang.

Sampai hari tua, harapku untuk baris-baris tawa yang kita timbun agar terus menyala. Menjadi api-api kecil yang tak mau padam walau sumbu ingatan tak lagi panjang. Semoga kenangan bahagia tetap tegak, walau sesal hati buncah memberontak.

Selamat berulang tahun, A.

[nitnitha]

Poor, Pathetic, Pleasant Couch Potato.

I literally have no idea what to write for your birthday. As you know, my writing skill for fictional idea has been significantly dropped since my life is fully absorbed by work. When I have time to write, it means write a bunch of work reports. ‘Wordy’ word is out of my dictionary. My ability to figure out those kind of poetic things has vanished to the air.

When I start to begin this writing.. I was wondering how long we have been doing this ritual and count how many years ahead I have to spend with the same dilemma when your birthday is coming. 

Day by day, we start and end the day in the same place. With constant confusion of where and what to eat in between. We just don’t expect anything except being instantly rich so we can have whatever we want. I buy mini fridge bar, and you buy PS4. But, this city is so evil until we to turn our money into go-food bills, monthly groceries, or wasted movie ticket for a movie like AADC 2. We’re broke. But, why worried too much as long as you can find kitten videos on the Instagram and I can randomly check Rachel Vennya’ Snapchat videos? Yuhuuu~~~

Just like this writing, I have no idea how we will be. We just like a couple of couch potatoes who want nothing but constant full-stomachs, and own nothing but sleepy heads. We definitely have no picture about future. For others, our existence may be profoundly questionable. But somehow, I’m okay with it.

Thank you for not planning too much but be ready for whatever clumsiness I’ve made. Thank you for letting me be dominant and lead our way up to wherever we belong. *Who runs the world? Me!~~~* And, as simple as I Decide, You Pay.

I guess your pessimism and ignorance will stay the same, that I couldn’t ask for more. I don’t want you to change either, because I understand how hard it is. Same case with my stubborn head. It seems that everything will be fine as long as each of us are fine with the complaint and blaming. Like this:

•       Please, please, please shut the bathroom’s door off after use.

•       Stop using the same t-shirt you wear in the outside to go to bed.

•       I’m not your spoke-person. There’s no such kind of hassles like ‘talk to human’.

•       Loose some fats.

•       Some of your t-shirts are too tight (again!)

•       Your boobs definitely are bigger than mine.

PS:

WHY WE CAN TRAVEL TOGETHER MORE OFTEN, HUH?

Because we’re damn poor. I know it. But, please move your ass to explore new places every time we have a chance.

PSS:

I will not give up on you as long as you remember that I will never choose kitten as a pet. I only belong to puppies.

[nitnitha]

Sebelum Menua

Beberapa saat sebelum tidur atau ketika kamu belum benar-benar tidur, melainkan hanya menutup mata dan diam saja demi menyudahi percakapan yang sudah terlalu kemana-mana.. kamu bisa mereka-reka wajahmu sendiri—dengan usia yang menua, tubuh yang melapuk dan mata yang dihiasi kerut-kerut bersulur. Kerut di wajah semakin banyak dan menyulur kemana-mana. Ke pipi, kening, ujung-ujung bibir bahkan sampai kebelakang telinga. Menua adalah menyusut, menunggu habis.

Muda adalah penghabisan. Meraup segala apa yang bisa dilihat, didengar, diterjang dengan perasaan yang kadang tak sesuai dengan apa yang seharusnya dipikirkan. Menimbun sampah sisa kanak-kanak, menjadikannya besar hingga menjadi cermin tak kentara yang kita bawa kemana-mana. Terkadang terlalu banyak yang dihabiskan, hingga rasa-rasanya akan lebih baik bila kita menjadi tumbuhan saja. Mengembang, melahirkan kuncup-kuncup baru dengan mata, mulut, telinga, hidung, dan otak dengan jumlah dan kapasitas yang sama, lalu membagi segala dengan seksama. Biar rasa sedih kita tak telalu penuh, dan bahagia pun tak lebih dari yang bisa direngkuh.

Aku suka tidur, suka sekali. Tidur bagai pemberhentian dari penghabisan satu ke penghabisan lainnya. Membiarkan waktu dan segala disekitar kita terlewat tanpa banyak kendali dari isi kepala, yang sudah takluk diatas bantal lapuk. Mau ada kecoa lewat, silahkan (paling-paling aku baru akan teriak kalau dia menelisip sampai aku terbangun). Mau ada tetesan air dari AC kamar yang bocor juga masa bodoh. Mau pagi-pagi sudah tak bisa bangun lagi juga terima saja. Karena, namanya juga berhenti. Kadang pemberhentian hanya sejenak atau sebaliknya, harus dialami dalam kekal waktu sampai ada orang lain yang menyusul dan semeleh untuk menikmatinya bersama.

Katamu, kalau boleh memilih diantara kita berdua, kamu mau mati lebih dulu. Karena kamu tak bisa membayangkan bahwa kenyataan bisa sekejam itu: aku meninggalkanmu mati. Suatu hari aku bilang, kalau aku mati, dandani saja pakai piyama. Supaya jelas, aku hanya tertidur. Syaratnya pun mudah: tak perlu bertanya kapan aku bisa bangun. Kamu membalas dengan  desahan pendek. Lalu, dihari berikutnya sebelum tidur, kamu berkata lagi.. “Mbok jangan mati, dulu.”. Giliran aku yang mendesah datar.

