Don't ask me about contemporary music. I simply have no clue. You can pretty much say that as far as musical taste goes, mine never went further than 2003. I'm all for 90's music--Brit pop, lousy boybands, alternative rock, that sort of thing. I have zero interest in the R n' B scene that has dominated the music industry for these past five years or so.
While we're talking about music, nowadays I often find myself drift back to the 80's period. New age stuff. Synthesizer and the likes. Tears for Fears, Depeche Mode, New Order. You get the idea. As for Duran Duran, I'll have to pass (that's my brother's domain, he's been a big fan of eighties music for a while; he's three years younger than me, by the way). I like The Police, too, but they're an anomaly. Their white reggae isn't really a representative of the era.
Well, I'm not in a band or something. Otherwise, I would've recycled the old thing--the eighties style--and make a new music that I can claim my own. Some Indonesian bands do it, you know. I wonder if their fans--especially the kiddies who were born in the 90's--realize that. The point is, this newfound interest in the eighties isn't mine alone. At least I don't make a fool of myself and take it one step further by putting on blue mascara or perming my hair.
It's not just music, though. The movies get into me, too. I've watched quite a lot of eighties movies on TV. Too bad I watched them when I was too young to understand them thoroughly. The most vivid memory is about being impressed by Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom so much that I wanted to become an archeologist afterwards. I'm lucky for having the chance to watch the whole Indiana Jones trilogy recently (prior to the release of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull). As for the more iconic eighties movies like The Breakfast Club, St. Elmo's Fire, and Pretty in Pink, I'm not too lucky. I'd watched them, but they're all just a bunch of blur in my head. Obtaining those movies here in Indonesia is virtually impossible.
One thing that makes me so enthralled by the eighties is this warm and fuzzy feeling that I get upon listening to or reading about or seeing something eighty-ish. Maybe it's because deep down they remind me of the carefree days of my youth, a time when I had nothing to worry about. No need to delve too much into it, though. For the time being, I'm just going to have a taste of the eighties once more.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
The Fear 3/23/2009 10:17:00 PM
Some books I didn't finish reading at first attempt. It's either because they're difficult, boring, or there were other more interesting book at hand at that particular time. Amongst those, my greatest victory was The Name of the Rose. Looking back, it's amazing that I managed to finish that book at all, given my limited knowledge about 15th century Europe politics and the rotten (Indonesian) translation. But I did. I simply gave up with The Silmarillion. I kept forgetting who's who that reading it was not fun anymore. Such creation myth is better left as an oral composition, period. (And I know Professor Tolkien was really trying to construct a new Anglo Saxon myth of some sort.)
A House for Mr. Biswas is a difficult one too, in its own way. One doesn't need to know much about Trinidad or Indians in the island to enjoy the book. It doesn't have that many characters either. It's like having my worst nightmare spread open before me.
Mr. Biswas, the story main character, is your average Joe. He's like you and me. There's nothing remotely interesting about his life--his job is boring, he's not crazy about his wife and children, he's cynical about many things yet he couldn't do anything to change them, he has no particular achievement worth mentioning.
Reading the book scares me because I'm afraid that's the direction I'm heading right now in my life. Obscurity. Purposelessness. Simply going through the motions of living.
Don't get me wrong. Fearing obscurity doesn't mean that I'm eager to be famous or that I'm seeking for somebody else's acceptance. That's not it. I'm afraid that my life would be meaningless. Most people live without the knowledge that their existence means nothing, that whether they lived or not doesn't make any difference, that they'll soon be forgotten. I recognize this possibility and that's why I'm scared to death. I dread a mundane life like that of Mr. Biswas'. But can mine be any different?
Note: In case you're wondering, I'm still reading A House for Mr. Biswas. This is my third attempt.
A House for Mr. Biswas is a difficult one too, in its own way. One doesn't need to know much about Trinidad or Indians in the island to enjoy the book. It doesn't have that many characters either. It's like having my worst nightmare spread open before me.
Mr. Biswas, the story main character, is your average Joe. He's like you and me. There's nothing remotely interesting about his life--his job is boring, he's not crazy about his wife and children, he's cynical about many things yet he couldn't do anything to change them, he has no particular achievement worth mentioning.
Reading the book scares me because I'm afraid that's the direction I'm heading right now in my life. Obscurity. Purposelessness. Simply going through the motions of living.
Don't get me wrong. Fearing obscurity doesn't mean that I'm eager to be famous or that I'm seeking for somebody else's acceptance. That's not it. I'm afraid that my life would be meaningless. Most people live without the knowledge that their existence means nothing, that whether they lived or not doesn't make any difference, that they'll soon be forgotten. I recognize this possibility and that's why I'm scared to death. I dread a mundane life like that of Mr. Biswas'. But can mine be any different?
