Recipe for a Contented Life 4/04/2012 08:03:00 AM

1. Be grateful for everything
2. Do not watch TV news report
3. Stop feeling as if you need to justify yourself and your actions to others

Consuming Life (Zygmunt Bauman) 3/22/2012 07:50:00 AM

Not a summary or a review, but my personal note, having read Consuming Life. A couple of aspects of postmodern/post-industrial/consuming life according to Bauman, as I understand them:

We're all commodities
Preoccupation with images, because if you're not white enough (it's an Asian thing), thin enough, hip enough (the Nikes, the Jimmy Choos, etc), you're out of the game. (What game? Social relationship, I think.) You are your image.

Pointilist nature of time
Emphasize on the here and now. Past and future hardly matter. (Modern people buy precious metals and houses, postmodern people buy designer stuff and refurbish their kitchen with stainless steel countertops even when they never cook.) Boredom is a vice. (Imagine office types who'd gladly get stuck in a traffic jam in order to go to some vacation spot, rather than spending time with their family to just talk and enjoy each other's company.) You consume to alleviate your boredom.

Quoting A Wild Sheep Chase 3/16/2012 03:37:00 PM

"I was twenty-nine years old. In six months my twenties would be over... One big blank. Not one thing of value had I gotten out of it, not one meaningful thing had I done. Boredom was all there was."

- Haruki Murakami, A Wild Sheep Chase -

George Orwell Said . . . 3/04/2012 01:05:00 AM

. . . this, about how to write (in his essay Politics and the English Language):

• Never use a metaphor, simile or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print.
• Never use a long word where a short one will do.
• If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out.
• Never use the passive where you can use the active.
• Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent.
• Break any of these rules sooner than say anything barbarous.

Sound, simple rules. I think I need to follow them.

The Manics Made Me Manic 3/01/2012 03:56:00 PM

I listened to this song in heavy rotation the other day:



Come the time to sleep, I just couldn't, because the song kept repeating itself over and over and over again inside my head. God knows Judge Yr'self is hardly the perfect lullaby.

Maybe I should listen to this song instead. Problem is, as much as I like Manic Street Preachers and love James Dean Bradfield('s voice), the idea of him singing a Wham! song simply reduces me to giggles. Thus, same effect as the above.

A word to the wise. Playing a single song on a loop for hours on end isn't a very good idea, no matter how much you enjoy that particular song. Now, where is that MP3 player . . . .

Note: Before you ask, no, I don't have "4REAL" tattooed on my arm and Karl Marx posters in my room.

We Don't Speak Dutch 2/24/2012 10:19:00 AM

For some reason, we got Dutch commentary for last night's Manchester United-Ajax game. Thank goodness it was switched to English halfway through the first half. It's not that I enjoy football commentary in particular, but hearing that oft-parodied language in the background of a United match was disturbing, to say the least.

"Oft-parodied", yes. You see, Republic of Indonesia was the Dutch East Indies once upon a time, and we didn't part ways in the best of terms. "We'll accept your claim of independence"--I can imagine the Crown said disdainfully--"if you pay the Dutch East Indies' debts. All of them." That's exactly what we did. And Indonesians disdainfully retaliate by reducing all Dutch to the role of blabbering bad guy almost every time they appear on motion picture/TV movies/literature.

Anyway, I don't know for sure what the Dutch's cultural strategy for this particular colony was, but I dare say it was markedly different from that employed by other colonial powers, the French, for example. The Dutch and their practicalities, you have to hand it to them, really. Why bother with the theoretical discourse about cultural superiority when one can opt for a more practical approach? Learning local custom, and then infiltrating them to foment discord or inspire submission, say? (The Dutch were great ethnographers.)

Long story short, the Dutch didn't promote their language in this part of the world and thus, Dutch--the language, I mean--had never really taken roots in Indonesia. In his memoir Doing Java, anthropologist Niels Mulder remarked how difficult it was in the late '60s-'70s to find Indonesians who were capable of conversing in foreign language (Dutch, English, German, anything). That was twenty, thirty odd years after we declared our independence. These days, many Indonesians understand English, but Dutch? Even my brother, who majored History and therefore was required to learn Dutch at college, only scoff at my notion that he should at least be able to read Dutch text.

