The Dos And Don’ts of ‘I Do’

Don’t get married because you are the last of the rest of your gang who’s still single.
Don’t get married because she’s beautiful and you’re the cutest guy in the whole world.
Don’t get married because your parents say so.
Don’t get married because it seems like the right thing to do. When it’s right it doesn’t start with ’seems’.
Don’t get married because you want people to finally shut up.
Don’t get married because you’d feel guilty if you don’t.
Don’t get married because you want to get out of the house.
Don’t get married because you are afraid of being lonely. Lonely is who you are.
Don’t get married because why not?
Don’t get married because you have no self respect and confidence in yourself.
Don’t get married because you think that people will change when you’re finally together. People don’t change. Infants do.
Don’t get married because you don’t know what the hell you should do with this person you’ve been seeing for more than 3 years.
Don’t get married because ‘he’s nice.’ and ’she’s very kind’.
Don’t get married because you think the act of love comes in various abuses such as physical abuse, verbal abuse, emotional abuse and financial abuse.
Just don’t. But…
Do get married because you have mutual respect
Do get married because you make each other laugh
Do get married because talking to each other helps making you feel better
Do get married because you can love with your head as well as with your heart
Do get married because you feel mutual appreciation for each other
Do get married because you both get the jokes
Do get married because partner’s intimidation is a word you’re never heard of existing.
Do get married because of the money ONLY when you know for sure you can get your hands on it.
Do get married because you know if you fail to love with your head you can still love with your heart and vice versa.
Do get married because you know you can stand each other’s odd behavior.
Do get married because you can look ugly and fat in front of each other at any given least expected moments.
Do get married because you can support each other in so many levels.
Do get married to someone who comprehends table manner and pees in place and understands the concept of dry bathroom and wet bathroom.

So let’s do or don’t.

Beat.

Retreat. Retreat. It’s a defeat. My feet fresh meat sizzle on the heat. Look at them. They still bleed. Wondering if this is what I really need. Coz look at them. Look at them. They bleed. Retreat.

Sorry, The ‘I’ I’m Looking For Is Busy. Please Try Again Later.

No, not today.I’m busy.
Filling my heads with things
Like things that could have been
Things that would have been
Things that might have been
Things like history.

I’m busy
Defining my methods
Refining my sentences
Hooning my moves
Improving my means
Filling in the gaps

Oh, no, I can’t
Cause I’m too busy
Doing things that are nothing
Doing chores in my head
Doing my to do list over and over again
Working things out

I’ve been so busy
That I’ve no time for pain
I’ve no time for fun
I’ve no time for love
I’ve no time for life
I’ve no time for God

I’m still trying to get busy
Busy busy busy busy
To get my act straight
To get my message across
To get me the head turns
To get by get by

Oh so busy busy busy
Looking like what not
Searching for what isn’t there
Going nowhere
Making up how tos
Delaying when
And losing who

I’m busy being busy
Looking busy seemingly busy
Because it’s so easy
To be just busy
Busy busy

Mau Apa Lagi Setelah Bayinya Udah Nggak Lucu?

“Dia pinter sekali sekarang. Pinter ngomong. Pernah suatu kali dia ngambek banget sama aku waktu kita lagi di Singapur. Jadi dia seharian maunya ribut aja sama aku. Aku lagi tiduran nonton TV bantalku ditarik-tarik sama dia. Lalu aku bilang dong, ‘Sweety, this is Daddy’s pillow. Play with your own pillow dong.’ Terus tau nggak dia bilang apa? Sambil tetep ngambek sama aku dia ngeliatiiiin aja, eh tau-tau dia ngomong, ‘No, it’s not your pillow. It’s the hotel’s.’ Siaalaaaaan, deh anak itu. Kepikir gitu sama dia. Sampai kadang aku heran dia itu umur berapa, sih. Suka sok tua, kayak bukan anak umur 5 tahun.”

Bos saya bercerita tentang anaknya, Shay dengan penuh semangat. Saya pikir wajar saja kalau anak bosku ini pinter ngomong. Sama lah kayak bapaknya. Bapaknya ini juga pinter banget ngomong, selain juga berani. Saya belum pernah tahu Creative Director Senior lain yang pernah bilang goblok ke kliennya. Klasik dan legendaris. Dia itu jadi inspirasi saya, bahwa kalau kita yakin kita ini benar, ya harus dipertahankan sebisa mungkin dengan cara yang kita tahu. Salah satunya dengan ‘meyakinkan’ klien bahwa cara mereka itu goblok. Hahahahaha… Entah kenapa saya dan bos saya ini sering ngobrol seru. Seperti hari Sabtu yang lalu, saya memang sengaja bertemu dengannya untuk bertukar pikiran saja. Ngobrol ngalor ngidul. Dulu waktu kami masih sekantor, saya diledeki ‘temannya bos’ karena kami sering ngobrol seru berdua kalau makan siang. Macam kawan lama se-almamater saja. Tapi memang menurut saya dia adalah seorang yang menyenangkan. Kebetulan juga sense of humor kami agak nyambung, jadi kami sering terkekeh-kekeh berdua. Seru sekali. Selain juga saya bisa belajar banyak hal darinya.

