Home at last. For now.

Somehow, I got stuck in life.

A friend from the other side of US went visiting, and I should have met her. Or at least explained why I could not meet her. But I didn't. The day come and go, I should have texted her and informed her way before that it wasn't possible to meet because of my new job. But I didn't. On her last day here I should have told her how sorry I was that I couldn't see her. But I didn't. I wanted to tell her the craziest work day that happened on the day we were supposed to meet. I got locked in in the bathroom, I was late for the bus and spend an hour waiting for the next bus while crying and cussing over my situation, and by the time I got home I convinced my husband to take me back to the office because I was certain that I did not lock the door properly. My friend and I would have had a good laugh over it, but we didn't. Because I didn't tell her anything.

The next day passed, and she returned home. I should have texted her by then. But I didn't. I kept on telling myself that I will text her the next day. But I didn't. A whole week passed and I still didn't contact her. Just as I choose to ignore other messages from my friends. I couldn't deal with them. It was too emotionally taxating. Life was too much for me. Even before I got the job I was already retreating into myself, slowly but sure shunning the world. I don't even know why. Life is good. It has always been. So why the sorrow? Why the lethargic indifference?

Then we decided to buy a Durga statue on a whim. As I decorated it with flowers as offering I realized what was missing from my life.

In a land where everything is within my reach, I have lost myself. Where before I live almost solely for survival, now I am spoiled with choices and options. It had become "whatever I want", and no longer "whatever I need". As with the junk processed food that is easily in my reach and saturated my body with the dangerous chemical, so does the choices available to pleasure myself. Like a glutton I rejoice in all, even though deep down inside I knew what was happening. I no longer live for myself, for what I believe. I had become a creature of desire, greedily wanting everything and thus stuck in the mirage that was made for someone else's profit. I have lost my simple life. My meaningful life. 

No more I rejoice the morning sun. No more simple guilty pleasure to splurge myself once in a while, and how proud and happy it made me feel. No more saving up for a treat, and the delight it made me feel. No more driving in the rain and singing "I'm Only Happy When it Rains". No more smug and the feel of living on the edge when drinking a can of beer. And worst of all, the utter loneliness inside. My heart slowly but sure turned into a black hole that wants everything, sucks everything without any consideration. It was no longer a battle to prove myself, a daily effort to keep existing in this life. It was "I". "I" that is entitled to everything simply because of the fact that he/she exist. And with every wants and demands that got fulfilled with minimal effort my "I" grew bigger and more loathsome, until I can't take it anymore. I hated her. I hated me.

The statue, the flower offering, the incense and the prayer reminded of who I was before. In a book that I read, the main character said that God is in the man's heart. In Hinduism we believe that our soul is actually a fraction of Himself. That night I prayed. That night I found a tiny sliver of my old self. The one with dreams and empathy. The one that looked at the world full of wonder and love. The one that was truly alive.

If words and thoughts have weight, which I am sure they have, it is not difficult to imagine the power of praying. The first time I visited the temple in LA's Chinatown I was overwhelmed with the feeling inside it. It was as if every nook and crane of the temple was filled with incense smoke and thoughts and prayer. I almost wept, swamped by emotions inside me. Now imagine a land, a country so big where prayers were said daily. A place where beliefs about spirits and nature as a living thing is the norm. Imagine living your life surrounded by those thoughts, those hopes, those prayers. Imagine living knowing fully well that you are a mere insignificant cog in this giant mechanism called Universe, yet you are substantial enough to change the life of people around you. Wouldn't you want to be there?

It was easy enough in Bali, a true fairyland where the impossible can come to life and the old wives tale came true. In an island so steeped in ancient belief to an extent that it pretty much dictate people's daily life, in an island where old temples still exist and people dutifully came to pray (which provides fresh batch of thoughts and prayers, thus prolonged its existence), I was no longer human. I was just a thing in this beautiful universe, and I was happy for my existence. But even in the capital city Jakarta, a sprawling metropolis larger than Los Angeles, I never felt alone nor lost. The prayers were abundant thanks to the Muslim's daily prayers, and the belief for spirits and nature as a complex being was still there too albeit minimum. To add, the struggle was real, and you either end up feeling thankful for what you have, or feeling genuinely sorry for what other people don't have. It was not just about thoughts and prayers, it was also about willingness to live and brute determination to make every day counts. 