As we enter the second decade of the 21st century, it is the East Asian languages that seem to generate interest amongst young Indonesians. As for Dutch, a small number of my country fellowmen/-women will keep on learning it, no doubt, but while Dutch once functioned as a status symbol of some sort, nowadays fluency in Dutch would probably only earn you respect reserved for speakers of "exotic" languages, on a par with Russian or Farsi perhaps. Not too bad, eh?

Pointless 2/01/2012 01:17:00 PM

I hardly watch TV these days. And when I do "tune in", more often that not it's for the English Premier League, which isn't exactly what you call local content. Between the dramas, the reality shows, and the newscasts, I don't know which one is worse.

Anyway, one program I dislike in particular is a curious specimen. It is . . . what? A talk show? If you define "talk show" as a program in which people talk incessantly, then yes, it is pretty much it, although "open forum" would be more accurate. But there's a catch. Its participants aren't just your typical laymen; they're lawyers. (They invite a few non-lawyers too, though, usually to share their tales of woe or to represent some government agency.) Week in, week out, they regale us mere mortals with their well-informed opinions on a wide range of topics, from the inner politics of our country's football governing body, to DUI (last night's topic).

Oh, did I say "well-informed opinions"? Well, not really. Sure, at times they pepper their observations with reference to this or that chapter from our legislation. But they're mainly saying what everybody else knows, like "There's no justice for the poor in our justice system," or "The government had let us down."

While I understand that people need to whine now and then about the dismal state our country is in--lighten the load, you know--I can't fathom why they would want to listen some guys (yes, they're mostly male) in fancy suits doing the same thing. I mean, the kind of talk you hear in that show, I imagine it's pretty common at coffee shops and public pavilions (poskamling) in the whole country. Of course, when you engage in a discussion in such places, you can always participate, put your two cents, and not just sit passively. Like I said, it's not as if those lawyers give you new and valuable insights to the matter at hand. (And even if they do, it's only rarely.)

But . . . I'm being unfair. After all, those lawyers are encouraged to spew forth lame comments. And if they end up having a shouting match with each other, the better. In fact, I suspect that that's what the moderator is after. Stir up a bit controversy, heat things up.

Oops, maybe I should shut up now. In case they sue me for libel or something.

Tale of Warrior 1/21/2012 05:54:00 PM

Do you know? Warriors Sport had made a deal with Liverpool FC, replacing their current sponsor, Adidas. You don't know? You don't care? Well, I reckon you won't, unless you're a LFC supporter. But anyway, this inconsequential piece of news reminded of something. A different kind of Warrior. Warrior shoes, to be precise.

Now, if you happened to go to public schools in Bandung in the '90s, I'm sure you would know what those are. Warrior shoes were the select regulation shoes at that time. They were cheap, they were made in China, and by God how I used to hate them. They had too many eyelets, their green insoles made your white socks (yes, only white socks were allowed) all grenish, and after a week of use they would definitely let wetness seep in from underneath--which is why Warriors were hardly the shoes of choice for angkot-taking school children in a relatively wet city in a tropical country.

The (in)famous Warrior Shoes

The funny thing was, school regulation didn't actually necessitate the use of that particular brand, but rather, a specific style--black high-tops canvas shoes. A couple of school mates ended up wearing New Balance or Converse, which were maybe five times more expensive than Warrior. Completely defeats the purpose, methinks.

Anyway, if someone were to ask me to pick out regulation shoes, I'd choose Chinmi shoes, or kung-fu shoes, or whatever it is that you call them. They're Chinese, too, and really cool. Okay, so they let water in as well, but at least Bruce Lee wore them. What more can you ask?

Going Solo part 1 1/05/2012 04:43:00 PM

Visiting Indonesia, he got to understand his country a bit more, Malaysian writer Karim Raslan once said. The reverse could be applied to me: visiting Malaysia helps me understand what my country--Indonesia--is all about. Sort of.

My quest for solo adventure began when I realized, belatedly, that my passport would soon to be useless. My passport would expire in eight months, and it's still empty. I reckoned it would be awkward when the time comes to renew my passport and the immigration official finds it yet to be used. Where to go then? The common opinion was Singapore, but what the heck would I do there? Shopping? Gawking at its modernity and displaying what a bumpkin I am? Thanks, but I'll pass. The next candidate was Malaysia. It's close, I don't need a visa to visit the country, and my parents wouldn't needlessly fuss over it too much (what with it being my first time abroad and all by myself to boot, my attempt at coaxing a friend to join me had previously failed). So Malaysia it is. I've been wanting to go to Malacca for some time, and a friend said that Penang is a must-see. So up I went.

