Of Senses and Soul 12/31/2008 03:47:00 AM

lone traveler had a very good point in her comment for "My World, Your World". She pointed out that even though she felt good being with people similar to her, in thoughts and views and all that, she sometimes resented the fact that some people did look like her, dress like her, or talk like her. How paradoxical is that! Well, it does make one wonder, but maybe it's not really paradoxical.

It's a definite fact that all humans, just like every other living being, are preprogrammed. No doubt that this is very upsetting, especially when you're a firm believer of "free will". However, for the sake of this particular argument, let's just drop the philosophical debate and save it for another occasion. So, not only that our program--our genes--defines physical aspects like hair color and such, but it also determines our "behavioral pattern" (I think that's how they call it). It's hardly surprising that humans everywhere are keen on food and sex, even though they might not readily admit it! After all, we, as a species, need food and sex in order to survive. And the survival of our species, my friend, is what our genes are most concerned about.

And it is also a definite fact that humans are weak. That's why we need clothing and housing. We need society too, because without them there's no way we (well, our ancestors) could win against mastodons or bison or sabertooth tigers or other gigantic animals that you care to mention. It's true even to this day: hunters-gatherers go about their business in groups, not individually.

At any rate, it's safer for an individual to be in a large group instead of being alone, survival-wise. Hard to believe as it is, we're still very much governed by this primitive instinct, perpetually imprinted on our genes. That being the case, despite the situation being so much different from that of our ancestor's some millennia ago, humans still find being in the company of people where they can just blend in very comforting.

Humans' obsession with the sense of uniqueness, the reason why being "one amongst the masses" irks us so much, is rooted from something completely different. It comes from the soul, the consciousness, or whatever it is that you call that nonmaterial entity within you. For our soul, the survival of our species is far less important than our existence. It observes itself and its surroundings, categorizes the world into "me" and "others", and asks those existential questions: where I came from, why I am here, where I'm going.

It's important for the soul to recognize that it is different from everybody else because otherwise, its existence is futile. Imagine this: if you're just one of those people, if you're not one of a kind, it means you are not special and thus, replaceable. What's the point of living then, when you exist simply for the purpose of becoming some sort of ecological spare part, so to speak? Most people might not know this, at least not in the conscious level, but I believe that deep down everyone realize it. No wonder humans crave uniqueness.

Writing this piece, it occurred to me that it's unnecessary for me--or everyone else for that matter--to deny these tendencies. All I have to do is embracing them because, really, that's what becoming human is all about.

Notes: Dedicated to lone traveler, in response to her question. It might not suit your taste very much, but it's the best explanation I can offer at this point.

My World, Your World 12/21/2008 01:29:00 AM

Heterogeneity is good, that much I know. Besides, could you imagine a world where everyone dressed alike, talks alike, thinks the same way? It'd be very boring, I believe. I can't think of anything more interesting than learning all kinds of cultures and ways of life--it gives color to our (my) at times mundane lives, don't you think?

That being the case, it really was a paradox when I found out that being with people who were different from me was extremely hard. It took a constant effort that it's tiring. "Different" here might mean differences in culture, interest, worldview, or even generation (well, I've always known that I'm not good at mingling with older people and kids).

Watching and listening to a variety of people as they reveal their uniqueness was an eye-opening experience and I loved it. But when the time came for me to jump in at it, I'd feel uncomfortable and awkward, big time.

It's like this: how can you relate to people when it seems like you have nothing in common? That's non sense, of course, because humans can always find something in common in one another, no matter how dissimilar they are. But what those similarities are, sometimes it's impossible to tell, and you can only scratch your head in frustration.

Like a particular scenario when I was in a place full of foreigners and someone started to tell a joke that made everyone roared with laughter. I smiled sourly; to me it was obscene, to them it was witty. How should I react in this highly uneasy situation?

And do you know what I wanted to do when things went in that direction? I wished I could just get out of this unknown territory and be with my closest people, talking about our hopes and fears, cursing the government for not doing their job well, singing our praises to that new movie, or just having some idle chatter. Does that make me a narrow-minded person? Or yet another proof that I need to improve my terrible social skill?

Picture Perfect 12/14/2008 10:45:00 PM

I’ve long realized that I don’t take a fancy to cameras. Be it photographs taken for official purposes or simply for fun, most of the times I feel less than enthusiastic to pose in front of the camera. I always feel stupid every time I do so, all smiles and stuff. Even when I did willingly participate in all the silly proceedings of photo-taking, it was because I felt like I had to, for somebody else’s benefit or for mine (I certainly didn’t want to be left out), not because I couldn’t help seeing someone take a picture without me in it.

Of course, when people are having such a good time, it’s only normal for them to want a memento of some sort. A reminder of the good ol’ times, so to speak. And for quite a long time, that’s what photographs are all about. They capture the best (and sometimes the worst) of times, showing us a glimpse of reality as it was. And despite my reluctance for having my picture taken, I don’t see anything wrong with that. Besides, pictures can speak more than a thousand words. Or something like that, as they say it.

There were times when photographs were only taken on special occasions like weddings, births of children, and family gatherings. But now, since digital photography has made everything so easy, one can take pictures as many as he wants anytime and anywhere. Gone are the days when people were taking pictures with such care and precision (or else they’re just wasting their films), replaced by sloppiness and redundancy and narcissism of the extreme kind. Gone are the days when people actually dressed up before having their pictures taken; hell, people would gladly strip naked in front of the camera anytime these days, and for free, mind you (plus, they upload their own pictures to their personal website for everyone to enjoy them).

What concerns me is the fact that now, it seems, photographs have become more important than the moments they capture. People are so busy taking pictures and putting on their camera faces than living that precious moment. Or, as GIGI (or was it Slank?) said upon returning from a concert in Japan several years ago, “Everyone was taking pictures with their cameras and handycams that it seemed like they didn’t really pay attention to our performance.” Get what I mean?

TSUBASA RESERVoir CHRONiCLE chapter 197-203 (CLAMP) 11/04/2008 10:19:00 PM

Chapter 197: Two Lives
...in which Syaoran returned from Clow Country badly wounded. Yuuko told him that Sakura would eventually die upon being consumed by the "seal of death". Hearing this, Syaoran asked Yuuko to send him to Clow Country once more so that he could find a way to remove that seal from Sakura. That's a piece of cake for Yuuko, but his price was: a relationship--he could never meet his family and his loved ones from his own world ever again.

Chapter 198: Invisible Mark
...in which Syaoran went back to Clow Country and met the very happy but oblivious Sakura. Sakura took Syaoran to the palace where he met and chatted with the high priestess a.k.a. the queen a.k.a. Sakura's mother. Apparently, apart from Syaoran, the high priestess was the only one who could see the seal of death engraved upon Sakura. Even Sakura herself didn't realize the seal's presence.

Chapter 199:The Power to Survive
...in which several years had passed since Syaoran's first arrival in Clow Country and he had yet found a way to remove that seal, while it's just getting bigger.

Chapter 200: Halted Time
...in which it was Sakura's birthday and coming-of-age ceremony. But the king, queen, and Syaoran were grim because they knew that Sakura was dying. Sure enough, the seal stabbed Sakura inside out, but the queen stopped the flow of time, begging Syaoran to save her daughter. At that moment, Syaoran wished he could go back in time and changed the past. Right then, an eerie voice exclaimed, "I shall grant you that wish."

Chapter 201: The Truth in the Ruins
...in which Syaoran's wish was granted by Fei Wong Reed. However, turning back time was a grave sin because even though Syaoran might be able to change the course of Sakura's future, the futures of all others involved would also be changed in the process, particularly the ones who knew about the seal (the king and queen of Clow). In addition to that, Syaoran would not be able to be by Sakura's side--his freedom would be stolen, his life would be placed in grave danger, and he could do nothing but watch. Syaoran persisted and time's turned back. Syaoran became a child once more, but upon opening his eyes, he saw a black-haired kid his age (young Watanuki Kimihiro of xxxHOLiC). It came as a shock to me, but it seemed that Watanuki was born in order to fill the time that Syaoran had turned back and the "relationship" he had paid as a price for his return journey to Clow. It's kind of answering the statement in previous chapter, about Watanuki being the closest person to Syaoran. Watanuki was certainly Syaoran's closest person, since he was a part of Syaoran.