Tapi, meninggalkanmu semauku bukan perkara mudah. Karena aku hampir pernah melakukannya dan itu bodoh. Hampir, dan untungnya kamu juga bodoh—karena mau menunggu bertahun-tahun. Kebodohan-kebodohan kita itu lama-lama mengakar menjadi keraguan yang bermacam-macam—dan akhirnya kita telan mentah-mentah. Menahun menahan jengah, hingga akhirnya muntah. Tak apa. Paling tidak, kita semakin tahu apa yang semestinya kita tolak jauh-jauh. Apa mungkin kita seharusnya tidak menjadi tumbuhan? Melainkan kapal yang mempertahankan sauh meskipun angin laut terlalu bersungut-sungut menamatkan sisa hari yang masih panjang.

Angin dingin sisa hujan siang tadi memenangkan banyak ronde hingga malam ini. Pertandingan menahan kantuk hanya menyisakan energi untuk menabuh perut keroncongan dan tulisan panjang yang mengekor hingga tempat tidur. Untungnya, kamu sudah pada pemberhentianmu. Mungkin saat ini kamu sedang meneruskan tugasmu sebagai terminator yang harus menangkap aku—penjahat incaranmu yang kesalahannya kamu anulir selama ini, atau berlari-larian bersama anak-anak kucing yang mengeong-ngeong, atau mungkin kamu sedang angkuh-angkuhnya memutar otak demi menjelaskan perhitungan-perhitungan rumit ala John Nash. Berbahagialah, apapun lakonmu.

P. S:

Kalau memang menua adalah menunggu habis, semoga kita tak kepayahan saat berjalan pulang.

[nitnitha]

Happy Birthday, Git!

Dear, Gita Meina Amalia..

There’s a moment in life where you in a pause.  Stop doing anything and bring question to yourself, “Ok. Now, what’s next?” Sometimes, it goes after you accomplish, or even skip something you think you can over it in another 5 minutes (which you now it won’t take as quick as 5 minutes).

Answering ‘What’s next?’ sometimes bring us to the another question ‘Can I finish it?’ Oh, Yes. But ‘Where’s the finish line, anyway?’

We’re women with stiff-necked head. You lived at somewhere island named Saumlaki with all those sales numbers.  I’m here, blend with city’ smog, work day to night with all shitty strategic evaluation. Thank God. We both survive. It may because our brilliant brain, or wonderful experiences from captious supervisor. But we know, “if you can fake that, you’ve got it made!”

Now, it’s 24 for you. And I’m getting there also. But, is it appropriate to us to questioning the finish line. We’re just crawled ten centimeters from the start line. And yes, sometimes we’re drained.  But, hey you know why we lead our self into this journey, right?

Sooner or later, uncertainty and anxiety is coming closer to us. People will be questioning our decisions. Even person who helps you to build the word ‘strongest’ on “even the strongest shouldn’t be alone” will. You’ll build your own self-judicial, and the options are only ‘to tell’ or ‘not to tell’. Or, you can just say.. “Ok. Now, what’s next?”.

And if you realized, this writing is a loopy-mumbling. Yes, as loopy as how our decisions spin our life. Can we handle that?

 Happy (belated) Birthday, Bitch! *

Be merry and long-live the bitchiness!

[nitnitha]

Lately, I realized why I can't hide my sharp tongue to people who waste my patience away with their stupidity. It's because I will get a very bad headache, if I don't get it clear. I won't have a good sleep, if I keep all the fucking bad emotion and problem on my own. For some circumstances, apology may work, well. But, what is a wrecking board for a hammer? In the end, everyone will learn something, even by swallowing an ugly truth.

[nitnitha]

Yang (mungkin) Belum Sempat Kita Obrolkan Ketika Kita Mengobrol di Pasar Santa

Saya masih berkutat dengan pekerjaan saya di kantor, ketika Andre memberi tahu saya kalau dia baru saja memposting sebuah tulisan di blog-nya. Pikir saya, "tumben?". Saya pikir tulisan itu adalah tulisan fiksi, karena beberapa waktu belakangan tidak banyak hal baru dan penting-penting amat untuk bisa diperdebatkan ketika kami menghabiskan waktu bersama.

Ternyata, Andre kembali menulis tentang Pasar Santa. Tempat yang sedang giat diekspos oleh beberapa media dan menjadi perbincangan kaum muda di Ibukota. Tidak ketinggalan, beberapa waktu sebelumnya Andre sempat menuturkan pengalaman kami ketika menghabiskan weekend di Pasar Santa, yang berakhir dengan decak kagum atas kreatifitas, gelombang hipster-yang-kekinian dan kaum kelas menengah (seperti kami berdua) yang berbondong-bondong ke Pasar Santa. Namun, setelah beberapa kali mengunjungi Pasar Santa sejak setengah tahun yang lalu--saat pertama kali mengunjungi tempat nge-heitzzz itu--saya merasa pusat keriaan Pasar Santa hanya berkutat di kios-kios lantai 2 dan 3. Entah mengapa pedagang-pedagang yang berjualan di lantai bawah masih terlihat begitu-begitu saja.

Di lantai dasar, saya masih bisa membeli seplastik karet rambut seharga Rp 3.000,-. Harga barang lain juga masih sama, seperti ketika saya dan Andre membeli rokok dan minum kopi seduhan instan di kios dekat tangga parkiran belakang. Sedangkan dalam beberapa bulan terakhir, makanan yang biasa saya santap dari kios yang terletak di lantai atas sudah membumbung dari Rp 15.000,- menjadi Rp 22.000,-. Entah bagaimana dengan barang yang lainnya (yang menurut saya beberapa sudah overpriced sejak awal). Mungkin perbandingan barang yang kami konsumsi tersebut kurang apple-to-apple, tapi jika menilik pergerakan transaksi pasar... kami semakin yakin kalau lambat laun akan muncul ketimpangan didalamnya. Semut-semut muda yang didaulat sebagai generasi kreatif hanya mengerubungi gula-gula manis yang bertengger cantik di petak-petak urban-pop atau vintage nuance yang tersebar di lantai 2 dan 3 Pasar Santa.

