#RANDOM / / / Someday Somewhere Nowhere

Wednesday, 18 July 2018

I've never been so lost, at a point I can't recognize when or even where I have been. It is like a compass is stuck inside your head, that kind of feeling or even courage of not getting lost. They call it a navigation talent, or an ability to read a map. A woman doesn't read a map, but a man does. That is a complete bullshit. I have met people, man or woman, who can and can't read a map. Your sexuality doesn't determine your ability of navigation. But, it is not my point here. Alas!

Traveled for several days, as it to be a self-discovering odyssey, turned out being a complete lost and found. Still fresh in my mind, the feeling of the ocean hit me in the face while I rode a small fisherman boat to pass through the strait. It was salty, itchy, and wobbly feeling you got from encountering the wave. I wanted to puke, at the thought of the hell hole I've had go through, only to discover a deserted island with a shady personality people lives in there. Sad tho, but, who can blame the over-rated destination description from the ah-mazing internet. At least, I've seen the picture of a near-perfection place in this alienated small island.

A completely different feeling washed me. The slumber was short, as short as my stay those days. The morning I encountered there when I was alone, waiting for the dawn to subside and morning to come, I came to a realization. Who am I? I was no-one on this island, no-one in this small world, even if I faked my name or identity, they won't know. Unless they got my ID and it would blow my cover. To that point, I just knew one thing, I was lost, not only in this remote place but also I lost my self in my own self and mind. The other land beyond the horizon was so far I was afraid I can't make it, just like the other side of my mind. It was a loneliness I embraced that very morning. But I never am afraid of being all alone, I am afraid of something else.

Then, it just came to my mind.
What does it feel, for someone who never goes beyond the ocean?

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#RANDOM / / / Forget to Forgive

Thursday, 21 June 2018

Coming home after a faraway odyssey, just like a bird comes back to his nest, is a must, when it comes to Ied Fitri, with holy or unholy intentions. The day when Allah ask a mere man to forgive and ask forgiveness of others, and so, Allah will forgive humanly mistakes. How Allah is so merciful. A man mistakes can be easily forgiven by them asking and prying. And the merciful Allah loves the mere human, so does the man get the mercy. Indeed, not a single man, be so merciful. The seven deadly sin. Wrath, an anger which turns into a grudge, can make a man blinds and merciless to the end of his days. And so does the other Unforgiven.


Every year, I come back to my hometown, watching and seeing tired faces, new faces, many and more, the long-distance families who I never meet except in the holy day. I don't know them, which one is the uncle, which one is the grandfather, I lost my count. After the morning prayer of the holy day, after asking forgiveness from the parents, all of the sons and the daughters, the grandsons and the grand-daughters, come to the main house, tabon, where our grandparents, or even out grand-grandparents lives. We line a long queue, seeking blessing and forgiveness from the elders, one by one, recite the same sentence. Some are even crying, some are bored. Everyone has their holy and unholy purpose that day.

While shaking the hand of my unknown long-distance relatives, I wonder, what am I seeking? What am I looking for? A mere forgiveness from a people I never know before? How strange then, this concept of gathering. We shall celebrate Allah's mercy by giving others mercy. But to who I never know or even converse? My mother and father are angry about my anti-social sudden syndrome they never understand.

Those days, I barely understand. But while I write this, something just comes to my mind. Perhaps, the reason I shall ask the forgiveness and giving my compassion is that I never try to know them, the blood of my blood.

#RANDOM / / / Blur is the New Future

Friday, 11 May 2018

The future blur and full or fear.


Through the conversation at the end of the gelato talking, the question was so innocent, yet the three of us remained in silence for a couple of seconds.

"Do you have a plan for your future? What do you want to achieve in your life?"

He asked her with a very timid voice yet determined to know the answer. He might get lost in his track, and just merely asked her advice. But the question was like a needle, poking her in the spot she didn't want to bother just at that moment. The boy, next to her, was in silent. The girl, next to the one who threw the question, me myself, was also, indeed, in silent.

Seconds tickled and there, I found my self-reflects on what I'd done for a couple of years after the graduation day. Where am I now? Where do I want to go?

"But, you, you seem like you know what you do. Somehow I believe that you know what you want and how to get it." He was pointing at me, with those statements, just before I could recall everything or collect my answers. That was prejudice, but I couldn't deny his remarks. 

It seemed that at that moment [I wish] I knew what I want to do, and indeed, somehow, I believe that I knew what I want to do. The universe converse and I am just merely doing my best to follow my gut and keep walking in the direction of the day after tomorrow. And just like that, my heart recites those words, over and over again, 'till the universe heard it and compromise with me.

"I just want to be happy with everything I do for the living." She said, finally, with uncertainty in her voice. And the boy next to her was deep in thought I wondered what comes to his mind.


But are you happy now?

#ARCHITECTURE / / / Muffled-Crap-Talk

Monday, 7 May 2018

The ongoing project was still in progress, in the time I landed in the town. Miles and days passed without any significant changes, yet, they still didn't know what is the material for the flooring even though I'd sent the patterns & details to the stone factory. What a shame!

Just a couple minutes walk to the nearby previous project, the very same owner wanted to expand the front cafe. I just stood there, gawking at the discussion of the demolition of the old wall and how to strengthen the original structures. A mere stupid discussion. Which suppose to be manageable if I could propose the original renovation at the beginning without any interruption of the idea.

Drawings, the Built, and the Unbuilt
Architects may not be so proud of themselves, just because of the small attentions and publicity to the world reveals what might they've done, the all high and genius idea of a material ensembling done by the dirty-hand workers to create a space or rather a shell where people as the user, inhabit and metamorphose the spirit inside. But, the idea is just an idea, a mind contemplation, nor a material property. When the idea is turned into a drawing to be materialized by the third-party, will it be as perfect as the idea in the architect's mind?

The Moment of Compromise
The construction site is a battle between the idealist Architect, the practical Contractor, and the economic Owner. At the point when the money talks, the idea is nothing, rather than a crumpled paper which only occasionally is being opened by the contractor, yet still, they will really like to improvise unsupervised time to time. In that time, I would rather be silent, point out the so-human-made mistakes and stupid irritating unsmooth homogeneous tile which looks so cheap than its original already-cheap price.

Space and the Spirit inside
When the building was done, and people began occupying the space inside-outside, the dynamic of the spirit of the building changed along the rhythmical activities. People went in and out, uncounted, brought the different vibes, and space grew. The building was just like a shell of crustaceans, it might be anything any-form people called it and acted on it. Just like how the owner wanted to expand the front house business with a new additional coffee shop and bakery.

And just like that, the architects don't have any control after years, of the handed drawings and the built projects, anymore.