My existence is not measured on what "I" have achieved or what "I" have owned. My existence lies on my ability to work with all aspects, all the cogs both seen and unseen in the complex machinery called Universe. Every little thoughts count. Every little prayers count. Every little respects count. It was simple, and I have forgotten about it.

I yearned to rest myself once again in that magical land where spirits roam and human live. I dreamed of the day where I would once again knelt and prayed at Puras, humbled and honored to be there to give my respect. I hoped to spend my life surrounded with prayers and hopes and dreams, none too small or irrelevant as every thoughts count. I longed to be alive once more, to be a complete human once more. Alas, I am not there. I am so far away to where I belong, and slowly but sure I feel myself sinking further into non-existence. Trapped like ice age mammals in tar pits thousands of years ago. I feel myself hating me more each day, and the disappointment spread like a bad bruise on an apple that eventually will left it inedible. I hate myself even though I don't know who myself anymore. Such an irony. I feel like I am beyond salvation. I am too far away from home.

Tonight we prayed to Durga and Shiva, and a brief calmness bloomed in my heart. This is home. A small, very small part; but this is the home that I know. A place where we looked up and surrender our hopes and dreams to the universe, yet continue to fight for them. A place where prayers is abundance and respect for life and the universe is flowing. I touched the feet of the little Durga statue with my finger tip and lovingly put that finger tip on my forehead, lips, and my heart. I missed Her. I missed my home. Then I opened my eyes and saw my husband gazing lovingly yet full of respect to the Durga statue. He looked at me and our eyes met. We smiled and took each other's hand. We will return one day to our magical land, and we will be human, complete human again. But that would wait. We both looked at beautiful Durga and honorable Shiva on the makeshift altar, and sighed in relief. This is home. For now.

Pencurian Pencapaian: Beranikah Kita Bersikap?

"The images are copyrighted and should not be posted online. Can you please provide me with the website, etc., where you found the images, so I can forward to my attorney? Thank you!"

Ack... Kok jadi rempong begini??

Jadi ceritanya saya menemukan gambar berlisensi di album Facebook orang lain. Pada tahu kan kalau di Facebook sekarang lagi gencar banget posting album foto? Tujuannya jelas, anda harus ngeshare album tersebut agar bisa anda simpan linknya di Facebook anda, yang mana meningkatkan traffic si empunya album tersebut. Sangat berguna kalau anda kebetulan jualan barang online, mau dapat tambahan penghasilan dari iklan, atau memang cuma haus kasih sayang eh perhatian. Sayangnya kebanyakan foto/gambar tersebut nyolong dari punya orang lain. Walau nggak ada watermark/logo yang punya pun kelihatan kok kalau itu album ngambil dari sumber yang berbeda karena pengambilan gambarnya pun berbeda. Beberapa yang jelas-jelas ada watermarknya pun dengan ceria dicuekin dan tidak ada credit untuk pembuat aslinya sama sekali. Pas saya ketemu gambar yang berlisensi ini saya iseng mengontak empunya, saya pikir dia cuma akan report ke Facebook agar gambar tersebut dicabut, eh ternyata mau bawa-bawa attorney segala. Waduh!!

Pasti anda berpikir, "Lagian iseng banget sih!" dan "Ga kasian sama orang lain!!" Percaya deh, waktu saya mendapat respon bahwa mereka mau pake attorney saya pun langsung menyesali keputusan saya untuk iseng. Paling tidak selama lima menitan lah. Saya pun berusaha 'membetulkan' keputusan saya dengan menginfokan mereka kalau orang ini nggak bermaksud jahat, dan cukup diinfo ke Facebook juga itu gambar bakal dicabut sama Facebook. Saya juga bilang gambar-gambar tersebut mungkin sudah dishare beribu kali jadi kalau memang mau memberantasnya pakai program seperti TinEye dan sekalian ngejar semua yang ngeshare agar tidak cuma orang ini aja yang kena. Hmm... Kalau dipikir-pikir sebenarnya saya memperparah ya. 