Jika dalam 5 bulan saja kenaikan harga bisa mencapai 50%, ditambah dengan ekspos yang masih menggiring banyak pengunjung setiap minggunya, bagaimana pemilik modal tidak tergoda untuk berlomba-lomba nampang dengan bisnis masing-masing di Pasar Santa? Alhasil, biaya sewa kios juga meroket tak kira-kira sejalan dengan permintaan yang melonjak. Banyak pemilik modal harus antri untuk menyewa 1 atau 2 petak kios demi menjajakan barang atau jasanya di Pasar Santa. Onde mande! 

Lantas, bagaimana nasib pedagang pasar yang tidak bisa memenuhi biaya sewa yang meroket ini? Apa mereka mesti tergilas sedemikian rupa supaya para pemilik modal yang lebih berduit dapat segera mengambil alih kios-kios yang disewa pedagang lama?

Untungnya, beberapa pihak sudah melayangkan petisi online untuk mendukung para pedagang Pasar Santa yang terancam 'digusur' ini. Kaum-kaum penenteng smartphone atau tablet dengan akses internet unlimite seperti kita, tentu bisa dengan leluasa untuk mengklik link dan 'menandatangani' petisi online itu disini. Tapi, secara personal.. apakah cukup apabila misi penyelamatan ini berakhir hanya dengan tanda tangan online atau kicauan di Twitter atas nama menghimpun dukungan?

Sayangnya, saya tidak sekreatif para penjaja di Pasar Santa yang secara komunal bisa menarik banyak orang untuk berduyun-duyun mengunjungi tempat tersebut hampir setiap minggu, sampai didaulat sebagai trending hang-out place di berbagai media. Apalagi untuk merumuskan trik-trik jitu supaya orang lain bisa ikut mendukung misi penyelamatan ini. Mentok di ingatan saya sewaktu belajar Public Relation di perkuliahan, bahwa sebuah kampanye yang meledak di media sosial tidak akan serta merta berhasil tanpa aksi yang nyata (alias grass-root). 

                      So, go beyond clicking share? Uh, really?

Contohnya, salah satu kampanye yang berhasil mendesak pemerintah UK untuk membatalkan rencana menjual Forest of Dean, sebuah area yang menjadi salah satu warisan budaya yang dilestarikan di daerah Gloucestershire. Kampanye ini menjadi menarik ketika ribuan pendukung tidak hanya sekedar mengisi petisi online dan meworo-worokan kasus ini di media sosial, tapi juga mendonasikan uangnya untuk aksi 'pay for ads' alias membeli kolom di media nasional untuk menghimpun dukungan yang lebih besar dalam menolak kebijakan pemerintah.

                                Campaign for 'Forest of Dean'

Dengan sikap media yang cenderung masih 'latah' di Indonesia, mungkin kita belum perlu repot-repot membeli kolom di media cetak atau media massa lainya untuk menyoroti kasus ini dan menghimpun dukungan publik. Tapi, lebih dari dari itu.. apakah mungkin kaum-kaum muda kelas menengah di kota ini mau ikut bergerak semisal metode 'patungan' Forest of Dean diadaptasi untuk membantu pedagang Pasar Santa, disaat manajemen Koperasi Pedagang Pasar Santa masih terlalu linglung untuk diandalkan dalam membentuk simbiosis mutualisme diantara sesama pedagang sebagai solusi jangka pendek atas ketimpangan yang terjadi? Misalnya, dengan membantu pedagang yang sudah terhimpit diantara biaya sewa kios yang terlalu tinggi dan tenggat waktu pembayaran yang terlalu dekat. Kalaupun hal tersebut benar-benar dilakukan.. semoga solusi ini tidak berakhir dengan sentimen negatif dari para pemilik modal yang menanggap para penjaja yang 'terselamatkan' ini sebagai kaum yang berjuang atas nama belas kasihan.

[nitnitha]

All we need is set ourselves tight, once we look back.

For longing, for losing.

[nitnitha]

Letter for The Sixth

Dear A,

We can not go back to yesterday, to the day before it or anytime which have just been passed. To the time when I was only someone else for you and you were one of those people whom my eyes used to see. But, isn’t it true that some of memories are worth as inconceivable memento? It is for us to see that year by year we struggle to know each other, burden each of chances to be close, and beaten by our own desire that we miss every little thing we could have had. We let go, we change, but we stay the same. We grow, and realize that we need to listen, that it’s time to go home. And promise to ourselves, that we will be there.

I saw you in flawless dream that you can never imagine. That we were at the end of those days when the skies embrace our hope to be side by side, and beyond the sea of clouds lies eternity. In the other day, we were holding each other. It was us who weakened by unbearable pain and insecurities. We chained together, as we were too afraid to understand that disappointments are just seeds of care and forgiveness. To bend all the imperfectness to be a little rock for kids to play and kick it from their path when back to home.