Chapter 202: Distorted Wish
...in which Fei Wong Reed pointed out that, in order to fulfill his wish, Syaoran had violated a taboo. But thanks to that, now Fei Wong could make his wish--restoring a lost life--come true. Something else came out of Syaoran's wish: the creation of distortion of time and dimension. And, Feing Wong added, since a being (namely Watanuki) was created in answer to such distortion and thus was the representation of that distortion itself he would only bring misfortunes to others around him. According to Fei Wong, as long as Watanuki didn't disappear, neither could the distortion--a statement that Yuuko whole-heartedly disagreed with.

Chapter 203: Those in Darkness
...in which the flashback ended. Syaoran asked whether everyone (Fai, Kurogane, and Mokona) would still want to accompany him to save Sakura, after knowing what he had done. After all, things might turn out differently--Fai might not been born as a twin and Kurogane's parents might not been killed in such tragic ways--if Syaoran hadn't made his wish to turn back time. To Syaoran's surprise, the three of them stated very clearly that they wanted to be by his side despite everything he had done, adding that they would probably do the same were they in his position.

Shigofumi 10/31/2008 10:31:00 PM

Anime portraying dark sides of life isn't really my cup of tea. That being the case, were I to choose an anime amongst many, I would probably not choose Shigofumi. But since my brother had got the anime, it'd be a waste not to watch it and I thought, what the hell, I'll give it a shot.

In the beginning, everything seems pretty sweet, with the typical bright colors and cutesy scenes, one of which is of a boy who wants to confess his love to a girl. Despite the appearance of a mysterious girl (and an equally mysterious talking stick) named Fumika who came to deliver a letter from the girl's dead father to the girl's "boyfriend", nothing looks sinister. It all changes at the end of episode one, when the girl stabbed the boy to death because she suspected that he had found out about her secret.

Shigofumi's first episodes are pretty much independent of each other. Each of them tells a different story and presents different characters with different problems. The only thing(s) they have in common are Fumika and the Shigofumi. Shigofumi are letters from the dead, addressed to the living. Consider them as media on which the dead said their last words to a particular person. In character with the dead's person, the letter could be kind or plain or hateful or apologetic.

Considering that Fumika is the one who connects all stories together ever since the beginning, naturally her story--who she is, what her background is, and how she ended up being a Shigofumi mailgirl--is revealed towards the end of the twelve-episodes anime.

As I've mentioned, Shigofumi portrays the not-so-lovely aspects of life like loneliness, desperation, suicide, bullying, child pornography, and child abuse. It's extremely obvious that this is not a show for the children. But if you are an adult and open-minded enough, I'd say that it's really a good thing to watch. Not "good" in a screwed up way, but rather it makes you re-examine some things in life.

My favorite episode is "Tomodachi" (Friends), in which a high school boy's suicide led his father to take hostage of his former class in search of an answer to why his son committed suicide. Nobody can provide an answer, though, since his closest friends were at loss too. The guy who committed suicide, Sen-chan, had had a pretty good life; he's well-liked amongst his peers, he hadn't been bullied or anything, and his family wasn't a broken one. Fumika then made a grand entrance, delivering Sen-chan's letter to Kotake, his closest friend. In it, Sen-chan put it simply that just because one didn't want to die, it didn't necessarily mean that he wanted to live. He didn't really want to die; he was just in the mood to jump, period. This might sound odd to you people, since you can expect yourself to die when you jump off an apartment building, but I understand it perfectly and I think that's why I love this particular episode very much.

The Not-So-Bali Experience 10/29/2008 12:55:00 AM

Through the course of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, Bali has become synonymous with paradise on earth. Nice sandy beaches, lush paddy fields, a place where artistry and piousness become one. Needless to say, to most people Bali seems to be a place out of this world. It is true even for a person like myself, who happen to be a citizen of a country called the Unitary Republic of Indonesia, a country Bali is actually a part of (although, ironically, not many people realize this fact).

Therefore, when I finally did have the chance to visit the island, I was looking forward to something different. Something that, as I've put it, is out of this world. And I was rather disappointed upon witnessing that Bali is pretty much like other parts of Indonesia that I've gone to so far.

There are the good aspects, like the laid-back attitude and sheer hospitality, which presented itself quite clearly as everyone said, "Hello, mister," to every white person passing by. And there are some not-so-good aspects, like clogged ditches and people defecating at the riverbank. But the place, despite its Hindu population dominating the scene in contrast to the country's Muslim majority, was as close as home to me, because the Balinese are just like the people I've seen and met everyday in my hometown. I can relate to them and I like them for it.

The weird thing was, I felt more connected to the islanders than to fellow tourists/visitors. These visitors, be it Indonesians or foreigners, lived a lifestyle so different from mine that I was often at loss to how to respond to this. These were the people who hung out at cafes and pubs regularly, who had drinks every now and then, who felt the need to dance when the band was playing (even when they didn't fancy that band). I've never been in that sort of circle all my life that it's overwhelming, if stifling (the smoke, man, the smoke!).

The moral of the story is that wherever you go you'd find people similar to you as well as the ones different from you and you'd better deal with it. But never lose your ground. So there, my no-so-Bali experience. The end.

What We Are 10/24/2008 04:14:00 PM

We are not our cars
We are not our jobs
We are not our money

We are not our families
We are not our spouses
We are not our standings in society

We are not animals
We are not flesh and blood
We are not accidents waiting to happen

But then
What are we?

Things I've Just Learned 10/24/2008 04:11:00 PM

So, I've just come home from volunteering for an event in Bali, and these are the things I've learned from that experience:

1) I'm still a long way from becoming an "adult"
As I see it, an adult is one who can keep his/her composure all the times, capable of maintaining his/her ground without worrying about what people might say about it, and has the ability to communicate smoothly with virtually anyone. And unfortunately, I'm still lacking in those three. Maybe I'll have more of them as I get older, who knows? Only time will tell....

2) Working intensely with the same set of people for a lengthy period of time is emotionally tiring
I only had one purpose for coming to Bali: volunteering. Thus, in addition to working eight to six for nearly a week, "volunteering" constantly dominated my thought, even when I was off duty. Therefore, the tension lingered and I often found myself wondering about some people's inadequacy at doing their job, outside working hours. (And I think some people might feel the same way about me.)

3) Do the things you do whole-heartedly because otherwise it sucks
It's annoying, seeing people who were clearly more into taking a vacation rather than volunteering, because such people tended to not taking their job seriously. And what's more exasperating than watching people dilly-dallying around while you're working your ass off? (Pardon my choice of words.) The point is, if you're not set for doing something, you'd better not do it in the first place because it's pointless.

4) Jerks are jerks, no matter what their nationalities are
Degrading as it is, it is widely believed that Indonesians are lazy and just can't do their job well, and the opposite is applied to Westerners. Tell you what, anyone who believes it is a moron, because laziness and irresponsibility has nothing to do with where you're from.

Triple Trouble of Tsubasa 9/14/2008 01:23:00 PM

After careful rereading of previous chapters, which made me stayed up until two o'clock in the morning, I finally managed to somewhat grasp a few confusing aspects of Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle. And here they are:

Body
A person's shell, which gives him/her his/her outward appearance.

Feather
In TRC, feathers are representations of Sakura's soul. Actually, it was Fei Wong Reed that converted her soul to feathers so that they could scatter to different dimensions.

Heart/Soul
An aspect of a person where his/her feelings, memories, and consciousness lie. (Do not confuse it with our conventional understanding about heart/soul.) Thus, someone who was without heart, like C!Syaoran, couldn't feel any physical or mental pain and could easily kill people without flinching. Souls/hearts (Sakura's feathers included) are the things that Fei Wong Reed collects in order to fulfill his wish.