Landing at Penang after a two-hour flight, I was greeted by a blast of humid air upon stepping out of the airport. It's a small island after all, I mused, with sea all around it. The arrival of Rapid Penang bus soon afterwards confirmed that I was indeed in a foreign country. Indonesian buses aren't much to look at, but Rapid Penang is so sleek and clean, and . . . Oh, look! Gigantic letters of T, E, S, C, and O on a strip mall! Not just any foreign country then, but a foreign country that was once a British colony!

The bus took me cruising down neat, wide streets to the conspicuous KOMTAR--Kompleks Tun Abdul Razak, named after the former Prime Minister--the tallest building on the island, in Georgetown. I had a map in my person, but thanks to my terrible sense of direction, I got lost within five minutes of getting off the bus. The fact that Malaysian road signs are parallel to the street--in contrast to those in Indonesia, which are perpendicular to the street--didn't help either.

After a couple of wrong turns--well, more than a couple--I finally found the place I was meant to stay in. When my declaration of having made a reservation in Bahasa Indonesia was met by blank stare from the attendant, I realized once again that despite the linguistic similarity, despite the common roots, Bahasa Indonesia and Malaysian Malay are two different entities, mirroring two different paths the two nations had taken.

to be continued when i feel like writing again . . . .

The Painted Veil (W. Somerset Maugham) 11/14/2011 04:24:00 PM

I picked this book for one reason, and one reason only: because I love the movie. Naomi Watts and Edward Norton delivered superb performance, the depiction of interior China was beautiful, and the story was romantic. And I don’t use the word “romantic” lightly, mind you. Bearing that in mind, imagine how I felt when I realized the book was crucially different from its motion picture counterpart.

The main character is a young woman named Kitty. She was almost past marriageable age (twenty-five years old!), and to make matters worse, her younger--and less beautiful--sister had just gotten engaged. So, Kitty did what every sensible woman would do under the circumstances: she jumped the gun with the first guy who proposed! Enter Walter Fane, an uptight “man of science” serving in the colony of Tching-Yen (Hong Kong upon first publication, but under the threat of libel from someone of the same name, it became a fictitious colony instead).

The problem is, Kitty was the kind of person who couldn’t see a man beyond his charm and good looks, of which Walter had none. Little wonder that she fell for the dashing Assistant Colonial Secretary, Charles Townsend. They had an affair, Walter found out, and then came the ultimatum: either he filed for divorce on the ground of adultery, or she came with him to Mei-tan-fu, a remote town ransacked by cholera epidemic. In the end, Kitty had no choice but to go with the latter option, just like Walter knew she would (because Townsend’s just fooling around with her, in any case): this would be her punishment.

It is at this point that the movie deviated from the original work. Away from the world, movie-Kitty and Walter saw each other in a way that they never had before, and found it in themselves to forgive each other. In the book, what happened, I think, was some sort of self discovery. It didn’t bring happiness to the couple, though.

And while we’re talking about unhappiness, I have to say that I’m not quite sure what Walter wanted to convey on his deathbed. He said, “The dog it was that died,” which is a reference to Oliver Goldsmith’s An Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog. It strikes me not as words of regret, more like recognizing and accepting the inevitable--his futile love and Kitty’s flaws. (Does it make any sense?)

To me, Kitty’s understanding of herself was a pivotal point in the book. She’s shallow, and she acknowledged and accepted that. I imagine that’s how things work in real life most of the time. You don’t go to a secluded place and suddenly reform your “wicked” ways, but sometimes you do get to see yourself for what you really are. Yes, the movie is sweet, but the book is more poignant because the characters didn’t change. There’s no love and forgiveness, only regret.

Fancying a Footballer 11/06/2011 12:43:00 AM

Phil Jones is a very talented young player. He’s a tough defender, he can pass, he can run, he reads the game well. Oh, and he happens to be rather cute. I want to smack myself as I’m writing this.

The last time I was smitten by a footballer was . . . . . Becks, circa 1996. That was before he hooked up with his Spice Girl (future) wife and became a global celebrity, mind you. And thankfully, it didn’t last long. (I believe it was less than a season.) Anyway, it was a different era altogether. I was a kid, newly initiated to the cult of Manchester United--which is a good thing--but at that time I also listened to boybands. You get my drift.