I never have any idea of why we are meant to be like nowadays. What would happen if we just admit all these feelings since the first time we abandoned each other? What would it be if we decide to be honest from the beginning? Maybe we will live with bass guitar and flute, do inebriate music upon the relationship like what Sean Lennon and Charlotte Kemp do, but without the nudity, since our thigh and tummy will only become a disturbance. We will have a series of arguing moment about our writings and how to keep the toilet seat clean after pees. We will sleep together as monkeys and the blanket will be the banana. You will buy cheap red wine regularly just to celebrate something that I couldn’t rationalize, and you will be the one who drink it because I have my antihistamines. We will gain more and more weight as it becomes our motive to buy new t-shirts with the name of our favorite bands. And maybe, the number of your recorded lullabies on my phone that I often repeat will be multiplied significantly.

Let’s remark this year as our gratitude. That we have passed six years of cycling as stranger, friend, adversary, dumb and dumber, even lover. Because, if love makes the world go round, thus whatever leads you to west and I to east, the path will cross again.

And before we go further, let me remind you that love is indomitable. You will find yourself coped by tiresome over and over because you’re too much on sacrificing yourself… just to make me happy. Unfortunately, you enjoy it much, and you will be more ridiculous than me. We will have series of fight and I will be the one who clearly say ‘enough’ and asking my turn to make you happy upon my own efforts. Just let me win if we have that kind of fights, okay? And, let me rub your sweaty nose (even if it’s for every ten minutes). To make it equal: yes, you can blame me upon your great tummy.

P.s: You didn’t expect this writing would be romantic, did you?

[nitnitha]

#23abouther

Actually, I don’t want to write anything before Andre update his blog as our birthday ritual. But, let’s pretend that he has already written his thought up in the air. And, I think this would be so unfair for people who already posted me #23abouther as their surprise-gift.

I don’t care about my birthday, really. In fact, I always confuse when someone ask, “When is your birthday?” Because since my age was 0 until 12 years old, what I believed and what my parents always told me is “You were born on 29 September". It stayed on my head until I had to collect my birth certificate to my teacher before elementary school graduation. That was the very first time I read my birthday certificate and I found that my birthday was stated on 28 September. Whoopsie!

The little Nitha came to Papa and protested “There’s typo on the date column on my birth certificate. It should be written 29 September instead of 28 September, rite?”. Papa just calmly nodded, and showing ‘Oke, let me tell you something, my daughter’ face. So, He told me that I was born on 28 September around 11.45 p.m. “It was so close to 29 September. Aside, Javanese people said that if you were born after maghrib time, means you were born in the day after. But, I couldn’t remember the detail and why.  So, it must be 29 September!”

Weird, no? Yes, please do a long siiiiiigh. But, let’s see the good side: my father just did what he believed. It’s like having hippie father, but that’s mostly how I live my life.

After that moment, my family and I agreed that we have to remember my birth-date as it stated on the birth certificate. But still, my family is often celebrates my birthday on 29 September. Whatever.

  So, I turned to be 23. What the number is for? It's just a matter of nothing, I thought.

But then, my superb friends just made it more meaningful. They composed 23 facts about me on their blog as presents.

  Started with Shofi. Damn, this girl just never missed out something from me, ya? My first thought was, “Aje gile. Reveal aja semua-muanya. Reveal! Tambahin! *berasa ditelanjangin* Tapi, facts tentang lo lebih banyak, Shof. Liat aje ntar gentian gue yang reveal satu-satu. Muahahaha *evil smirk*. But, I’m totally agree about fact number #13. Sky-gazing moment is my favorite, too. It’s like “Goddammiiit, kapan lagi bisa sesenggukan nahan nangis menye karena sok-sok berkontemplasi di atas genteng sambil berisikin tetangganya Shofi?” Ah, those moments.

Then, goes to Pandu. For the fact number #6, I was like “kok inget aja sih, Ndu? -___-‘” But for sure, He’s just incomparable. He is one of the selo-est friends I have. It’s just usual to lay down to his bed and mumbling, laughing, rolling over, etc while I have to wait for He and Efan, Tatang, Megan, Derry, Hawwin talk about random things that distract us from our college group task. Yes, I am the only female member.

But talking about gender personality, as Pandu called me ‘Banci yang Sempurna’ (find out here for the reason), Megan always said, “Kamu itu tumbuhan”. I’m never described as female. For them, I am just a little plant who lives inside tiny pot, and has tiny feet to walk, laugh a lot but in silence (since I can’t even breath well while laughing), hang out with them, etc. I accept it, as I also confuse to determine my personality since I spent most of my college life with those guys.

However, despite of his straight-and-sharp act and thought, I was nothing without Megan. I remember in the early year of college, He couldn’t drive me back to my kontrakan because he need to pick up his brother. Then, I walked… and get lost. Almost 1.5 hours to reach the door, in fact it’s only 15 minutes to walk from campus to my kontrakan. Then, He is the very first person who taught me about real cardinal directions “Itu lho, liat aja Gunung Merapi itu selalu di Utara.” Since then, GPS and Google Maps were just…

“Meg, kalau ke daerah situ lewat mana ya?”

“Halah, kaya mudeng aja kalau dijelasin. Tak anter aja.”

  Thanks to dhimbay. I think he’s the only one who accept me as ‘good person’ while others wrote down Medusa stuff and my tricky romance experiences. Huh! One of the weirdest experiences about him happened when we held KKN programs in Belitung. Since the house where we lived was old and spooky, and ulala~ he has that ‘ghost eyes’ stuff. One night, in the early days of KKN, I dreamed a woman (whom apparently has same look with woman on the picture that we found in the store room) came to me and looking for him to move-back a cabin inside the house, which he moved a day before)

Also, thank you for all who deliver best wishes, for you all who have done any sweet and good thing on my birthday. Akber Jogja volunteers for the endless chat on Whatsapp group. For the superb-work team, my second family in Jakarta.. The cute pink cake with choco-mint flavor and pop candy inside was really.. really good.