Heart/soul can be given, lent, and copied. However, it doesn't mean that the receiver would have the same heart as the heart/soul's real owner. Meaning, the one receiving the heart would be a different person from the one giving/lending/providing it.

Example 1: C!Sakura still ended up liking C!Syaoran despite not having a portion of past memory about him.

Example 2: It took some time for C!Syaoran to warm up to others, even though he had received a part of R!Syaoran's heart. Having R!Syaoran's heart didn't make him identical to Syaoran; he neither had R!Syaoran's memories nor temperaments.

Example 3: Before C!Sakura's soul perished, she gave it to C!Syaoran. Receiving clearly didn't turn C!Syaoran into Sakura. It just made him being able to feel again (bringing back the old C!Syaoran, perhaps?!).


I could go on and on about this forever, but alas, it's late already (at least it's late when I'm writing this). Buh-bye!

Note: If you wish to take a glance at TSUBASA RESERVoir CHRONiCLE, you can read it at One Manga. However, to support CLAMP, please buy it in your nearest bookstore once it's licensed and available in your country. TSUBASA RESERVoir CHRONiCLE is the property of CLAMP, Kodansha, and Production I. G. I own nothing.

Too Much Love Will Kill You 9/10/2008 05:03:00 PM

I squealed when I heard that Hana Yori Dango made it to the big screen. As a fan of the series, I was looking forward to it. Maybe I wouldn’t get to watch it until the DVD is released. But for the time being, I decided to surf the internet and tried looking for some review.

Thankfully, Random Curiosity, which is the best blog about anime (and few doramas) out there, provided review as lengthy as I could expect. At first, it sounded quite promising. It seems that everyone who loves the series would have themselves ambushed with a sense of nostalgia watching the movie, which is good. But then, as I went further to the spoilery part of the review, a weird sensation started creep over me. It’s called nausea.

Hana Yori Dango Final follows the common pattern of every other romantic comedy on earth (or any of its predecessors for that matter; the TV series, I mean). A boy and a girl (or a man and a woman) having had to go through all adversities before realizing that they loved each other and finally living happily ever after. The problem is since Tsukushi and Tsukasa had already been an item, the adversities were limited to looking for something that they’d lost in Las Vegas and Hong Kong and being stranded in an uninhabited island. There’s no love-hate or we’re-cool-but-that’s-all or I-like-you-but-I-don’t-know-how-you-feel relationships. You know, the kind of thing you see in When Harry Met Sally or While You Were Sleeping (two of my all time favorite romantic comedies).

In their places, present all that stuff about is-he-the-one, are-we-destined-to-be-together, what’s-my/your-most-precious. I’m sorry, it’s just too much for me. The lovey-dovey stuff is so excessive (at least that’s the impression I got from the review) that I want to throw up. That’s why I never like Titanic or Romeo+Juliet.

But hey, look at the bright side. At least the ever-so-charming Matsumoto Jun starred it. That’s more than enough reason to watch Hana Yori Dango Final.

Good Omens (Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett) 9/05/2008 12:56:00 PM

Exchanged babies, American diplomat, Antichrist. Ring a bell? If you say The Omen, you're almost right. Only that it's a different kind of Omen, not THE Omen, but Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's Good Omens.

The idea is actually very simple, just like any ideas that make good books usually are. What if the satanic worshipper got it all wrong? What if, instead of exchanging the American diplomat's child with her master's son, she switched an accountant's (whose foster parents--the American attaché and his wife--were successfully persuaded to name him Warlock) with her master's (later called Adam)? This poses another question: would he be just as "evil" as he supposed to be, since he's undetected and thus, wouldn't have a satanic worshipper guided him to the dark side and all? To put it differently, which would be the dominant side determining his actions, genes or environment? (In The Omen, the answer was the former; Damien had already had devilish tendency, it seemed, even without having that nanny sent to him.)

Fortunately, unlike many stories whose only good point is their main idea (like that Chick-Lits that are all about getting men and living happily ever after), Good Omens has unpredictable plot and solid characterizations. Its characters are the kinds whom you'd know how they would act in a certain condition, since each and every characters' has such distinguishable nature. Like Aziraphale the metrosexual angel ("...gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide."), or Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell ("'Awa' wi' ye, harlot,'...") who's a grumbler but really a softy at heart and happens to be my favorite character ;p.

Of course, it's not Neil Gaiman's unless it's full of metaphors, puns, and plain funniness. It's not always easy to understand them because (a) I'm not British; (b) English isn't my first language. And so the references he made didn't always make sense to me, considering I wasn't familiar with what he was referring to. But most of the times, I still found them funny, such as "Two shadowy figures, one hunched and squat, the other lean and menacing, both of them Olympic-grade lurkers. If Bruce Springsteen had ever recorded 'Born to Lurk,' these two would have been on the album cover." or the "Four Bikers of the Apocalypse" instead of the "Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse" because they rode motorbikes and not horses or "Shadwell hated all southerners and, by inference, was standing at the North Pole."

It's safe to say that Good Omens has been very entertaining, which is why I now list them among my favorite books (I like it better than other Gaiman's works that I've read, Anansi Boys and Neverwhere). But if you want something more than "entertaining", don't worry, it has it. Good Omens is not just about the Apocalypse and the Antichrist being brought up in a nice, lovely countryside. It's also about humans who most of the times are neither being good or evil, but simply being humans. And if we want our problems sorted out, we'd better sort ourselves up rather than hoping for Divine intervention, just like Adam said, "...if you stopped tellin' people it's all sorted out after they're dead, they might try sorting it all out while they're alive."

Thank God for the Reruns 9/05/2008 12:53:00 PM

Ever since I learned the joy of watching football, the English Premier League in particular, I'd been indulged with top quality matches, served for free before me. In other words, instead of having to pay for cable to watch them, like so many did in other countries, I got to see them as long as I had a TV set. No decoder or receiver or monthly fee.

However, the it's-all-for-free ended this season (it was last season actually, but then because of all the protesting, we got to see some matches, despite most of them being Middlesborough's for who knows what reason) and I was left in the state of despair. Seriously! Not being able to watch Manchester United is bad enough, but not being able to watch any EPL match is abysmal. Of course, I can go to that cable TV representative office and ask for a subscription anytime. It's just that I have more pressing matters on which to spend my money to.

But then, something happened. This godsend came in the form of reruns. It was not many, only two matches per week (three, if you count Arsenal TV, but I don't watch Arsenal unless they lose or tie, which is, sadly, not that often), but let me tell you something. Once you lost something and had no hope of getting it back, the time that "something" was given to you, even though it's just a scrap of what it used to be, you'd find yourself being more grateful than you could possibly be under normal circumstances. In other words, I'm very thankful that I can at least watch some Premier League.

The drawback would be that I would already know how the matches ended, which is more or less takes the fun of it, especially when the team I rooted for lost. But again, it's better than nothing. And now if you'll excuse me, I've got Portsmouth vs. Everton to watch.

The Greatest Stories Ever Told 8/31/2008 05:36:00 PM

In many cultures, ancestors are looked upon with such respect that it's not uncommon to worship them. Ancestors are said to be more knowledgeable because they, unlike younger generation, had direct access to the Supreme Power, or gods, or the Creator, and thus, had received the ultimate wisdom from Him or they, which was to be the society's guidelines on living and perceiving life.

Nowadays, in the so-called modern society, the teachings of ancestors have become a thing of the past. Many people choose rationalism instead and laughed at "old teachings" that they considered as full-of-non-sense myth. They're clearly lacking imagination, I say. Can't they see that our ancestors were insightful visionaries and master storytellers?

Doesn't it amaze you that even today, God-knows how many years after our ancestors started inventing their stories, everyone still love to learn about them? And it's not just the scholars either; commoners who know nothing about anthropology and classics enjoy reading creation myths, tales of the underworld, and folklore too. These stories, whether they're created by a single person or developed for generations until taking their current forms that we know of today, still retain their magic, despite not being able to retain their power as means of social control anymore.