When I was younger, people were more skeptical about girls who like football. It didn’t help that some girls boldly announce that they watched football because of this player or that player, who were good-looking.

The problem with me--or rather, the good thing about me--was, more often than not, I don’t even realize it if a player is good looking. I mean, it’s hard to, even if I want to. If you love football as much as I do, you’d spontaneously focus on the flow of the game, the teams’ build-up play, individual contribution, anything but the handsomeness or the ugliness of a player.

Question: Would I even notice Jonesy’s cuteness if he showed less than brilliant performance for United so far? I don’t think so. End of story.

OCD 10/08/2011 05:21:00 PM

Check mailbox
Check cellphone

Tweet
Type type type

Upload photo
Change picture profile

Refresh

Walls Come Tumbling Down 9/27/2011 11:05:00 AM

There's this shopping center that I used to go to as a kid. I remember my parents taking me to the game center on the uppermost floor. I remember getting a copy of Blur's The Great Escape from a record store there. As the city's center of commerce moved away from that particular location, it was attracting less and less visitors until finally, around 2000, it was closed down for good. Now, all that's left is a dilapidated building, an empty shell.

A sight like this always pains me immensely. And my hometown has lots of it. Once grand houses now encroached by weeds, old cinemas with collapsed roof and weathered facade, gloomy shops with nearly-empty display. Whenever I see them, I wonder. What kind of people spent their time there, how they lived their lives.

As I understand it, buildings are more than just bricks and mortar. They are made of people's hopes and dreams. It doesn't matter what you think about today's developers and their tasteless strip malls and uniformed houses, but there's a reason why property always sells. It gives a sense--or an illusion, rather--of permanence, in an ever-changing world.

Maybe that's why a state of abandon bothers me so much. Because I know in some not-very-unconscious level, those buildings are testaments of forgotten dreams, a reminder of our own fleeting existence. And that one day, everything that we've built with hard work will crumble. And that we, too, will vanish without a trace.

Notes: The title is ripped off shamelessly from a Style Council song. No copyright infringement intended.

It Doesn't Work! 7/12/2011 01:11:00 PM

Some ideas are good when you think about them in your head. But once you try put them on paper, it all falls apart.

That's what's been happening with me for the last three months or so. I've got these interesting thoughts in my mind that need addressing. Things every Indonesians have in common no matter where they live, how some signs (e.g. photographs) become empty signifiers in the digital age, nasty bashing on the internet, etc.

When I tried to write them down though, the piece end up being dull, lifeless and pointless. And I scratched my head, asking to myself, "Er, why did I write that again?"

Which probably means that the idea is too raw, I still need to work it out. Bah!

Once (John Carney) - part 2 3/01/2011 11:33:00 PM

-----Part 1-----

As I have mentioned in my previous installment, Once has its defining moment when the possibility of further romantic development between its two characters was squashed, for good and for the better. It's this scene that I'm talking about:

During the break in between their recording sessions, the girl went out of the studio and found a grand piano in a darkened room. Noticing her there, the guy asked her to play one of the songs she's written. She sang and played a song about the frustration at a relationship that didn't work, but stopped midway when her feelings became too overwhelming.

In your typical romantic drama, a darkened room and a damsel in distress is a sure recipe for the ensuing kiss. However, in Once, that situation didn't lead to anything more than the guy providing comfort for the girl. Thus, the film is saved from the cliché ending we've watched too many times before. Besides, I think it's going to be paradoxical if the movie doesn't end with the girl being reunited with her husband, considering that one of the songs ("Falling Slowly") is about saving "this sinking boat and point it home."

But of course, it's not simply the plot or the ending that makes Once such a good movie. There's the music, obviously. The songs are pleasant to the ears and they are performed beautifully. The actors' acting quality is okay, I guess, but their musical performance is brilliant. Maybe it has something to do with their being professional musicians in real life. (To put it in another way, musicians first, actors second.) Some musicals use songs as tools for storytelling, but in Once, songs are incorporated in a natural fashion. Songs were sung because the characters were busking, or rehearsing their performance for the upcoming recording session, or trying out a duet at the music shop. This movie is more on the lines of The Sound of Music, say, than Grease or Mamma Mia.

Another thing about this movie that merits a credit is its ability to portray what should've been the dispiriting aspects of life--represented by backdrops such as the once-grand houses turned into flats or cramped workshop filled with broken vacuum cleaners--without leaving the audience with a sense of dejection. The general atmosphere is of optimism and warm feelings, as apparent in the girl's openness and cheerfulness, despite a life that was definitely not easy, having to work two jobs to support her child and mother in a foreign country.