Kayaknya munafik banget ya, saya yang masih rajin beli DVD bajakan dan mengunduh buku/program yang gratisan kok malah ngaduin orang lain soal hak cipta. Dulu pas kuliah juga buku kuliah banyak beli fotokopian. Nggak sopan dong sekarang saya ngaduin orang lain kalau saya juga berbuat. Saya merenungkan ini seharian penuh. Kenapa saya merasa tidak apa-apa kalau pakai barang bajakan, tapi saya marah saat orang lain juga membajak? Apa bedanya barang bajakan yang saya pakai dan pembajakan foto/karya di fesbuk? Ini juga bukan sekali dua atau baru-baru ini ya. Dari dulu saya paling benci plagiarisme dan pencolongan karya orang lain, tapi ya itu tadi, beli DVD bajakan dan baca komik online gratisan jalan terus. Bingung kan?

Mungkin yang paling berasa adalah pencurian pencapaian. Setelah (mencoba) menjadi full time writer, saya berasa banget akan susahnya membuat sesuatu. Menulis blog seperti ini saja harus berpikir keras, karena sangat penting menarik pembaca dan membuat mereka menyukai karya saya ini. Nggak cuma ketik-ketik kelar. Sudah begitu masih harus diamankan dari orang-orang yang mungkin klepto dan suka copas seenaknya. Dari sewaktu saya masih kerja di Indonesia pun saya akan berusaha sebisa mungkin mengamankan hasil kerja saya, nggak apa-apa disharing dan dipakai selama saya masih bisa bilang "itu punyaku lho!". Paling tidak hasil karya saya dihargai, nggak tiba-tiba saya yang buat setengah mati lalu ada yang mengaku-ngaku. Itulah yang mendasari kesebelan saya terhadap orang-orang yang main posting gambar yang nyolong dari Internet, karena tanpa kredit/penulisan sumber yang sepantasnya seolah mereka (pembuat album) yang kreatif sekali dan mendapat segala puja-puji (dan iklan etc), sementara si pembuat aslinya hilang entah kemana.

"Tapi kan mencari gambar tersebut juga usaha!" Lah iya, terus apa susahnya sedikit lagi diteruskan usahanya dengan memberi link dimana gambar tersebut didapatkan? Apalagi kalau didapat dari website yang mungkin hitnya juga tidak banyak. Jujur, kalau DVD atau buku kuliah buatan perusahaan besar nurani saya tidak terlalu resah karena biasanya si penulis/pembuat film dan aktor/aktrisnya beserta segala yang terlibat sudah dibayar full. Apalagi di Indonesia yang menonton film dan beli buku itu mahal dan sulit. Kalau disini yang cuma bayar $8 perbulan bisa menonton film di Netflix sampai mampus sih beli DVD bajakan yang $5 dapat 3 itu rasanya rugi. Streaming film HighDef pun cuma $2.99 di Vudu, dan itu udah pasti nggak ada kepala orang yang lewat-lewat dan gambar yang goyang syalala. Buku disini bisa pinjam di perpustakaan, atau beli buku bekas cuma 50 sen ($0.50), jadi namanya mengunduh buku gratisan juga nyaris nggak perlu. Ayo pemerintah Indonesia perbaiki infrastruktur, kasihanilah kami yang ingin maju!! Lho, kok jadi melenceng hohoho...