Nevertheless, I can't help marveling at the comprehensiveness of these ancestors-created stories, be it a myth, legend, or folklore. Maybe that's why everyone likes them. They tell you everything: about how the world and men (and women) were created, why animals can't talk, what actually happens when a volcano erupts, what happens after a person dies, and so on.

Even though to us they are but amusements, they're certainly believable enough that there was a time when people actually based their lives on them. If a myth told them to sacrifice humans as to avoid the wrath of a goddess, they would obey it unquestioningly. If a legend said that a malevolent spirit lived in a particular area and better be left alone, they would never come near that place.

And if you still thought that such stories could only come out of ignorant minds that were incapable of seeing beyond the supernatural, you'd better think twice. Haven't it occurred to you that the ones creating these stories--the sages or shamans or priests or whoever they were--were in fact really intelligent? Maybe they posed a restriction in order to protect their natural resource, or maybe they presented such logic to evoke fear and submission. Talk about a visionary. Or a tyrant.

One thing's for sure, though. I wish I can have one tenth of their creativity so that I can come up with a bestseller book. Ha, keep on dreaming, mate!

Words of a Rambling Idiot 8/31/2008 08:49:00 AM

I think I had childhood dream once, just like everyone. But just like many people, I left it at childhood. And now I forget what it was. It doesn't mean that I don't remember what I wanted to become when I was a kid. Let me list down some for you: an archeologist, a paleontologist, a goalkeeper, a writer, a comedian. But I'm not talking about professions here. I'm talking about my life's calling, my purpose on earth, something that made me go Aha! and said, "This is what I want to do for the rest of my life." If I really did know my purpose once, I'd say that I don't remember what it was anymore.

And since I don't know my purpose of being here, you can pretty much say that I'm lost right now. Wandering around, feeling restless, not knowing for sure what I'm doing here. Oh, and please, don't give me all that "Preparing yourself for the everlasting life" or "Struggling in order to obtain God's grace" thingy. Everyone says that all the time that it's become lame (people will butcher me for saying this). It doesn't mean that I don't believe in the afterlife or God; it's just that I believe each person has his/her own way on earth. And I haven't quite found my way yet, which is annoying.

Some might say that I should stop complaining and tell me to be thankful for what I've got. The "get a job, settle down" bXXXXXXt. But I can't just sit back, relax, and enjoy the scene. It's a state of convenience that makes me inconvenient. It's like comfortably watching a TV show and then suddenly realizing that there's something important that you gotta do. It's just that you forget what that "important" thing is.

I don't even know what I'm writing about anymore. It's just a random thought really. You can all shove it down the toilet if you like, be my guest.

TSUBASA RESERVoir CHRONiCLE chapter 188-196 (CLAMP) 8/15/2008 07:45:00 AM

Recent chapters are somewhat boring because CLAMP was building a background story for Syaoran (whom I referred to as Real!Syaoran, despite his real name not being Syaoran after all), which means no Kurogane nor Fai nor Mokona (that sucks!). "Clow Country" appeared in these chapters, but it's not like the Clow Country we'd seen in the beginning of the series. It looked like Clow Country anyway, with desert and all that. But its king was Fujitaka, not Clow Reed.

I feel bad for those reading this who never even read TSUBASA RESERVoir CHRONiCLE because I know you guys won't understand what I've written so far. Nevertheless, on with the review....

Chapter 188: The Ruins on That Day
The gang continued their journey to the ruins. There, they found a place filled with water—pools, mini falls; you get the idea. But the weird thing was, nothing was moving (including the supposed-to-be dripping water). Syaoran said that it was because time stopped at that place.

Chapter 189: Inherited Resolve
The recollection of Syaoran's past began. Young Syaoran was seen in front of Yuuko's shop. Saying that he had no wish, Syaoran told Yuuko that his father sent him there since, according to his mother's dream, someone was out there waiting for the boy. But when Syaoran asked what the price for traveling to another world might be, Yuuko said she had received it from his mother (and guess what it is: the star staff CCS's Sakura used). And so, Yuuko sent him to "Clow Country", where he met this girl in that watery place....

Chapter 190 (the translated title wasn't written on the scanlation)
The girl's name was Sakura, and she was undergoing a purification ceremony, which would last for seven days (the "seven days" part was actually mentioned in chapter 188, but I think it's more befitting to place it here). Surprised at seeing Syaoran, she fell to the water. But when Syaoran reached out to her to help her stand, Sakura refused adamantly (she apologized afterwards, of course) because she was not to be touched for that seven days. The priestess, Sakura's mother (who looked like Kinomoto Nadeshiko of CCS), came to take her back to the palace since the ceremony was over for that day. Syaoran tagged along as well, and in the palace he met the king of Clow, Sakura's father. As Syaoran and Sakura went off together, the king and his wife (a.k.a. the priestess a.k.a. the queen) talked about how Syaoran was the one destined for Sakura.

Chapter 191: The Seven-Day Promise
Not much information in this chapter, except for Yuuko's saying that Syaoran would only be permitted to stay in Clow Country for seven days. After that, he would return to his original world (Japan). Little Touya and Yukito made a cameo, by the way.

Chapter 192: Overflowing Memories
This chapter was even less informative than chapter 191. Just some cutesy scene starring Syaoran and Sakura (I've had enough of it; one would've, reading CCS). Syaoran's father made an appearance in this chapter, giving his son his sword (and you know what, the sword was like that of Li Syaoran of CCS; again, the CCS reference). And so did Watanuki.

Chapter 193: Seventh Birthday
Nothing notably interesting. Just the typical CLAMP dialogue about believing what the future holds and the sorts. The chapter ended with Sakura's falling into some kind of a trance when she and Syaoran were going stargazing two nights before the purification ceremony was over.

Chapter 194: The Tone that Calls the Princess
The trance thing--well, it seemed that Sakura heard the sound of a bell calling her from the ruins and had vision of something bad that was about to happen ("Syaoran, no! It's dangerous. Stay back!"). Worried, Syaoran suggested to the king that he accompanied Sakura during the ceremony. The king said he'd rather be there with her himself but didn't want to put everything Sakura had worked for to waste (since no one but Sakura was allowed to be there once the purification ceremony took place). And considering that the water didn't seem to mind Syaoran's being there (the ceremony wasn't canceled out when Syaoran arrived at the site the other day), the king agreed that Syaoran's accompanying Sakura was probably a good idea.

Chapter 195: The Border of the World
Syaoran and Sakura were at the ruins. Suddenly, the place shook and a rent materialized out of nowhere. Surprise, surprise, it's Fei Wong Reed. Syaoran went, "Sakura!"

Chapter 196: A Moment's Hesitation
Trying to save Sakura from Fei Wong Reed's evil clutches (oh, I love those words: evil clutches), Syaoran was close to grabbing her hand when he hesitated, realizing that Sakura should not touch and be touched by anyone until the ceremony ended, and it gave Fei Wong Reed the chance to engrave "the seal of death" to her body. And this "seal of death", well, it looked like THE feathers. I should mention that at this point, I was not surprised finding out that Sakura's real name was not Sakura.

The So-called Activists 8/12/2008 09:42:00 AM

I got my first lesson on students' dynamics from an upperclassman two years my senior. She said, "There are two types of students here. The SOs [study-oriented students] and the activists. Most students in the Pharmacy Department are SOs." Despite my having been a college student for only several months at that time, I had already understood the underlying meaning in her statement. She was clearly of the latter type, and she obviously didn't think highly of the former type.

The sentiment is that activists are good, and the SOs are bad. I mean not bad and good in moral context, but more in terms of social standing. The SOs are seen as unsociable, nerds, and ignorant. And the activists, whether they're the ones who spend their times holding protests, engaging in meetings until late at night, making publications, participating in/setting up festivities in a regular basis, or just hanging around leisurely in their organization's HQ, are the life and blood of the country. (The head of the main student body in my university is called "President"; therefore, comparing a university with a country is not unreasonable.)