                                                   You guys are such blessings from heaven!

[nitnitha]

Damn, I'm a Researcher!

Finally, I’m back to town, after 12 days had field work in Malang and Sidoarjo district. I was with my colleague and other three researchers, whom flied from London to East Java, as we became partner in this project. They are university researchers of a research and post graduate university from UK (they are such The Gods of public health campaign in this universe, fyi). We got same research-brief from our client, hence we collaborate. We had a bunch of in depth interviews and observation everyday. I had to be moderator and simultaneous translator at the same time. You know, it's like you have to think the question, ask in Bahasa Indonesia, interpreting the answer (sometimes also probing), then translate it into English, plus extra translating from English to Bahasa Indonesia when your partner have never ending questions about your respondent's answers. And, it's repeated, up until we got everything clear. New method and stimulus came every day. Plus, long-long hours debrief in the night after we finished daily field work. Work from 8 a.m to 11 p.m (mostly, more), Monday to Sunday without weekend. At first, I thought that I’m no longer a human. But, I’m a qualitative researcher: that requires human’s ability to thinking and sensing. I got paid from collecting data (rationally and emotionally), analyzing and consulting people about what they have done with their business and work. So, I think it’d be better to keep pretending that I’m a human.

                                    (Yes, we have a lot of jokes)

    “Are you sure about this job?”

Well, that question never crossed on my mind, before. (Another question: Why I have to?) But, somehow people who see my struggle to get through over daily extra hours-working time and stuffs, not only along 12 days field working, but since the beginning I’m hired. Surprisingly, they started to ask the question. In fact, my boss – and also mentor in office have to ask it again and again.

The thing is: I love to let people know what I love, what I want, what I need. I am a very straight person (in talk and sex). So, it was a funny question for me. Didn’t they see? Or, Didn’t I clear enough to show them? People keep questioning. Thus, I start try to ask that question to myself.

Yes, I want to be researcher, back then. I love to find out new things and how people understand something, popping their needs, and tied to their beliefs. But however I had no big tendency to apply this job. I just passed this test, those interviews, bunch assessment and voila… I’m hired.

Once, I got collapsed in my office (yes, I did). Everybody noticed my recklessness and weakness, but everyone accepts it as common thing. What, common? Yea, what did you expect when your big boss always remind you ‘this industry is very-very tough!’. (No one can be blamed, He just wants to serve a reality). Then, I got depressed when I weak. Not that I can’t stand upon the work pressure, but I feel like I failed, to fulfill my learning target. I can triple-even seven times checking my work just to make sure that I did everything, well. I say “workaholic is bad”, but that’s I am nowadays. I say, “perfectionist-maniac is worse”, but it’s very close to me. My boyfriend somehow just lost his mind to accept how I really tied to this job. My mother worries about my health, but nothing she can do than let me do what I've chosen.

Today, I am in compensatory leave. Try to relieve all the tiring experiences from the latest field work and also preparing my mental to write the report. I write this post. I try to re-call and I found that I have many little dreams that always popping in my mind, spontaneously. I’m crawling, to catch them one by one. I struggle a lot, but it’s what I have to pay to make it worth.

In senior high school, I had part time job as announcer. Who ever predicted that 3 years learning announcing-skill will help me to support my moderating skill while having FGD (Focus Group Discussion) or in-depth interview session?

I took strategic communication major which triggered me to learn communication, marketing and psychology (at first, I thought that it’s ridiculous, even though I love to learn the theories). But, who ever imagined that 4 years became lecturing-slave and drowning over multiple take home tests will help me a lot to analyzing and compose research report?

I love to have grocery-time. A lot. Even for dating. I can spent more than two hours just to see any brand and products in every grocery racks, questioning why people choose brand A than B. Questioning why people tend to spend more money on silly things. Who ever mentioned that I will be marketing researcher, now?

Since couple years ago, I am very interested with pregnancy and gender issue. I took thesis on gentle birth campaign. If you ask me about labor and breastfeeding, well, more-or-less I can explain you the details. I dream to publish international research-findings about it, and who ever believed that I am on half way to finish it?

  Damn, I am a researcher!

But, well, I am in love (and hate relationship) with this job.

[nitnitha]

Au Revoir, Bitch!

Dear, Gita Meina Amalia..

My first question will be.. “So, How?”

How it feels like? Standing near Departure gate among your beloved ones. In the middle of the crowd, you’re there. They numbered every minutes before you go, apart. And, your eyes are getting reddish as it burst into tears. (Yea, let me admit that I am not such a good friend since I choose to stay sitting inside my office’s cubicle, reaching out the deadline than deliver you a farewell hug this morning. But, you understand lowest-layer workers like us are often having cliche dilemma about work and life, rite? And, still I bet you cried..)

            So, now you’re sailing away.

You’ll see a new sea.

A big wave may challenge your brave.

And you’ll be sinkin’, like a shark without fin.

You tear your hope down there,

then you questioning why life can be so unfair.

But, don’t you know?

When you go down beneath the coral, you’ll find sea-floral.

So, please set yourself to swim freely,

as those people who keep their missing feeling just to let you run to destiny.

             Sadly, time passes so fucking fast. Remember the time we smiling over to those silly stuffs? Being such innocent but bastard girls who play over those guys’ feeling? Have serious-but-nostalgic debate over competition briefs? We used to seek those damn-justifications upon our self-persistent egoism, and as a stiff-necked person we just walk people off their feet. Yes, we’re that ‘innocent’.