Tapi baik di Indonesia maupun di Amrik sini, lain cerita kalau soal karya dari penulis/artis yang self-publish atau masih berusaha menjual namanya sendiri. Saya pernah mendapat pekerjaan sebagai penulis blog disini, tapi baru 5 artikel saya sudah keok karena tidak sanggup membuat karya secepat itu. Ceritanya kan saya idealis, pokoknya target pribadi 2 artikel seminggu dan nggak boleh nyontek karya orang lain! Ternyata nggak semudah itu lho mencari ide baru dan menuliskannya. Waktu iseng membaca situs berita/informasi Indonesia, ternyata banyak yang cuma copas dan translate dari artikel sini. Gubrak. Nggak pakai mencantumkan itu sumbernya dari mana pula. Dobel gubrak. Makanya banyak artikel yang menganjurkan makan Celery biar sehat (padahal saya jarang banget lihat celery di supermarket Indonesia, dan itu barang mahal pula), bikin kue pake nutella (siapa sih yang sanggup beli nutella tiap hari di Indonesia, kenapa nggak pake meses aja gitu), dan segenap info 'bermanfaat' lainnya. 'Bermanfaat' tanda kutip, karena mungkin nggak bisa dipakai di Indonesia. Penulis dan pekarya idealis macam saya berusaha membuat karya orisinal untuk menampilkan siapa kami, bikin website pun sekedar ingin berusaha dikenal agar orang mau membeli karya kami; kalau anda seenaknya copas atau mengambil karya kami tanpa ijin (dan mengaku karya anda), kasihan kami dong.

Sebenarnya mau penulis/pekarya pemula atau yang sudah ternama, pencurian seperti ini tidak bisa dibenarkan. Saya bilang pencurian karena memang ini pencurian ya, anda tidak bisa menjustifikasi/membenarkan hal ini dengan hanya "Cuma gambar/artikel, apa sih masalahnya?". Waktu anda memfotokopi buku kuliah atau membeli DVD bajakan (yang tetap salah, btw), si penjual tidak bilang bahwa mereka yang membuat buku/film/program komputer tersebut; hak cipta dan pencapaiannya tetap milik si pembuat karya. Waktu anda copy paste artikel/gambar dan menggunakannya untuk kepentingan anda sendiri tanpa memberi kredit yang sepantasnya, anda menghilangkan pencapaian si pembuat karya dan merampas hak cipta mereka. Cuma menulis "dari berbagai sumber" itu tidak membantu lho. Siapa pembuat aslinya tetap tidak diketahui. Bahkan di Amerika sini pun yang bisa menuntut dengan riang gembira, tidak selalu mudah menuntut hak cipta anda. Walau 'attorney'/pengacara itu terdengar horor, tapi kemungkinan mereka bisa menuntut orang ini (yang dari negara lain juga) dan sukses mendapatkan bayaran dari orang ini sangat kecil.

Mungkin hal ini terlihat sepele, tapi pencurian pencapaian ini menunjukkan siapa anda. Apalagi saat anda tahu tidak ada konsekuensi yang berarti, jadi tindakan yang anda lakukan murni keputusan anda sendiri. Kalau anda tetap mencuri karya orang, itu menandakan anda tidak mampu menghargai orang lain. Anda-anda yang main like dan share walaupun ada watermark/logo yang jelas-jelas menunjukkan itu milik orang lain juga terlihat ceroboh dan (lagi-lagi) tidak mau repot-repot menghargai hasil karya orang lain. Ironisnya banyak yang dengan sopannya komen "Ijin share ya..." padahal itu album foto isinya kompilasi dari berbagai sumber, yang mana tidak ada link ke sumber aslinya. Jreng jreng.

Karena saya sendiri pekarya dan punya banyak teman yang juga pekarya saya sangat tahu nilai sebuah karya. Mau masterpiece atau produk gagal, membuat suatu karya orisinal yang mencerminkan siapa kita itu susah sekali lho. Coba saja anda lihat, film (Hollywood) sekarang hampir semuanya sequel atau franchise atau adaptasi buku/serial TV, cuma sedikit yang benar-benar karya asli. Kalau anda masih menganggap saya mengada-ngada dan lebay, coba bayangkan kalau anda pergi arisan membawa kue senampan, lalu si empunya arisan mengaku kue itu dia yang buat. Atau saat anda kongkow bersama geng anda dan teman baik anda bilang bahwa modifikasi mobil barunya yang keren itu murni ide dan karyanya, padahal anda yang membantu membuatnya dan sampai disemprot yayang karena keasikan memodif sampai lupa jadwal kencan. Sakit dan ngeselin nggak sih? 