I have to admit that I was an SO and yes, it's infuriating, being degraded indirectly like that. But the thing that annoys me the most was the I'm-better-than-you mentality, which is tolerable, if it's really true. However, that's not the case. The truth of the matter is, SOs and activists are not that different at all, especially when you see how they're doing in the real life, after finishing college.

Yes, there are a few activists who remain true to their words, words of an activist (you'll see what I mean in a short while), but there are only a small number of them; and for them, I offer them my utmost respect. But most of them, well, they're all talk. I remember the ones most persistent in criticizing our detachment ("Why can't you participate more? We need to be united, so give more time to think about our concern as a unit!") and the proudest in showing off their busy schedule ("There's a meeting at five, be sure to come! And there's this proposal that needs sending.") are the ones end up as the most loyal corporate rats, ever. Or the greediest when it comes to milking money. Like a person I know who used to be an activist promoting students' welfare, but now is working as a marketing guy for a pharmaceutical company, whose responsibility is to cut deals with doctors so that they would prescribe medicines produced by the company. And if you wonder what's wrong with it, it's nothing really; just the fact that in this country those illicit deals are the main factor composing drug production cost that it becomes so expensive beyond patients' ability to buy medicine.

In the end of the day, labels are just...labels. They give you a small glimpse of reality, but they never show the whole picture. So often that people get so consumed with labels sticking on them they're too busy feeling more superior and sophisticated than others, albeit unconsciously. They've forgotten that it's the spirit that really counts. And because of that, in this particular case, the label, status, and notable activities in their college years don't make them better than anybody else. They simply give a longer list of things they could brag about on their CVs. And what's so gratifying about that?

Note: If you're annoyed reading this, it's an indication that you're one of those so-called activists I mentioned above. If not, well done for you.

Good amongst Evil 7/31/2008 09:38:00 AM

As much as I love Doraemon, there's a time when I couldn't help feeling how kids-oriented it is. In fact, it is, but does it have to be that naive? The sentiment is more pronounced every time I read Dai-Chohen Doraemon (Doraemon Great Story). For who knows what reason, the series often present stories about aliens, extra or intraterrestrial, trying to seize the earth from evil clutches of humankind. "Evil clutches", that's the keyword. And then Doraemon, Nobita, and company would prove them wrong, showing that good humans--them--still existed on the face of earth. Seeing this, the aliens would always call off their plans eventually and then everyone would live happily ever after.

Even though I enjoyed the stories, I always wonder why this topic emerges again and again. That "evil clutches" thing. Why not use motives like aliens being greedy that it's natural for them to try rule the universe or their having the desire to take control of earth's natural resources? I mean, they're much more "real", considering that you can draw the parallels between them and events that had happened in the world. Isn't it an obvious fact that good humans are still to be found everywhere? Did they have to emphasize it continuously through the series?

It's only recently that I realized how true those stories are. Yes, good humans still exist in this world. But once you look around, check out the paper or turn on the TV, you get the feeling that it's the bad ones that dominate this planet. It's the bad ones that produce the most prominent impacts. Wars, terrorism, the rich getting richer by trampling on the poor, destruction of natural world, and so forth. If aliens were watching us right now, they would laugh at humankind for the damage that they have caused upon themselves. Or probably they would arrange an emergency meeting to save the earth from evil clutches of humankind, like aliens in Dai-Chohen Doraemon did.

And as the idea of choosing a tyrant and asking him to vanquish all darned men started to seem less ruthless to me, it's impossible for me to not admire the writers of Dai-Chohen Doraemon for their positive way of thinking. As one gets older, she's more prone to the "been there, done that" attitude that makes her cynical about the world, about people. Yet, they didn't lose their faith in humans; thus, the stories.

In Nobita's world, the task to save the world from fellow humans' wickedness upon returning to his day-to-day life was made easier by Doraemon. When developer planned on turning the hill at the back of his school into a new building site, Doraemon came with his sophisticated gizmo and scared the hell out of the developer, keeping them away for good. In the real world however, we don't have Doraemon to lend a helping hand. Hence, we have no choice but believe that human kindness would eventually prevail, like the series' writers did. I really wish I could do so.

Finally! 7/26/2008 10:50:00 AM

Finally!! Finally!!! After two months of stumbling over my words, I finally finished the project I've been working on. It has been a bumpy ride, with constant help from Oxford Advanced Learner's Dictionary along the way, but I'm somewhat pleased with the result.

However, I'm still anxious because I know, as a person whose first language is not English, and who's not formally trained in English, the chance of my making mistakes was rather big. During the translation process, I kept worrying about whether or not I used the right tenses (there's no such thing as tenses in Indonesian), prepositions, suffixes (imagine using ‘s behind the name of a person ended with s; well, I think I should've used ...s's instead of ...s', but I decided to choose the latter due to aesthetic consideration, which is probably going to be slashed by the editor later on), the right words (like the time I used "bat" instead of "club" to refer to the thing people use to knock down thugs; I realized it too late, because the script, which was handed down in installments instead of in complete form like I used to do, had been sent to the editor). You could say that I'm worried about every possible grammatical/structural/whatever mistake one could make in English.

My greatest fears are the editor grumbling as he/she sees my work, saying, "Does this translator even know how to use English properly?" since there are so many mistakes and the book's author crying, "What has she done to my work? She had butchered it!" as he read my transliteration. I pray to God that such thing will never happen.

But I have to say that the project was very enjoyable since the book is a really good one (despite its heartrending aspects, which I have mentioned in my previous piece of writing). I just hope that people reading the English translation would find as much joy as I did reading the real thing written in Bahasa Indonesia.

Note: By the way, the movie version of the book is in production. It'll certainly be a fresh alternative, among local cheap horror flicks, lovey-dovey craps, and perverted comedies that roamed around the cinemas these days.

How to Disappear Completely 7/12/2008 03:03:00 PM

What's worse than being overwhelmingly busy that your mind's so confused you don't even know what to think about anymore? Having nothing to do, that's what it is. Because if that should happen, your mind would take matters into its own...erm...hands, and all of a sudden weird thoughts would start swimming about in your brain. Those weird thoughts might or might not be important, depending on whom you're talking to or what book you'd been reading recently. But regardless which, they're all very worrying; take questions about the futileness of life and the purpose of one's existence, for example.

Despite their being less real--or at least that's how they seem to be--compared to your day-to-day business, such as paying the bills, the effect they cause to your brain is just as real, making you restless, confused, helpless. Truth of the matter, they're even worse because there's no definite answer to them. Who knows for sure how to answer those questions? Some people spend their whole life looking for the answer and ending up never finding them; some people discover them just like that, somewhat by coincidence; and some don't even realize that such questions exist in the first place. At least, bills are simpler, you just have to wait until your next payroll to pay them out.

That's why it's good--for me--to turn the TV on although there's nothing interesting on it, to play the game I've played many times again and again, to read a fantasy story set as far away and as detached as possible from the life I've been living right now. Doing so gives me the chance to escape from myself, to forget any uncomfortable realization for a while. Drugging me, that's what they do. As my mind goes deeper into the inanimate object I was facing at that moment, I lose my sense of self. I'm not conscious of myself anymore.And then, there's always THAT. Sleep. The natural painkiller. Sleep. It's good. It's good.

Note: Before anyone gets the wrong idea and tries to sue me, here's a disclaimer for you. The words "How to Disappear Completely" is snatched off from a song's title, whose copyright belongs to Radiohead and Warner Chappell Music Publishing Ltd. “How to Disappear Completely" appears in Radiohead's fourth album, Kid A. Buy it if you wish to.

Endless 7/05/2008 07:24:00 PM

A blue sky under which I can live in
That's all that I need

Productive herd, and weatherproof tent to sleep in
That's all that I need

A patch of land, and nice warm hut to settle in
That's all that I need

Condo, top class car, chains of gold
Savings account, a closetful of shoes, a trip to Singapore
Flat screen TV, multimedia cell, cute-looking iPod
...
...
...
That's all that I need

Too Personal 6/02/2008 10:06:00 PM

Two months of absence. How about that! I know I’ve broken my own commitment and I wouldn’t make excuses for it. I was lazy, period. It’s bad, bad, bad!