But, sometimes we also become that kind of people. Who lost our way, stormed out and saying ‘Yaudahlah ya..” Hilarious. We’ve changed but we’re still the same. But, we know we’re cool, rite?

As I always remind myself that “even the strongest shouldn’t be alone”, so please be sure, too.  That, Home is as near as you believe that our love and best-hope to you will never fade away.

Au revoir, Bitch! *hugs*

Sincerely,

Your reckless-dominant bitch, Kunyit.

[nitnitha]

Happy #58 Birthday, Dad!

Haee Papah~ Selamat ulang tahun yang ke 58!

Lama-lama, makin banyak alasan buat kangen dan makin banyak pertanyaan yang lalu-lalang dipikiran setelah Papah jalan-jalan kesana. Nitha dan Papah mungkin enggak dekat secara verbal, tapi jauh dibalik itu, sebenernya kita berdua itu kaya lagi ngaca, ya? Bahkan sampai sekarang.

Masih sering nangis sih, kalau inget Papah, ya gimana..namanya juga kangen. Anehnya, walaupun hidung sering mampet karena nangis berjam-jam sambil meluk tissue di atas kasur, yang ada malah bahagia. Bahagia sekaligus lucu, soalnya anak perempuan Papah yang udah ‘gerang’ ini masih bisa aja kaya anak kecil yang sedih karena tersesat di kerumunan dan pengen cepet-cepet Papah dateng buat jemput pulang. Terus kalau udah ketemu, diomelin bentar ‘kenapa kok bisa tersesat?’. Tapi, mau enggak mau si kecil ini harus jalan pulang sendiri. Enggak ada Papah yang nunggu di gerbang dan siap antar pulang ke rumah kaya biasanya. (Sekarang ada Andre yang suka nganter-jemput juga sih, kadang suka pake bawel juga. Tapi, lebih nurut dari Papah kalau disuruh ngancingin Jaket. 1-0!)

Masih ingat banget rasanya jadi ‘precil’, kurus dan lari-lari pake rok merah tua sebatas lutut waktu SD. Jam 1 siang lebih beberapa menit, lari ke arah Papah yang nunggu anaknya pulang sekolah sambil duduk-duduk di warung kecil di depan SD. Enggak peduli batuk dan pilek, tanpa ba-bi-bu nyeruput es teh pesanan Papah. Selalu. Kadang suka dinasehati biar enggak ngeyel minum es pas lagi pilek, tapi tetep aja dibolehin minum. Hehe. (Oke, buat ini skor jadi 1:1) Bahkan kadang tanpa diminta, Papah mesenin 1 gelas khusus buat Nitha minum setelah pulang sekolah. Terus Papah nanya-nanya soal nilai mencongak di kelas atau bahan ulangan buat besok.

Kurang lebih sepertiga hidup Papah habiskan dengan jadi seorang domestic father. Bertukar peran dengan Mama yang akhirnya jadi pencari nafkah utama. Beruntung, tanpa perlu susah payah ngelahap jurnal tentang gender atau feminisme, akhirnya bisa ngerti tentang ‘equality’ dari kalian. Tentang gimana kalian bernegosiasi tentang peran dalam rumah tangga.

Papah kan China-Katholik, Mamah sendiri Jawa-Muslim. Sebagai anak, sejak kecil enggak pernah sekalipun kepikiran kalau lahir dan tumbuh bersama dalam perbedaan sebagai hal yang aneh. Hebatnya lagi, kalian berdua juga ngasih kesempatan yang sama untuk kami, anak-anaknya untuk milih dan ngejalanin keyakinan sebagai umat Kristen. This is what makes me so grateful!  Sampai suatu hari, Nitha sadar bahwa banyak orang yang masih terlalu sempit untuk menerima perbedaan dalam keluarga kita. Tapi, ngapain kita ambil pusing soal mereka?

Begitu banyak hal yang lewat, sampai telat sadar bahwa Papah sebagai satu-satunya laki-laki di rumah, punya peran dan manajemen emosi yang unik dalam menghadapi 3 perempuan ‘ngeyelan’. Kalau bakal tahu waktu kita enggak banyak, pengen banget tanya kenapa Papah mau jadi suami? Kenapa juga mau jadi Ayah? Pertanyaan bodoh, tapi pengen tahu aja.

Emang jadi ‘suami’ itu sebenernya jadi kaya gimana, sih? Harus ngapain aja? Terus, jadi Papah juga? Terus, jadi Kakek..

P.s:

Entis udah 1 tahun, Pah. Belom bisa jalan. Giginya juga belom ada. Tapi, udah ceriwis kaya Mamah.

[nitnitha]

“This city is a ribcage. You’re the heart.”

Malam itu aku melihat perempuan yang menangis, dengan kesedihan yang menganga di bola matanya. Duduk, menunduk dan tersengal-sengal. Ia mati karam dalam badai. Bersama mata yang basah, yang telah berhari-hari tak kunjung selesai ia lumpuhkan.

Dikumpulkannya sedikit demi sedikit udara dan dimasukannya ke dalam hidung. Melalui bibirnya, ia menghembuskannya, dalam. Hampanya masih disana. Menggumpal, tak bisa diterawang, namun ada.

Ia duduk di tepi tempat tidur. Membungkuk, tetes-tetes air matanya meluncur bebas ke lantai. Aku berjalan mendekati. Kepalanya kini berjarak tak seberapa dengan pinggangku.