To sum it all up, this is one movie you've got to watch. Elegantly simple, unpretentious, and yet profound.

Once (John Carney) - part 1 3/01/2011 10:18:00 PM

Note: This installment is divided into two parts. The first is a synopsis, pretty much. The second part consists of my personal opinion about the movie.

A guy and a girl met on the street of Paris, fell in love, and then lived happily ever after. How's that for a story! Well, Once is a story about a girl and a guy, alright. And they did fall in love with each other, sort of. And maybe they really lived happily ever after anyway, just not together. And the city is Dublin, not Paris. (God knows why people dub that particular place "the city of love". Why not Pondicherry, or Perth, or Portsmouth?)

So, a struggling singer-songwriter was out busking one evening, singing quite emotionally at the top of his lungs, when a girl came up to him and commended his performance. (These two shall remain nameless to the end.) The praise was taken rather sarcastically though, since the girl only gave her 10 cents. The girl retorted that if he's only into making money, he should've got a job in a shop or something. The guy said that he did have a job repairing vacuum cleaners. As chance would have it, the girl had a broken vacuum at home. She cheerily promised to come by again the next day with her vacuum in tow so that he could fix it up for her.

This initial exchange led to a friendship. The guy eventually found out that the girl was a musician (although she didn't identify herself as one, merely stating that she knew "a little" about music), playing the piano. And the girl found out that the guy's songs were inspired by an ex-girlfriend, who had cheated on him with another man and was living in London at present. Noticing that he hadn't been over her, the girl suggested that he followed her to London. She also pointed out that he should've tried to push his music through a record company or something, considering how good it was.

Although reluctant at first, the guy finally decided to go to London to pursue both goals--winning his girlfriend back and making a music career--but not before he made a proper demo tape. With the help of the girl and three other street musicians, he got to a recording studio and played his songs for taping, even winning the support of the previously apathetic studio engineer.

All through the movie, you can see how the two main characters' feelings for each other developed. One particular scene in this respect is when the guy asked the girl how to say "Do you love him?" in Czech, "him" being her husband back home in her old country. (Surprise, surprise, the girl's got a husband. Yes, she had a kid, but the audience--well, I, anyway--were led to believe that she was unmarried.) After answering, the girl said another thing in Czech but refused to translate it for him. What she said was, "It is you I love."

However, the feelings they had for each other didn't materialize into something more. After they finished recording, the guy invited the girl to hang out with him, since he's going to London the next day. She refused and said that it would only end up in a "hanky-panky", which would be worthless, at any rate. She also revealed that his husband's coming to Ireland, and that they're going to try to work things out. Even though she promised to come over to his place that evening, she stood him up in the end. He failed to meet her one last time prior to his departure, and there's no tearful reunion in the airport, either.

The penultimate scenes of the movie showed the guy going away to catch his flight with wistful smile on his face, while a piano--a gift from him--was delivered to the girl's home, received with much appreciation on her part.

I can't say that I'm surprised or disappointed with the movie's somewhat "unresolved" ending, though. A defining moment in the studio room ensured that that's how the movie's going to end. Thank goodness for that, or else it's going to be just your average romantic flick instead of the truly memorable movie that it is.

-----Part 2-----

Another I-Want-to-Watch-These-Movies List 1/07/2011 10:51:00 PM

Every now and then I compile a list of movies I’m dying to watch but haven’t, due to (non)availability. They’re either released a long, long time ago, rendering it extremely difficult to obtain the video/DVD, or non-Hollywood. And as you all know, just a very small number of non-American movies are released here in Indonesia, either in theatrical release or DVD/video.
So, without further ado, here they are:

1) Beck
This movie was released last year, I think. It’s a Japanese movie about five guys from a band called Beck (a.k.a Mongolian Chop Squad), trying to make it in the music world. This one’s an adaptation from a shounen manga by Harold Sakuishi. I quite enjoy the manga, that’s why I’m looking forward to the live-action movie. Rumor has it that Blitz Megaplex is trying to get the right to play this movie in their cinema. I only hope that it’s true! (Speaking about the manga, Sakuishi-sensei modified famous music album covers for the opening page of the manga’s chapters. My favorite is this, which is a homage for Oasis’s Definitely Maybe.