What has happened for the past two months? Nothing new, I tell you. It’s just that I’m working on a new project right now and it’s not good. It’s not because I’m having trouble or anything (at least not more than what I went through for other projects), but rather because it becomes too personal for me.

Have you ever heard something about “a book that haunts you”? I never really understood what it meant. There were some books and movies and other works that disturbed me. Take Animal Farm or Confessions of an Economic Hit Man or Virus of the Mind, for example. They caused restlessness. But it didn’t last long. Time and time again I would be reminded of them and I would be upset. But that’s it.

This time around, I’m working on a bestseller book (here in my country). It’s supposed to be good, at least that’s what people say about it (ironically, I was interested in it when it just hit the bookstore, but I didn’t buy it at that time because I didn’t have enough money; however, after it became a big success, I lost my interest--I’m just that kind of person). And you know what, it is damn good! So good that, for the first time, I understand what “a book that haunts you” mean.

Largely inspired by the author’s real life, it portrays the happy and sad reality of life in this land where I live. I know such things, things that he described on his book, happen all the time here: brilliant young minds that have to quit school because they couldn’t afford it, destitute people living next door to wealthy mining companies, corruption and snobbishness. But it (the book, I mean) gives names and faces to those unknown people. And it hurts me.

And do you know what’s the most frustrating thing is? It’s this feeling of helplessness. I feel like I couldn’t anything to help. The most that I could offer is criticism, and it sucks. I wish I can be more productive. But how?

I guess what I’m trying to say is that it would be better if one doesn’t take his/her job too personal. Because doing so makes one crazy. Honest!

Froggy Umbridge 4/17/2008 07:18:00 PM

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. And so does Warner Bros. I’m merely borrowing.

TSUBASA RESERVoir CHRONiCLE chapter 182-187 (CLAMP) 4/17/2008 07:15:00 PM

It’s a short one, here it goes:

Chapter 182: Night of the Vows

...in which Kurogane had a talk with Tomoyo. Kurogane got his sword Ginryuu back from Tomoyo (he had asked her to bury it with her mother’s body, but Tomoyo hadn’t done it because Kuro’s mother had asked her not to prior to, prior to her death when she met Tomoyo inside the dreamscape) and made a vow to return to her once the whole ordeal was over. Fai, on the other hand, made a peace of sort with Syaoran, taking off his mask of indifference towards the boy.

Chapter 183: The World of Sand

...in which Yuuko sent the gang to Clow Country, using a good amount of her energy and endangering herself in the process of guiding them there, it seems.

Chapter 184: The Separated Time

...in which the gang arrived at Clow Country, and was welcomed quite warmly by the locals. But something was amiss...

Chapter 185: Repeating Time

...in which Syaoran-tachi confirmed that time was repeating itself. Cute Kuro-Fai moment (Fai smacked Kuro on the head for hiding his pain, caused by the artificial arm which didn’t fit).

Chapter 186: Stagnant Time

...in which the guys noticed that some people at the bazaar, of the still repeating time, disappeared. And then, they saw people melting in front of their eyes. Apparently, that happened every time they change the course of things.

Chapter 187: The Consequences of Wishes

...in which Syaoran and the others decided that even if it meant causing somebody else’s life to disappear, they still wanted to move forward in order to save Sakura. Fei Wong remarked that it made Syaoran-tachi not at all too different from him. They disregarded others to obtain their wishes, just like he did.

Note: I should congratulate myself for mustering enough energy to write this review down, since my laziness level has reached its peak, hindering any idea that tries to get itself transmitted from the brain to the writing fingers.

The Catcher in the Rye (J. D. Salinger) 4/11/2008 06:34:00 AM

Have you ever been bored to death with your life? Ever got sick and tired with fake masks people around you are putting on every day? Ever wanted to run away from it all? I sure have and The Catcher in the Rye’s Holden Caulfield--even though he’s not a real person in the sense that he has only been existed on the pages of Salinger’s work--had too.

Being a somewhat movie freak that I am, The Catcher in the Rye reminds me of Dead Poets Society and Igby Goes Down. The Catcher in the Rye has this: prep boy, unnatural death (just like Dead Poets and Igby), adventure in the Big Apple (Igby), parents’ pressure (Dead Poets). The previous phrases pretty much sum everything up, really. Holden Caulfield, seventeen years old, getting sacked for the third time out of yet another expensive preparatory school (which had its own dorm, mind you), decided to leave the school before the due date and chose to roam around the streets of New York before returning home in time for Christmas holiday. His adventure was not at all too exciting, from this humble reader’s point of view. If Holden’s quest was worth anything, it simply pointed out how immature he was.

The best character you could find a book is the one that, cliché as it may sound, you can relate to. In my case, it was Holden’s ill opinion towards the people around him that struck me the most, because I often think that way myself. To put it simply, Holden thought that most people, school mates and teachers in particular, were phonies--they acted cool and wise and impressive while the truth was, they’re nothing like that. I imagine that Holden saw no point in impressing these people, especially if doing so would make him end up being as false as they were.

Many sentences on the book were Holden’s ranting on people’s deceits. Too bad Holden failed to notice that he often acted phony himself--acting cool at a nightclub, trying to book a prostitute, lying to impress others, dating a girl he didn’t like. That’s the problem with people with negative standpoint towards the world. They’re too busy criticizing others that they couldn’t see what’s wrong with themselves. Perhaps I’m like that too.

Speaking about a person with negative worldview, it’s very likely that the guy who shot John Lennon, who was said to have read The Catcher in the Rye before performing his deed, falls to that category. Truth to be told, the world doesn’t seem bleak after reading The Catcher in the Rye. It’s quite the contrary. Because Holden finally realized that, despite his ramblings about how bad everything really was, it’s the simplest thing that eventually made life worth living; in his case, it’s the sight of his little sister riding on the carousel. And despite how lame people were, they’re probably not that bad either; you could even miss those people after you parted with them.

Too Lazy to Write 3/29/2008 08:37:00 PM

The title says it all. There are bits and pieces of inspiration that are screaming inside my head, wanting to be let out. Too bad I’m too lazy to elaborate them, hence this rubbish of a rant.

The pattern is readable. Whenever I’m excessively occupied with something--work, reading, new DVDs that need to be watched--I lose my will to write. No, not “losing my will”, it’s an exaggeration. Simply put, I become lazy because my energy is very much focused on that other thing.

At this particular moment, I’ve got stack of books that need reading. Oh, the temptation! I can see their invisible hands extended, beckoning to me “Read us, read us.” How can I resist such invitation? So far, I’ve finished The Catcher in the Rye, Middlesex, The Golden Compass, and The Subtle Knife (none of them was recorded in “Currently Reading” because I didn’t use the internet during the time). I’m currently reflecting on what to read next--The Amber Spyglass, Baudolino, Anansi Boys, You Shall Know Our Velocity, The Pillars of the Earth, World without End, The Other Boleyn Girl, The Third Wave, and The Bartimaeus Trilogy waiting in line--bearing in mind that I still have some time before the next translating projects arrive.

So there, that’s why I’m so lazy to write anything today. And considering that the job is waiting for me in the corner, I might be busy for the next couple of months. Maybe the laziness would still linger then.

RIP: My Cassette Player 3/20/2008 09:54:00 PM

It’s the end. My cassette player finally broke down. It can still roll the tape, but unless you’re into screeching, incomprehensible sound, it’s advisable not to play the cassette with it.

You know what they say about “you get what you pay for”? They’re right. My cassette player was bought at a very low price and apparently, the quality is just as low. It can’t even survive more than ten years. And oh, have I ever mentioned that you couldn’t balance the speakers? And that the volume control was practically useless? And these had happened ever since it was bought.

Well, whatever. I really need to get myself a new cassette player now. Unless if there’s someone out there who would lend me a-high-tech-device-that-can-convert-audio-data-in magnetic-tapes-to-digital-ones-thingy. Does such device exist?