Iya, iya. Pasti banyak diantara anda yang sabar dan rela saja diambil hak dan pencapaiannya. Tapi bukan berarti orang lain harus ikutan pasrah seperti anda dong? Mungkin anda berpikir kalau melaporkan ke Facebook atau mengingatkan si pembuat album via komentar itu "ikut campur" dan "kurang pantas", apalagi kalau kebetulan album foto (colongan) tersebut membantu anda. Itu pilihan anda, tapi itu ibaratnya seperti anda melihat orang dirampok di depan warung makan anda, lalu mengamini karena toh uang rampokannya dipakai untuk beli makan di warung anda. Kita tidak bisa hanya berdoa dan berserah pada Tuhan untuk dunia yang lebih baik, kita juga harus berani bersikap dan berusaha sebisa mungkin. Salah satunya ya dengan membantu mempertahankan hak orang lain. Empati dan Simpati itu tidak harus cuma untuk kasus ekstrim yang mencucurkan air mata, empati dan simpati itu juga bisa timbul dari hal kecil, sekecil mengingatkan orang lain untuk tidak mencuri hak orang lain, seberapapun kecilnya. Jadi, siap mengambil sikap?

Dear Little Turtle

I hate you. Or, at least I did. 

I still remember the first time I met you: so petite and dainty like a fresh spring rose, with a smile so sweet it almost give me diabetes. In my mind you are toxic, dangerous, loathsome. Yet people surrounded you with adoration, and the combination between their awe and your aura of beauty hurt me and burned me like the sunlight turned the vampire into ashes. Looking at you from a distance hurt me. Being with you in the same room hurt me. Your existence in this world hurt me. I envied you, can't you tell? I can be as witty and as gaily as possible, yet the eyes will still be on you. I was the kind of people that others will easily stepped on just to be a tad bit closer to people like you. As if your glamour would spread. Diarrhea spread, glamour not so much.

Then we're somehow stuck together. I still hated you that time. A tiny part of me was still insecure, but I have grown to love myself too. I had someone who love me. I had a good job. I was invincible in my own way. And most of all, I know for a fact my boyfriend couldn't care less on how you look. Which is a big plus. I was still uncomfortable with you, and still loathed the fact that you probably sailed through life thanks to your looks alone while I have to strive and pull myself out from the bottom of the abyss just to where I was at that point. Which is not entirely true. I have had many helps too along the way. But still, I was not as good looking as you are. So we're stuck together. Big deal. I care only about getting out of there ASAP, and I really don't care about your existence.

Then we talk about work. You said you wish you could get a job like mine, I told you how to apply. Me and my big mouth. There is a good, a really good chance that you could end up taking my position. You, after all, got all the necessary requirement for most Indonesian job: soft spoken, cute, a total darling. Yet I still told you how to apply, because, you know, I'm careless like that. When it worked out, I thought I gained a colleague. Which is really cool, because then I can use you as my sub when I can't go to work, and I can get more hours as your sub when you can't go to work. I maybe honest but I am not dumb. Everything has its worth. We didn't stay colleague for long though. Somewhere along the way, with the speed that match a viral disease (or it seemed like it), we ended up being closer and closer to each other. The next thing I know, we were friends.

Even then, sometimes I didn't know if I was really your friends or if you were just using me, as a diva would use her entourage. I have people shamelessly called themselves your best of best friends, and even as I teased you about it I can't help thinking, "What if it's true? What if they are really her BFF and I am nothing but a bystander?". But at that point, I like you so much that I really don't care. It was too much fun to be with you. You exasperated me every time you got sad and just hide in your little house like a good little turtle. I would knock on your house and wave a little cucumber (read: invitation to have a good time) and hope you will take the bait and let me have fun with you, because I really do enjoy your company. We laughed together, eat together, cry together. Description ceased to exist, what we are to each other is unimportant, all I know is that I had fun when I was with you.

