On My Writing .. so far

Georgia_McBride : “even if I tried to write trendy…it would still turn out weird. I just can’t do “normal”…whatever that is.”

From #yalitchat on twitter

New Challenges

In all honesty, I hate people. I detest their mood swings and lack of predictability. I hate dealing with them.

Yet, I need to. It’s one of the things I have to deal with for my future. It’s one of the keys of my future. I’ve met people that tell me so and showed me so. So, I believe them.

However, how can I be loyal to the process ? Can’t this — dealing with people — be an easier challenge to face ? Like, a handbook would definitely make a significant difference, with this one.

Where should I start ? How should I do this ?

Hmm .. new seasons seem to be synonymous with new challenges ..

Repose

The suspension of new entries for this blog is the result of the writer’s apprehensive/critical question as such : should Writer be seeking campus authorities for permission to maintain a blog about the campus (activities/people/things)? 

Yep, no matter how lenient some Jakarta citizens may at times be about copyrights, patent laws and the sorts, I do declare to be against unauthorized publications (though, honestly, this might be a difficult cause to nurture, considering the ghastly magnitude of piracy which has spread and developed in this city).

Nonetheless, I will attempt to seek permission… because this is how I respect the rules =D

Meanwhile, please mind the repose. Thanks!

2000 Mangroves

It was on the day’s unravelling of 18 February, 2009, that a new student community in campus, 4C – Climate Change Champions Club, environment-oriented, decided to commence its premiere activity : mangrove trees planting on Muara Angke for the prevention of regional flood.

(descending towards Mangrove paddies)

From campus grounds, committees and volunteers migrated via Mitsubishi buses to the designated area. It was sloppy, richly sticky mud, seawater and craggy rocks we were sizing up to. We were advised to fling away our sandals under the tree…and our inhibitions. I had my scares!

An elderly farmer handed each of us participants 10 sticks of young mangroves. Five on each hand. Some of our chaperones (campus tv producer, PR staff, among few), got theirs, too. We were given the drills of planting.

Black mud ebbed around our feet and calves as we trodded through a water-filled yard. When our backs hunched to tie plants on upright bamboo sticks, mud splotched on our hands and tees as well. We were quick to complete our responsibilities, nonetheless.

(growing mangroves)

There were several media which came to get a coverage of our activity. These guys wore  distinct shirts for identification. Some carried SLR cameras, another brought a video camera. Apparently, they had not been provided plants to sow.

We had a spirit yell – “Mangrove, mangrove, mangrove! Plant a lot of mangroves!” - contrived by a talented peer of mine. We sang it in teams of 10 or so.

When all were done, the committees instructed us to gather back to dry land. We planted one last thing : a declarative signboard stating we have planted 2000 mangroves today, to be part of the solution to global crisis.

It was an invigorating experience : being re-encountered with Nature.  Definitely inspirational, too : seeing my otherwise blasé buddies wringing themselves out for a constructive cause.

I was humbled…

…and so must be Nature.

Blogs from LSPR kids, welcome!

I’m welcoming blogs from students of LSPR, Jakarta, Indonesia. If you own a personal blog about any theme, I would like to have it linked to my blog… for publicity and networking (it’s only mutual). =)

Finals

Finals….

Best results, everyone!

Red and Yellow

Jakarta’s shopping malls clothe themselves in red and yellow. The red symbolizes luck, happiness and the gold insinuates prosperity. These colours are splashed onto mall entrances, their pillars and ceilings.

On the ceilings, Chinese lanterns become eyecatchers in red and yellow on their thin plastic, circular bodies. Numerically, I could not count them in one walkthrough.

Around our neighbourhood, firecrackers explode intermittently. They sound like the pop-pop-pop of bullets propelled by the black powder in rifle guns. They look like green, red and yellow glow worms formatted like cheerleading pom-pons on the black canvas of the sky.