Soundtrack of My Life 3/11/2008 09:34:00 AM

Pavlov’s dog wasn’t the only one stimulated by a particular sound. Humans are like that too, and I’m no exception. It’s actually very good, taking a trip down the memory lane or an emotional roller coaster all of the sudden every time I listen to a certain song from my album collection. And these are the ones that evoke the greatest memories of all:

What’s the Story Morning Glory – Oasis
Oasis was my savior going through my unpleasant junior school life. It may sound like an overstatement, but Oasis’ songs were the ones that enabled me to travel to dreamland for a while when the going got tough. Just like Björk, Oasis reminds me of the cold and rainy afternoon after school, when I got home tuning to MTV.
FAVORITE SONG: “Roll with It” (my favorite used to be “Wonderwall”, but I’d listened to it too many times I got sick of it)

Ultra – Ultra
In case you’re wondering what, or who, Ultra was, it was a one-hit-wonder band which only produced one album (which was quite decent) during their short career. Listening to their songs bring the 1998 World Cup in France to mind because, well, their first single became a big hit in summer 1998 (or to put it more accurately, on June 1998, since we don’t have summer in Indonesia). The album also marked my monumental first year in high school and the lab-turned-classroom where we--class 1-9--belonged (plus the spooky story and the cute human skeleton we had).
FAVORITE SONG: “Say You Do”

Performance and Cocktails - Stereophonics
Cram school, the trip to and from the place, and college entry exam preparation are those that come to mind whenever I hear this album. I bought the album some time in May or June 2001 and naturally, played it again and again for a couple of months following it. I was taking the college entry exam on July, so I listened to the album a lot while studying. You figure the connection.
FAVORITE SONG: “Just Looking”

The Man Who - Travis
The Man Who triggers a feeling of “aloneness” in me. I feel as if I’m the only one in the world, but I’m not lonely because at the time, nobody matters but me.
FAVORITE SONG: “Turn”

OK Computer – Radiohead
I couldn’t help myself relating OK Computer with helplessness and disappointment in the way the world works. It’s not the limping feeling which makes you feel like committed suicide or something destructive like that. On the contrary, it gives you the drive to not become a lame, boring person like most members of the general population. One might think I’m overanalyzing things, but I’m not. I don’t think about it, I feel it.
FAVORITE SONG: “Let Down”

By the way, if any of you have that high tech thingy which can convert magnetic tape records to digital files, I’d love to borrow it. All my highly treasured albums are on cassette formats, because I couldn’t afford CDs back then. Pretty please?

Break a Leg 3/06/2008 11:11:00 AM

Is my mind failing me? Because I don’t remember such havoc when somebody else was injured (apart from Becks and his metatarsal thingy).

In case you’re all wondering (again) what I’m talking about, it’s about a footballer’s injury and its circumstances. Sometime around two weeks ago, Arsenal’s Eduardo da Silva (da Silva, is that his surname) was injured badly during--his leg broke in two places--a match against Birmingham City. Arsene Wenger was, quite naturally, very furious, even went on by saying that Martin Taylor (the one who committed the foul) didn’t deserve playing football ever again, or something like that. In the end, he took back his words, but what’s said has been said.

What’s unbelievable is how the press is making such a big fuss of it. I mean, come on, give us a break! Nasty as it was, injury is inevitable in football. Sometimes you injure yourself, sometimes someone takes that liberty from you. Sometimes someone injures you intentionally, sometimes they don’t. In Eduardo-Taylor case, Taylor did what he did out of sheer stupidity and clumsiness (no one with the right mind injured someone from the opposing time on the third minute into the match!).

And a smart guy like Wenger should’ve thought twice before he said anything, considering that he once had the likes of Viera and co. in his team. And we all know that their tackles were anything but gentle.

So, what’s the point in pointing out how bad Eduardo injury is and how brutal Taylor’s challenge was? Such things happen everyday in football, don’t they? Day-to-day business becomes something of high importance because it gives the press a chance to delve upon it, even though there’s nothing to delve upon in the first place. No wonder football supporters in England have so much antipathy towards the press.

Note: The worst injury I’ve ever seen is one that befell a Coventry City player (name forgotten), who was injured by Denis Irwin. It was nasty and bloody. The injury ended his career permanently, and Manchester United participated in a charity/commemorative match for that player. The last that I saw of him was when he was coaching Coventry’s U-12 (or something) team. I hope he’s doing well, whatever he’s doing right now.

Flood of Thoughts Sent by an Icelandic Artist 2/24/2008 10:18:00 PM

Watching Björk’s Volta Tour concert report on TV, these things crossed my mind:

(1)
She actually held a concert in Jakarta? I wonder if Radiohead would ever hold a concert in Indonesia. But it seems impossible because they’re like the kind of guys who wouldn’t perform, and getting paid for it of course, in underdeveloped countries. And they’re not into the world-tour-for-a-whole-year mode anymore like they were in the old days.

(2)
Ah, she reminded me of my junior high years. Coming home from school, raining pouring out outside, and watching (and listening to) Björk’s Army of Me on MTV. MTV was much better then; you got to see more videos from various musical genres. Nowadays, they only had R ‘n B and hip-hop and that kind of stuff. It’s boring.

(3)
It bothers me that that dangdut singer came to watch the concert while she didn’t seem like sincerely enjoying Björk’s music. If she thought that Björk’s music was a jumble of incomprehensible sounds, she shouldn’t bother coming in the first place. It’s an insult to all Björk’s fans in Indonesia who didn’t have the chance to come to the concert.

Notes: Useless rant. Please ignore.

TSUBASA RESERVoir CHRONiCLE chapter 178-181 (CLAMP) 2/15/2008 04:08:00 PM

Like I said last time, there was another surprise: Sakura that had traveled so far with the group from the very start was not the real Sakura, she was (another) clone made by Fei Wong Reed.

To remind you once again, Fei Wong Reed wished to change the logic that pronounced a dead person could never be revived. In order to do so, he needed to gain the power to transcend time and space. That's why he transformed Sakura's memories to feathers. These feathers, scattered throughout dimensions, would engrave the whereabouts of those various dimensions on them, which were needed by Fei Wong in pursuit of the power he wished to have.

Why cloned Sakura then? Well, who knew what would happen during the long journey. There might be casualties, including Sakura, and if such thing happened, then Fei Wong's plan would fail miserably. As long as he kept the real Sakura with him, and let the clone roam about instead, he could repeat the same course of action (cloning Sakura, sending the clone version on a journey, and so on) again and again and again, until he gained all the memories of dimensions.

However, Clone Sakura was different from Clone Syaoran (C!Syaoran) because she had a heart. Fei Wong cloned Sakura (using a mirror, by the way) completely, both her body and her heart (while in C!Syaoran's case, only the body was cloned, and the heart he had once had was R!Syaoran's). But since the no-way-you-could-clone-something-that-perfectly-resembled-the-real-thing principle was applied to CLAMPverse, right after C!Sakura was made, R!Sakura's body fell apart and disappeared. Only her soul remained.

So, C!Sakura's soul was stabbed by C!Syaoran in the dream world, her soul slowly disappeared, leaving a tiny part of her heart to be given to heartless C!Syaoran who, after receiving the heart, realized what he had done and screamed in agony.

The dream world had been shaking and merging with the real world (a room inside Shirasagi Castle) for some time, so everyone in the room--Kurogane, Fai, Mokona, Tomoyo, Amaterasu, Souma, Fuuma, Seishirou--could see the outcome of the fight and C!Sakura's tragic end. And then, Kyle (Fei Wong's minion, the one who played good doctor in Jade) came out of nowhere, grabbed Sakura's body that had been place on top of the sacred sakura tree and the feather from the dreamscape, and disappeared once again, taking all the he'd got to his boss.