When I have to move out, it seemed that our friendship would not last. Our conversation got shorter and shorter and, combined with your tendency to retreat to your 'house' when the world is too much for you, at times I thought that was the end. You didn't care. I started to forget. Of course, none of it was true. A good friendship is the one that will stay forever and you will never forget the how-to, just like riding a bike. Ours was equivalent with a super-solar-powered-with-extra-booster-back-to-the-future-bicycle. Pretty rad and much amazing. You were the one I called when I broke up with my boyfriend. I was the one you told when you got married. I dished out how I was going to meet this man out of nowhere from a dating site, and you enthusiastically cheered me up because you know I can, all while chowing down a big plate of Tuna Satay. Some things never changed.

And here we are. Both married, both with kid(s). And I still envy you at times. I even wanted your kid marrying someone from my side of the family, just to have your good look in the family. I know, I love you so much. The only reason why I keep doing what I have to do, braving myself and trying to be good and successful is just because I don't want to fail you. I think highly of you, and you might not know this. You stick to your gun, take the risk, defied all odds just to have your dream. Just to have what you wanted. And that is awesome. You might do it because you felt you don't have any other choice, but you still did it and sticking to it. And that is still awesome. I don't think I've ever done something that brave or that gutsy. Well, I could get crazy at times, but it is different. I don't really fear anything, so whatever crazy things that I did are not me being brave, it's just me being crazy (and reckless). And this is why I adore you so much. You got beaten in life, and you cry and you pout and you're sad, but you still got up and live your life. That's called endurance. That's called gutsy. That's called taking the life by its balls. No, for real.

Living in US taught me a lot of things. Being so far from my friends and family allowed me to see more things objectively. Most importantly, I learned that a$$holes are not race-related or geographically-bounded. The translation is: A$$holes are everywhere. The realization came to me almost like the Sixth Sense scene where the kid whispered: "I can see a$$holes..." Oops. I mean, "I can see dead people." Living in US helped me prove my theory: people are people. There are nice people, there are kind people, there are assholes and narrow minded people that would go hell-bent on trying to make you live the life that they think is correct. And knowing that they're a$$holes still doesn't help. It still hurts when you are subjected to such a$$holery, or to see someone subjected to it. Ideal world would be a place where people actually care on what other feels, regardless of their race/religion/whatever worldly attribute they choose to identify with themselves. For instance, I do not think I should adhere to "How To Properly Eat Sushi Without Insulting The Japanese" which includes the proportion on Wasabi vs soy sauce that I can use in my sushi and the angle on dipping the said sushi plus how long I should dip it for. At least not when I only ate $3 supermarket sushi that I bought on sale. My motto is: live your life the way you wanted to, but leave mine alone.

[To be fair, that motto is kinda f*cked up since I've been trying to make people good about themselves and be more sympathetic and caring to other people A.K.A changing people's life, all to achieve my own goal for peace on earth and the day where I don't have to say "What dafuq is this sh*t??!". Each to it's own I guess.]

Of course, knowing what's happening is not the same as managing your feeling. And so, little turtle, you have all the right to be grumpy, to be sad, to cry, to be mad. People can be evil, and there's no change in that. You would think you know someone, just to have that person turn into beast in front of your eyes, or in your computer/phone screen. You get the gist. When that happens, don't look into them. Look into you. You are kind, you are sweet, you are full of love. You are brave, you are strong, you are precious. You reached out to me and keep me close unconditionally, and that alone shows how special you are. Whenever the world seemed to be against you, read this letter again and have faith in yourself. Look around you and think, think hard, will you change any aspect of yourself just to accommodate what people say? And then look deeper and remember yourself as I see you: my darling little turtle, so brave and so gutsy. I would call you an armadillo, but a turtle seemed cuter. So there. 

We live, we learn. Unfortunately some people doesn't. You can't change a person's heart, nobody can, not even themselves unless they have a strong reason to (and a great self control to boost). But you, you're something else. Everybody is something else, to be exact; but we're not talking about everybody else, we're talking about you. You love, is special. Don't let anyone else talked you out of it. Don't let anyone else convinced you otherwise. Don't let anyone else made you feel shitty. And if they do, kick 'em in the balls. I love you, my little turtle. Now go and kick some balls.