“Don’t.. hug me!”, pekiknya. Aku menoleh ke kanan dan kiri. Tidak ada siapa-siapa selain aku disekeliingnya. Jadi, kuputuskan untuk melangkah mundur.

Ia kemudian berdiri dan berjalan pelan, menegakkan kepalanya di depan kaca. Dilihatnya matanya yang memerah. Rambutnya masih hitam menjuntai panjang.

“I think I lost my weight. This is funny. But, I just lost my appetite.. Maybe I’m just crying too much. I know you don’t like this. I’m sorry.” Ia menunduk lagi, terisak pelan. Ia meremas tissue kumalnya erat-erat.

Rasa-rasanya jika tissue itu berubah menjadi sebuah lengan manusia, yang bisa direngkuh. Yang biasa melingkar di punggungnya setiap malam menjelang tidur. Aku memperhatikan lenganku. “Mana mungkin?” Pikirku, setelah teringat teriakannya barusan.

“Because this is crazy, you know.. You’re no where. Gone.

This is uneasy. This is too fast for me..

Too fast. And, I can’t ask you back.. “

  Lamat-lamat, diam menyelinap kedalam tenggorokannya.

“I know you hear me, now.”

  Ia kembali menghadap kaca. Aku berdiri membelakanginya, namun tak sehelai rambutku pun terpantul di kaca itu. Hanya ada raut wajahnya, tanpa aku didalamnya. Aku tak disana, Ia tak melihatku. Matanya masih merah, juga basah. Punggung tangan sebelah kanannya menyapu ujung hidungnya. Lalu, sebuah erangan kecil, seperti ada yang tertahan didalam dadanya namun tak diinginkannya.

“This city is no longer a ribcage. I lost my heart with you”.

Aku menatap bola mata cokat tua milik si perempuan melalui kaca di depan kami. Bola mata itu mengarah ke sudut kanan.

Sebuah foto tergantung tepat di sebelah kanan kaca. Ada aku disana. Tersenyum sambil memeluk perempuan ini. Kami berdua terlihat dekat.

Tapi, tak ada yang bisa aku ingat tentangnya.

Sepasang mata itu kembali terpejam, dan aku memudar.. perlahan. 

*) "This city is ribcage. You're the heart" adalah sebuah mural yang bisa ditemui di jalanan Vancouver, Canada. 

[nitnitha]

For A

1.

So, this writing started when he asked me whether I’ll write for his birthday or not.  I’ve been thinking about it since couple days before, but I just have no idea, really don’t. Aside, I guess his bromance, Gita Wiryawan must have written something for him , so I choose not to write until the cloud comes up.

As simple as not taking extra hours—because he really hates it, that I am absorbed by work too much—I decided to accompany him waiting the day to change. Silly us, we just couldn’t resist our sleepy head. When I asked him to go home, he just said, “Noooo, I don’t wanna have birthday inside Taxy.’ Waiting seemed like forever until I kiss him on the cheek and whisper ‘Happy Birthday’.

2.

Capturing our journey to be ‘us’ is a hard thing for me, since I am a forgetful person. People can check each of our old blog-posts and we’re sorry if we seemed like a desperado man and bitter woman who pretend.. not having unfinished-heart business. But, yeah, every soap-opera has pathetic story, please mock us as we deserve it.

But, how does it feel? To be together?

It’s like sitting in front of fireplace in a Christmas Night. Warm and quiet.

I love to keep him on my eyes, listen to his laugh—sometimes his mumbling, save it in my mind, and repeat it everytime I want to ignore the world.  No sentences could carry, as we keep the light for us only.

3.

It’s incredibly odd—but funny, though people see him as genious, cool, and whatever’s good on him, he has ultra ‘cheesy’ side unbeknownst to others.

Other night, we’re inside the cab heading home, and he told me the night when we go to cinema together.  We watched the last-scheduled ‘Cloud Atlas’ which suprisingly had longer duration than other usual movie. I was so sleepy until my head suddenly lean on his arm (actually I don’t remember clearly about this) for the first time, he told me how happy he was and then asking.. “Aku norak ya?”. I calmly nodded.

He is very melancholic, but also very caring. He’s ever nurtured a little spider as a pet until his mom killed it with pest-spray. And, many little creatures which haven’t revealed yet.

Back then, he and I were a lone wolf, he said. We have different way to compromise and solve the problem. We keep all insecurities and deal with it individually. About how he really concern about my health and neglect his own. About me who always learn to convince him not to stick into his vulnerability. This makes me think that being a lover would never be enough.

Now, he’s in a runway. To dream which unfortunately, he’s still searching for the faith.

4.

    Happy Birthday, Charlie Brown. Find me next to you. :)

[explore-blog]

Bob Dylan (b. May 24, 1941) on sacrifice, success, and the unconscious mind in a fantastic 1991 interview

[nitnitha]

Halo, Pah!

Halo, Pah!

Gimana jalan-jalannya? Udah keliling kemana aja?

Kata Mama, kemarin kijing udah dipasang ya? Tinggal bong pai-nya aja yang belom. Kemarin Nitha yang milih warnanya, warna abu-abu tua, gitu. Tulisan di bong pai yang bikin Nitha juga. Nitha nyisipin nama Cina nya Papa buat ditatah di bong pai, tapi enggak tau akhirnya ditatah sekalian apa enggak. Kayanya sih tetep ditatah. Pokoknya simple kok, enggak heboh banget. Cuma kata Mama bong pai-nya mau dikasih batu salib apa, gitu. Ga tau juga. Kemarin Nitha harus cepet pindah ke Jakarta, jadi belom sempet nengok makam. Semoga besok pas Nitha pulang Solo, semuanya udah beres ya.