On the radio, Jakarta’s only Chinese radio station, Cakrawala, 98.3FM, plays New Year tunes repetitively, making way for the special festival to come. “Gong xi fa cai!,” the radio announcer exclaims fluently in Mandarin (Chinese).

This city has never been more welcoming.

First Day of School

Several days pre-first day after the mid-term break, I got messages from various telephone numbers from my classmates. They were  unanimous and read something like this :

“Attention students of this class : please wear white tomorrow and don’t forget! Let’s start the year 2009 with something clean and fresh! Forward this message to everyone.”

The class has had Pink Shirt Days, Yellow Shirt Days and Green Shirt Days, but I never showed up with the identically-coloured shirt. There was discomfort on my part to be in unison with my classmates… not so long then.

Since my transfer to this troupe of eclectic individuals – a far swerve from my then more ordinary peers – I have been feeling out of place. It felt like donning a leopard print suit. Skintight. They are the fabric I have to wear and adjust with until graduation. Uncomfortable and, at times, suffocating.

In terms of lifestyle, there are many insignificant splurges and attention over matters I don’t find important. Also, much talking revolves around topics I have grown out of tremendous concern for (cosmetics, boys, sport). I didn’t meet with my niche.

Fourth semester came before this semester. We had two major group projects and 1 for a media competition. They required participation on our side.

That altered many things.

We discussed the tasks and shared our suggestions and perceptions. What I realised was that they have a sack-full of talents and prisms of perception. An array of very good things, apart from my preconceptions. Delightful to discern. Their nonchalance over many important grown-up topics never really did justice to people’s regards of the creativity they possess within.

*** 

We finished the projects commendably : won awards for 2 of them. Perhaps, the confusing tangle of everything could work itself out after all. Perhaps… teamwork and willpower have their own puissance (they work somehow).

The first day of school in white :

I complied.

Photography

I’m supposed to hit the roads to Bandung pre-New Years this week. A campus friend had asked me last week if I want to join him and his posse from Photography Club. I consented, while stifling a rising fervour — it would be a great chance for beautiful photos.

This friend, he’s a part-time photographer. He takes landscape, culture and people pictures with a Canon 1Ds Mark III. I have not seen more of his stock of professional photos, but they must be exciting to inspect!

Here are some of my friend’s visual artworks :

tree branches which look like neuron cells

a mourning female

the photographer

***

Happy New Year, everyone!

What Binds Us

On the fifteenth of December, 2008, I got a surprise chat-box greeting from Y, an old friend. The little, white square on facebook popped up on my computer screen, along with her name.

The greeting was something like this :

“Maargareettt…

Hi…

Do you still remember me..?

Hehe…”

Yes, I still have memories of her in my mind. We were still with our blue skirts and ties when we hung out together. Freshmen of highschool. I was a shy yet rebellious teen. Me and my thick, black bangs and thick school soles. She was more sociable and meek. She wore dainty, silver bracelets and has a smooth, milky skin. 

We met in the middle by our love of sarcasm. We belittled teachers and their dandruffs; middle school kids and their twig-like stiffness; and lame school programs.  Numerous lunch breaks were spent together to think up devious phrases which enrage the underdogs – if they hear it. She showed contempt towards my taste in boys. I jeered the pansy male singers in her Asian magazines.

After highschool, we diverged. She went elsewhere, I enrolled for Mass Communications. Her memory sank absentmindedly in my mind.

Now, we met again. Online. We shared news about the fragments of our lives since highschool graduation. Where are you now? What campus major are you taking? Why did you took it? She exerted an exuberant lingo while I remained calm. Then, she invited me out this weekend.

I didn’t know what to make of it. We are not who we were. I don’t think it’s easy to sync ourselves again. We have unsimilar interests. My taste for sarcasm has dissipated with time. Nothing corresponds except the past. If I were to accept her invitation of a day out and socialize myself with her, what purpose will bind our friendship? I come up with nothing.