Comment: Mediocre. But what they did with Koyuki's singing voice is commendable. (Since his voice is supposed to be really good, whenever he sings, the audio is muted. It's up to us, the audience, to imagine how beautiful it is.) Better stick to reading the manga.

2) Linda, Linda, Linda
Another Japanese movie about music. A group of Japanese high-school girls found their band in need of a guitar player, their guitarist suffering an injury, a short time before the cultural festival. In this time of need, they had no choice but to ask help from a foreign-exchange student from Korea. Not too special, but this is pretty much the type of movie that can make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Comment: Amazing. The movie is slow-moving, but it's never boring. The story and the acting are so natural that you don't feel like watching a movie, just a slice of life. And Paran Maum is very cool, just like a punk band should be!

3) Ningen Shikkaku
Literally translates to “no longer qualified as human”, this is a movie adaptation of Dazai Osamu’s most famous and last novel. Considered to be semi-autobiographical, it’s about a young man who suffered a psychological trauma as child, spending his life in depression and debauchery. This is a movie worth to watch, if only for the privilege to see Ikuta Toma’s face on the big screen ;p.

4) Rashomon
Kurosawa Akira. Legend. Enough said.

Comment: Not as satisfying as I hoped it would be, due to over-expectation on my part. And since I'm already familiar with the plot, having read Akutagawa's short story, the movie didn't really give me that sense of wonder and shock. I'm sorry, Kurosawa-sensei.

5) Some Kind of Wonderful
Your typical John Hughes movie about a boy and a girl. This girl and that boy have been best friends forever. The tomboyish girl falls in love with the boy, but the boy falls for the beautiful, popular girl in the neighborhood. The tomboyish girl tries to help her friend winning the heart of that popular girl, but then . . . . The ending is quite obvious, really. Not to mention that it is more than just a little corny. Sorry, but I simply can’t help being a corny person and loving corny movies :p.

Comment: It really gives you warm and fuzzy feeling inside. I'm constantly amazed at how John Hughes managed to capture the day-to-day struggle of being a teenager--falling in love, anxiety over your look, aspiration for the future--without resorting to the ridiculous or the crasss *cough*American Pie*cough*. Simply put, I love the movie.

Sing Before You're Winning 12/25/2010 10:32:00 PM

There's something very unpalatable about the hype surrounding Indonesia football team's progress in the AFF Cup. Everything has been so blown out of proportion thanks to PSSI and its infinite wisdom, no to mention the media and its insightfulness.

One victory ignited everything. The national team won by four-goal margin against Malaysia. This is surprising, considering that Malaysia isn't that weak of a team compared to us to begin with.

The media wasted no time at all to make the most use of it. While the pre-match news was primarily about precautionary steps taken by the Local Organizing Committee to prevent potential clash between Indonesian and Malaysian supporters, post-match reports were full of praises for the national team. As the team smoothly went further in the tournament, the media became more and more enthusiastic in their reports. By the sheer magnitude of it, one would've thought that we'd won the World Cup!

In no time at all, our gullible public started to fancy the team and the players whom several days before they couldn't care less about. Gelora Bung Karno suddenly found itself teeming with people battling to get their hands on match tickets. "Battling” is certainly not an overstatement here. What's with all the pushing and shoving, topped with PSSI's superb ticket distribution system, the GBK ground very much resembled a battling ground, even a plaza in riot a couple of times.

PSSI is no less quick in taking advantage of the situation. The PSSI Chief promptly laid claim to the national team's success, when everyone who has the slightest knowledge about Indonesian football can clearly see that we owe that thanks to the Head Coach Alfred Riedl. And seeing the enthusiasm of the masses, they raised the ticket prices without hesitation. It's quite funny really, to see that the ticket price to GBK is more expensive than that of corresponding category to the Bukit Jalil Stadium in Kuala Lumpur, when Bukit Jalil has better seats and facility for spectators.

You think it's all there is to it? Not even close. For some reason those friendly guys in PSSI allowed their good buddy Aburizal Bakrie to invite all of the team to his house for breakfast (or is it lunch?). You really have to wonder. Why did someone who never showed any inclination towards football--apart from a somewhat frail connection to the sport: his brother owns a football club--come up with this gesture all of a sudden? He happens to be one of the wealthiest men in the country and probably a strong candidate for the presidency in 2014 General Election (God save us all!), though, if those things count.