In the end of Chapter 181, R!Syaoran (C!Syaoran didn't fall to Nihon with him when the dream world had been closed), Kurogane, and Fai determined to save Sakura (the cloned body and the real soul) from the evil clutches of Fei Wong. Yuuko told them that Fei Wong was inside a "cut off time" in Clow. They didn't have to hand over a payment to Yuuko because someone who was closer to Syaoran more than anyone else--Watanuki--had paid the price with his memories, causing him to forget his past, parents' name, and even the fact that he had given away his memories. Poor Watanuki! And the fact that they have only published volume 1 of xxxHOLiC here in Indonesia is really upsetting because we're 10 volumes-or-so behind.

Note: Terrible use of tenses, I know. Please bear with me....

The Mysterious Undertone 2/06/2008 10:26:00 PM

Like many Indonesians, I’m familiar with more than one language. For me, they are Indonesian, Sundanese, Javanese, and English. I understand Sundanese and Javanese well, but I very rarely use them due to the courtesy hurdle. Instead of speaking Sundanese and/or Javanese and ends up offending someone for not using the proper word, I’d rather not speak at all. I have no such problem with English, which is more egalitarian in nature. As for Indonesian, it’s my mother-tongue and I always feel comfortable using it.

The funny thing is, and it’s not something that I’ve just noticed recently, when it comes to express my feelings in written form, I prefer English to Indonesian. The writings which represent me more are my English ones, not the Indonesian (a fact which was reaffirmed by a friend). Using English, I feel more “loose.” Let us say that as far as my writings are concerned, Indonesian is Dr. Jekyll and English is Mr. Hyde.

If medieval psychology were to be believed at, I would fall into “phlegmatic” type. The type who has phlegm dominating her body humoral composition and thus, choked by phlegm, maintains a quiet manner. That’s right. I remember at class discussion, I would often disagree with what the speaker was talking about. Most of their explanations afterwards (in reply to my questions) were unimpressive and far from convincing, but I never pressed the matter further. I didn’t fancy open myself up completely, even when it was in a superficial environment like a classroom. Plus, arguing would be too bothersome.

Umm, what does it have to do with my writings, you say? Everything. I’ve lived all my life in Indonesia and speak in Indonesian. And the aforementioned classroom episode is a good example of how I present myself in the Indonesian community where I live in. Writing in Indonesian is pretty much the same like talking to (Indonesian) people in real life. I’ll keep up my cool, unbothered, peace-loving composure no matter what, even in my writings.

English is completely different. When I’m writing in English, it’s as if I’m freed from all the confines of the society in which I live now. I criticize, curse, and lament in English with no hesitation. I might understand what English words and expressions mean, but I’m detached from the underlying “feel” of the language. For example, I could say the F word out loud when cursing, without flinching, because even though I know that it’s taboo, I couldn’t feel the insolence underlying the word. That’s because I’m not socialized in/with English. Writing in English, I could open up, but at the same time, not opening up myself entirely.

I bet you’re feeling dizzy now.

Dropped Out 2/04/2008 11:21:00 AM

I've been dropped out from Myths and Legends because I didn't do the Midterm Exam. I didn't know that there was a midterm exam *sigh*. This is annoying!!!! And once again, I'm upset over trivial stuff.

TSUBASA RESERVoir CHRONiCLE chapter 172-178 (CLAMP) 2/01/2008 10:56:00 AM

Ah, so many things had happened since my last review of TRC. R!Syaoran and Seishirou’s fight had been over, with R!Syaoran’s retrieving the feather, and apparently Seishirou had intended to give the feather away to R!Syaoran from the very start. He just wanted to have some fun with R!Syaoran because he thought R!Syaoran was “interesting.” What a messed-up guy. But we’ve known that for ages (to be precise, ever since Tokyo Babylon, although TB and TRC’s Seishirou were technically two different people living in different dimensions) by now, right?!

To make a long story short, the newly acclaimed feather opened the gateway to the dream-world at the sacred sakura tree, and R!Syaoran was sucked into the dream world. There, he met Sakura (Sakura’s soul) and C!Syaoran, who coldly asked for the feather. Of course, R!Syaoran wouldn’t give in; instead, he determined to eradicate C!Syaoran for all the damages he had caused, and because C!Syaoran was somewhat a part of him.

It wasn’t an easy fight because C!Syaoran was really, really strong. Much stronger than before he left the group. And it’s all because of the eye he had stolen from Fai. Apparently, Fai’s eyes, which were the source of his magic, worked like this: The left eye made him stronger and lengthen his lifespan every time Fai used his magic, while the right eye had the opposite effect. Both, they neutralized each other’s effect. But because C!Syaoran took the left eye and Fai now only had his right eye, you could imagine what happened to each person (note: using his magic along with Mokonas’ in order to return to Celes, Fai had literally been risking his life as a payment).

C!Syaoran managed taking out Sakura’s feather from R!Syaoran’s body (the one he had just got from Seishirou), but R!Syaoran, who had been knocked out for some time by C!Syaoran’s magic, stopped the clone from taking it away. The feather slipped from C!Syaoran’s hand, and as the two drew out their swords to get in the way of the other party, Sakura came in between. And C!Syaoran’s sword stabbed her. Then, another surprise was revealed. But that’s rather complicated, so I’ll explain it in detail in my next review of TRC.

And speaking about Fei Wong Reed, the culprit behind all this, his wish was to destroy the logic that said that a person who had been dead couldn’t be revived. Apparently he wanted to resurrect someone, and since it wasn’t possible--due to the laws of nature--Fei Wong determined to change that very logic. Despite anyone who might be hurt in the process.

That’s it for now. Until next review....

HOL Accomplishment 1/30/2008 10:07:00 PM

My team made it to the semi-final! Yay! It might not be a big deal, yet for this particular task, I can’t help being proud of us, of myself.

Task 7 was a multimedia task in which the teams were required to create something funny regarding Dolores Umbridge. I suggested making a comic, since I couldn’t think of anything better and simpler, and my partner agreed. And that’s what we decided to make in the end. She created a hilarious Umbridge story and I was left with the responsibility of drawing the comic. No problem. Except for one minor hitch. I couldn’t draw.

There were quite a lot that I had to do before I started drawing. Animals were my weakest point, and because a frog was to be presented in the story, I needed to find frog-illustration as example. After that, I dug into my magazine collection for some doujinshis, to get an idea of how panels were parted.

I will definitely upload the fan-comic here once the winner of task 7 is announced. Until then, I’m going to enjoy this intoxicating sense of self-accomplishment.

Note: Of course, my thanks should go to my partner, Neti, for her story.

The Name of the Rose (Umberto Eco) - review 2 1/24/2008 06:38:00 PM

Name was important, there’s no doubt about it. It simplified a concept. Could you imagine how complicated it would be if things didn’t have names attached on them? How would you distinguish one thing from another?

Yet, as Juliet (or Shakespeare) beautifully pointed out, name was nothing but a representation of the concept it conveyed. In the end, that concept was more important than its name. But was it?

The paradox was everywhere in The Name of the Rose, even in the smallest of things like Adso’s detailed description on the church’s door carving (?). Not only that it had pictures of heaven and earth (and their inhabitants), but it also portrayed fantastic animals from the Bestiary. Remember that these creatures were imaginary, existed only in the world of ideas. However, the readers could easily identify them through their names--griffin, chimera, manticore, incubus--as if they were as real as elephant or monkey or chicken. Their names were everything because without them, these imaginary creatures would be nothing more than a set of ideas hidden inside their creator’s mind. In the same time, the names also meant nothing for the concept it represented had no existence in “reality.” Say the name “griffin” to one who’s not familiar with it and then it would simply be considered as a ridiculous cross-breeding of eagle and lion, losing its entire context.

We also got to see how a name became so powerful that it became the driving force behind someone’s actions and motives. Driven by his love of God, and his abhorrence towards everything unholy, the antagonist unremorsefully orchestrated six murders within the abbey’s walls. It’s ironic really, in his attempt to stop the coming of anti-Christ, he became the very representation of anti-Christ itself. In this case, the name became so powerful, more powerful than the concept it represented.

Despite all the complexities, The Name of the Rose was a worthy read. Putting aside the semiotic-thingy, it’s still enjoyable as a thrilling detective story.

Note: I’m not familiar with griffin, by the way.