Ini Nitha baru seminggu kerja di Jakarta, di daerah Karet Kuningan. Nitha jadi peneliti gitu. Neliti buat bisnis. Jadi salah satu contohnya, kalau ada pengusaha mau bikin produk baru, mereka bikin riset dulu biar produk barunya oke. Nah, risetnya itu Nitha yang bantu bikin. Masih junior level, sih. Dan seminggu pertama udah lembur karena banyak yang harus dipelajarin.  Tapi, asik kok kerjaannya. Emang Nitha suka kerja yang kaya gini. Orang-orangnya juga baik dan enak diajak kerja, kok.

Enggak usah khawatir. Nitha pulang lemburnya tetep hati-hati kok. Makan juga teratur biar enggak gampang sakit. Sejauh ini kalau lembur, sampe jam setengah 9 malem, masuknya jam setengah 9 pagi. Berangkat-pulang kantor jalan kaki, soalnya kostnya Nitha deket dari kantor, jadi enggak nambah ongkos transpot. Lagian, Nitha males bawa motor, Pah. Soalnya di Jakarta rame dan macet. Jadi, kemana-mana naik bus TransJak aja, kalau lagi buru-buru ya ojek kalau enggak taksi. Motor sementara masih di kontrakan di Jogja, ada temen kontrakan yang ngerawat, kok. Tenang aja.

Kalau sabtu-minggu Libur, Nitha jalan-jalan gitu. Cari makanan enak biar enggak bosen di kostan terus. Biasanya sama Andre. Itu lho yang kapan hari tengah malem ke makamnya Papa. Tapi, kadang pergi, naek mobil sama Mas Har, Mba Dhani, Mylo sama Golden.

Besok mau turun project pertama kali, Pah. Itungannya cepet ini, baru seminggu kerja udah dibolehin bantu ngurus project langsung. Puji Tuhan kalau emang Nitha dipercaya dan bagus kerjanya. Doain semua lancar ya, Pah.

Papa diseneng-senengin jalan-jalannya, ya. Kita semua disini baik-baik aja, kok.

[nitnitha]

Berai

Masih seperti hari-hari sebelumnya, aku berkawan akrab dengan awan pengucur hujan. Yang darinya, aku mengartikan hujan sebagai bentuk cinta yang bersahut-sahutan. Mendapati langit dan bumi bersisihan, namun saling berbalas harapan.

Lihat saja lautan yang ditenteramkan oleh matahari. Dari sana, uap-uap pembentuk hujan membumbung, lalu berkumpul menghampiri awan. Tak lama, langit menggenapi rindunya dengan rintik air.

Bagimu, hujan merupakan formula alami yang mencanduimu untuk bermelankolia. Sejauh apapun bumi merapatkan dirinya ke inti, ia akan basah bahkan larut dalam hujam tangis langit. Ilalang-ilalang yang berdiri lantang akan menunduk takluk mendengar langit bergemuruh. Tersapu angin yang mendingin.

"Kau tak pernah baca firman Tuhan?”, tanyamu. “Dia sendiri yang memisahkan samudera raya, ini dan itu, hingga jadilah cakrawala!". Kau percaya bahwa langit adalah bentuk abadi dari perpisahan, bahkan sebelum manusia diciptakan. Darinya, hujan ditumpahkan sebagai perayaan kesedihan.

Kau menghela nafas, memandangi muara kecil diseberang kita. Matamu sesekali menyipit, berusaha mengamati burung-burung kecil yang terbang berputar-putar. "Mereka mau kemana, sih?", tanyamu polos. Lucu sekali caramu mengecohkan aku dari sepasang mata yang tertimbun penat. Milikmu.

"Mungkin mereka sedang bingung menentukan arah pulang.", jawabku singkat.

Lalu kita berdebat tentang kisah-kisah lainnya. Tentang masa dimana daun-daun akhirnya memilih untuk menghabisi rindunya dan tergeletak jatuh, bersemayam di kulit bumi. Sesaat sebelum mereka terhempas, semesta akan membisikan langgam perpisahan, berupa desir angin musim dan kepak-kepak rampak milik capung penjaga muara. Beradu debu, bergulat liat. Besama dedaunan itu, tanah menjadi peraduan sendu.

Sekali-kali aku ingin tinggal di sudut matamu. Disana aku bisa mengerahkan seluruh tenaga untuk tak menjadikanmu serupa langit yang mengumpulkan kesedihannya dibalik awan. Aku akan memeluk setiap tetes air yang kau simpan di sudut matamu agar tak jatuh dan kau merapuh. Sehingga, tak perlu kau tersengal-sengal kepayahan melahirkan hujan mu sendiri.

Kali ini, aku membawakanmu sepotong sore. Perlahan, pijar oranye itu menuruni satu persatu anak tangga awan, lalu bersembunyi dibawah tudung dedaunan.

"Langit senja itu pahit", tolakmu. Keras kepala.

Masih seperti hari-hari sebelumnya, aku berkawan akrab dengan sepasang awan dibalik kelopak matamu. Cakrawala ku tidak begitu jauh, ia hanya sehamparan saja. Tapi, belum pernah kudengar ia menyahut rinduku. Mungkin, firman Tuhan memang benar.

Aku berdiri dan membalikan badan. Melangkah gontai menapaki papan-papan kayu jembatan tua. Rayakan saja perpisahan ini. Semaumu.