Note: In case you're wondering, I'm still reading A House for Mr. Biswas. This is my third attempt.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
On Writing 3/12/2009 09:56:00 AM
A good writer can write about virtually everything, or so it says. That pretty much explains why I can't write about most of everything. Beep, incorrect induction! But hell, the point is my writing sucks.
I know quite a lot of people who aspire to be a writer. They've dreamed about it ever since they're just little kids and they've spent a lifetime to nurture their skill to perfection. Interestingly, I used to write a lot, mostly horrors. It's kinda creepy when you think about it now, a nine year old writing about people being killed and then having their meat used as the main ingredient of a particularly tasty food, or about malevolent spirits coming to haunt a bunch of insolent campers. Anyway, I stopped writing upon entering junior high, so I didn't get a chance to nurture my "skill" like all those people.
Actually, I have what it takes to be a good writer. I ramble all the time (my poor family and friends know this very well). That's what writers do, don't they? They ramble about various topics. The problem is, readers would expect structures, plot, an idea neatly packaged in the form of narration. Not incessant babbling about random stuff, which is the best that I can offer.
Once upon a time in Writing class (which was curiously named "Journalism of Science"), the teacher told us about the importance of seizing the mood to write. Meaning, you have to force yourself to write something, anything, instead of waiting for the right moment or divine intervention saying, "Lo and behold, mortal! I've got this brilliant idea for you. Write it down, will ya?" He told us that writing about anything that came up to mind at any given time would be a good idea as to improve one's writing, if it's done constantly.
Oh, sure. No problemo. But after some time practicing this, when you're given the word "house", people would certainly want a story about some house instead of this incoherent account: "I've been living in the same house I've lived in since birth. It's located in a quiet neighborhood where everybody knows everybody. Some people have moved on, though. And so have their pets. To the other world, I mean. This family living near my house currently got themselves a new dog. I never really have problems with dogs, apart from being bitten several times by members of their kin. However, this dog bugs me to no end. It barks all night long. Thanks for making me awake in the middle of the night, doggie. It's not like I have a United live match to watch every night. I don't mind if there's one, though. It's my favorite club, Manchester United."
See, I jump from a "house" to "Manchester United" in a single paragraph. No structure whatsoever. Such way of writing is what I'm most comfortable with. In other words, as far as writing goes, I'm in big trouble.
Note: I'm tagging you because I want you to have a good laugh. So please. Hahaha.
I know quite a lot of people who aspire to be a writer. They've dreamed about it ever since they're just little kids and they've spent a lifetime to nurture their skill to perfection. Interestingly, I used to write a lot, mostly horrors. It's kinda creepy when you think about it now, a nine year old writing about people being killed and then having their meat used as the main ingredient of a particularly tasty food, or about malevolent spirits coming to haunt a bunch of insolent campers. Anyway, I stopped writing upon entering junior high, so I didn't get a chance to nurture my "skill" like all those people.
Actually, I have what it takes to be a good writer. I ramble all the time (my poor family and friends know this very well). That's what writers do, don't they? They ramble about various topics. The problem is, readers would expect structures, plot, an idea neatly packaged in the form of narration. Not incessant babbling about random stuff, which is the best that I can offer.
Once upon a time in Writing class (which was curiously named "Journalism of Science"), the teacher told us about the importance of seizing the mood to write. Meaning, you have to force yourself to write something, anything, instead of waiting for the right moment or divine intervention saying, "Lo and behold, mortal! I've got this brilliant idea for you. Write it down, will ya?" He told us that writing about anything that came up to mind at any given time would be a good idea as to improve one's writing, if it's done constantly.
Oh, sure. No problemo. But after some time practicing this, when you're given the word "house", people would certainly want a story about some house instead of this incoherent account: "I've been living in the same house I've lived in since birth. It's located in a quiet neighborhood where everybody knows everybody. Some people have moved on, though. And so have their pets. To the other world, I mean. This family living near my house currently got themselves a new dog. I never really have problems with dogs, apart from being bitten several times by members of their kin. However, this dog bugs me to no end. It barks all night long. Thanks for making me awake in the middle of the night, doggie. It's not like I have a United live match to watch every night. I don't mind if there's one, though. It's my favorite club, Manchester United."
See, I jump from a "house" to "Manchester United" in a single paragraph. No structure whatsoever. Such way of writing is what I'm most comfortable with. In other words, as far as writing goes, I'm in big trouble.
Note: I'm tagging you because I want you to have a good laugh. So please. Hahaha.