Describing My Feelings in NSM

"I wanted something good to happen to me
I know now: this thing will not happen to me
I feel bad because of this"

note: NSM (Natural Semantic Metalanguage) is developed by Anna Wierzbicka.

Alasan Saya Ingin Menjadi Penulis

Jika dihadapkan pada pertanyaan ini, saya dapat memberikan jawaban yang berbeda-beda, tergantung pada niat saya ketika membuat sebuah karya. akan tetapi, bila ditarik sampai ke akar, saya dapat menjawab demikian: saya ingin memuaskan imajinasi saya.

Sejak kecil, saya suka berimajinasi, bila saja saya masuk ke dalam "dunia" yang telah disuguhkan oleh orang lain. Beberapa contohnya adalah "dunia" dalam komik Doraemon dan film Power Rangers. Setelah saya mulai suka membaca (novel), saya menemukan bahwa ternyata cerita dalam bentuk tulisan pun juga menarik. Saya mulai berimajinasi lagi dan membuat cerita atau, dengan kata lain, menuangkan imajinasi saya ke dalam bentuk yang sama--tulisan. Ternyata, menulis apa yang saya khayalkan memberi kepuasan lebih daripada duduk berkhayal sepanjang hari.

In Memoriam of Asep Sambodja

It was about 100 days ago when I heard the worst news in my life. My undergraduate academic supervisor, Mas Asep Sambodja, had just passed away. I felt nothing back then, for maybe the news wasn't unexpected and, paradoxically, deep in my heart I didn't believe it. Mas Asep had been sick for over one and a half year. He suffered intestines cancer--an inheritance from his days as a journalist (that's why I WON'T be a journalist EVER). I also had heard that a doctor had said there had been no hope for him, that he had been only biding his time.

But for a while in 2009, he had recovered from his illness. He had had a difficult surgery in Jakarta, but he had survived. He had regained some weight and had gone to the university again, finishing his research--of which I helped him translating into English. Thus, when Mas Asep got very sick again, I always believed that such miracle would happen again, that I would see him again, healthy and full of life. And for the first few days of his death, I still thought that he were just away looking for a cure to his illness in other cities, I still believed that he would come back.



Mas Asep was my lecturer, my teacher, my friend, and the closest person to a father to me. He's the one who was always proud of me, always believed that I could be everything, always thought that I was a terrific writer even though I was sure I was horrible instead. Now I still have to spend three or four years ahead studying in the university, and it's hard for me to think that he wouldn't be around, that I wouldn't be able to tell him about what I'm going to do this semester and the next, that he wouldn't be there to tell me what he's doing for Indonesian literature.

Of all the things I regret having not told him about is thank you, I'm so grateful that you were there. However, the greatest thing about being left by a writer and a poet is I have many pieces of him in form of books, poems, and online notes that I can read whenever I miss him. Even his wife, Mba Yuni, still go online with his Facebook dan Yahoo! account every now and then so I can always pretend that he's still there. But now I know that I have to accept the fact that he's gone and I have to pray for his well-being in the afterlife. And the fact that it's time to say good bye.

If by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master;
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

Cerpen: Hari Terakhir di Apartemen

(Cerpen ini kutulis setelah membaca sebuah berita.)
Sore itu aku pulang dengan semangat menggebu-gebu. Kutinggalkan sopir dan mobil keluarga kami di depan menara ketiga tempat kami menjadi penghuninya di lantai sebelas. Matahari yang mungkin terik tak sempat menyengatku karena penyejuk ruangan langsung menyambutku, meniup-niup poniku yang tipis.

Ditemani petugas keamanan yang sudah hafal wajah setiap anak penghuni apartemen ini, aku menunggu lift turun sambil mengetuk-ngetukkan sepatu ketsku ke marmer yang mengilat. Kutempelkan pipiku kepada dinding yang dilapisi marmer yang sama. Dingin. Aku serap dingin itu, membayangkan segarnya dingin air kolam renang di lantai delapan.