And just when I thought things couldn't get more absurd than that, the PSSI Chief dragged the players to a pesantren in Jakarta for this prayer ceremony thingy two nights ago. I don't know if he's real pious or just plain stupid. At such late hour players should've been taking a rest, not going around for a night stroll. What all due respect, can't they just pray together in the place where they're staying?

For the sake of the players and the coaching staff, I do hope that they win the cup. PSSI, politicians, the media, and those glory-seeker supporters would readily bask in their glory whenever an opportunity presented itself. As soon as the team fails to live up to expectations, though, these people are the ones who would throw them away most easily. Just like that.

Cut Out with the Handshake, Cut Out with the Joke 11/12/2010 10:31:00 AM

This post is written in a rage. Amazing what anger can do to your creativity.

So. I just watched Indonesia This Morning on Metro TV, and one of the news was about Tifatul Sembiring's handshake with Michelle Obama. Some media in Indonesia and the US make a big deal out of it, apparently. In fact, the story is deemed remarkable enough that Stephen Colbert--comedian and political satirist--made a note to mention it in his program, The Colbert Report.

Given the nature of his show, of course he took it upon himself to treat the whole handshaking business as a joke. And then he continued by quoting a passage from some article saying about how Indonesians swarmed Facebook and Twitter to criticize the Minister of Information for his hypocrisy.

I must say that I don't care about what Mr. Sembiring does. He can choose to shake or not to shake hands with women, or he can take a third wife, for all I care. As long s he doesn't mess up in his job, I couldn't care less. But I do mind with what Colbert said next. I don't remember his exact words, but it was more or less like this: "Facebook and Twitter? I always picture Indonesians banging coconuts to a log."

Needless to say, I was (and still am) incensed. What the hell was that? What the hell does he think we are? Savages? Monkeys? (Although I don't know if monkeys communicate by banging coconuts on a log, that's hardly the point, is it?) Honestly, I think it's racist and degrading and not funny at all. His studio audience shared a different opinion, obviously.

People would no doubt say "Don't you have a sense of humor? It's just a joke!" No, I don't have a sense of humor when it's my national identity that is trampled upon. Americans--obsessed with political correctness--are very sensitive when it comes to making jokes about African-Americans and Jews. But is it alright to make fun of everybody else?

Football-crazed 7/11/2010 03:19:00 PM

"I fell in love with football as I was later to fall in love with women: suddenly, inexplicably, uncritically..." Nick Hornby, Fever Pitch

For me, the defining moment might've been that day when Persib passed the street near my school on parade after winning the first ever Liga Indonesia. Or maybe it was the time I watched in awe as Brazil trashed Italy in that penalty shoot-outs that guaranteed their fourth World Cup title. Or during that time I saw Steve McManaman dribble his way through the defending team's right flank in a Euro '96 live coverage. All I know is that somewhere along the way, I deeply fell in love with football.

In rare moments of contemplation, I wondered to myself why I enjoy football very much. Does it have something to do with availability and constant exposure to the game? I don't think so, really. Just look at my younger brother. He's not the least interested in football even though he avidly watched Captain Tsubasa when he was a kid and played regularly at school. Not to mention that he has a Manchester United maniac of a sister. When you don't get it you just don't, regardless of the "availability and constant exposure". Therefore, when a friend asked me--quite innocently--what it was that I found so irresistibly interesting about watching twenty-two people chase one dirty ball around the field, I responded with a smart "Dunno." Because I truly don't know.

My inability to eloquently express the beauty of football, I suspect, is inextricably linked with the fact that I am not what you'd call an “analytical spectator”. Some people enjoy football in logical, detached way. They'd make a song and dance about the philosophical, sociological, and psychological importance of football, peruse all sorts of tactical setup, and they'd be upset when football teams replace perfection with pragmatism.

Well, I'm not them. I'd be elated when my team win and upset--at times angry--when they lost. I'd question the manager's strategy or blame a particular player (Sorry, Fletch!) when they had a draw against the supposedly inferior team. It's that simple. My devotion to a football team comes from irrational love, not critical thinking. I love football like I love . . . noodle, say. Noodle is tasty. What's so tasty about noodle? How the heck can I explain that? I'm not a connoisseur. You just have to try it for yourself, and if you don't like it, it's simply not the food for you. The same goes for football.

Football, computer games, traveling, collecting stamps, or whatever--we all have our very own little obsession. I prefer enjoying it than trying to rationalize it, period.