Seperti sekarang. Saya saya sedang belajar sesuatu darinya. Belajar memahami rasa bangga seorang ayah terhadap anak perempuannya yang baru berumur 5 tahun. Jelas sekali walaupun sering dibuat terkaget-kaget oleh tingkah laku anaknya, ada rasa bangga saat dia bercerita. Rasa sayang. Rasa puas bahwa anaknya setidaknya menunjukkan gelagat sebagai anak yang berkualitas, sejak usia dini. Aku juga jadi belajar memahami rasa bahagia seorang ayah dalam memiliki anak dan kenapa mereka menginginkannya. Dan betapa tidak mudah membesarkan mereka. Dan betapa kita tidak boleh menjadi orang tua yang terlalu dan selalu pas-pasan untuk bisa dengan tenang membesarkannya. Dan betapa kita harus siap, sesiap-siapnya memiliki mereka, menerima mereka apa adanya, membimbing dan mengajarkan mereka untuk menjadi anak-anak yang lebih baik daripada orang tuanya, daripada anak-anak lainnya yang seumuran, daripada anak-anak tetangga dan daripada apa yang pernah mereka harapkan.

Di hari yang sama, saya juga menemani sahabat saya, Ottochan yang sedang menemani keponakannya, Evan yang berumur 9 tahun. Kami berjanjian di mal karena keponakannya kepingin main Lego. Kebetulan seminggu ini memang ada festival Lego sekaligus pemecahan rekor MURI untuk ‘ular naga’ Lego terpanjang di Indonesia. Sekaligus dalam rangka meramaikan liburan sekolah. Jadi mereka yang mau main Lego bisa main selama 30 menit di area yang disediakan dengan membayar 20ribu rupiah. Seru juga. Saya sempat tergoda main beberapa kali. Tapi karena takut jadi egois dan mentang-mentang bisa bayar untuk 5 jam, saya ganti pikiran dan membiarkan si Evan main sembari saya dan Ottochan saling curhat di pinggiran. Sesekali Ottochan memanggil Evan untuk memotretnya. Ottochan bilang hari itu, PS adalah mal ketiga yang mereka kunjungi dari pagi. Mereka sudah main di Puri dan di Plaza Semanggi. Jari-jari Evan sampai lecet-lecet akibat menceplak ceplok Lego seharian.

Evan memang gila Lego. Dia tidak baca komik atau serius main PSP sehari-harinya. Mendingan dia menghabiskan waktu menceplak-ceplok Lego. Dia bilang koleksi Legonya sudah gila-gilaan. Dan setiap kali berkreasi, dia memfoto kreasinya supaya tidak lupa. Anak yang pintar. Demi Lego, dia rela belajar mati-matian biar rapotnya bagus. Dan hari ini, karena rapotnya bagus, dia berhak sebuah koleksi Lego yang sudah lama dia incar.

Kami pun mampir toko mainan. Evan mau membeli Lego hadiahnya sementara saya dan Ottochan yang sering berubah jadi umur 5 tahun lagi, seperti berasa naik kelas lagi. Kami akhirnya membeli beberapa mainan just for the fun of it. And also, because we can. We didn’t have to ask for permission anymore. We just buy. Di toko mainan yang penuh, orang-orang tua dengan anak-anaknya yang menagih hadiah kenaikan kelas mereka ribut ke sana kemari ambil mainan dari sana sini. Ini pasti saat-saat yang cukup mendebarkan bagi orang tua. Karena selain liburan sekolah mereka yang masih 10 hari lagi, mereka juga harus menyiapkan budget ekstra untuk segala-galanya mulai dari jajanan, kegiatan dan tambahan-tambahan lainnya. Tanpa mereka sadari sebetulnya ini adalah tahap awal bagi orang tua dan anak untuk saling membuktikan ‘komitmen’ mereka sesuai fungsinya.

Saat mengantri membayar saya memperhatikan sekeliling saya. Betapa bahayanya para pasangan yang menikah tanpa alasan yang jelas. Tanpa standar kemapanan nurani, badani dan rohani yang jelas. Yang tidak bisa menjadikan diri mereka sendiri sebagai contoh yang kongkrit dalam fungsinya sebagai orang tua.

Karena anak kan harus jadi penerus kita, macam olahraga atletik estafet. Tapi pemahaman seperti apa atau tentang apa yang harus kita teruskan kepada mereka? Dan gimana meneruskannya kalau kita sendiri nggak ngerti?

SAKIT KEPALA DARI U2

Akhir-akhir ini, aku sering memikirkanmu. Hm…aku berbohong. Aku selalu memikirkanmu, sejak bertahun-tahun yang lalu. Aku sudah memikirkanmu bahkan sebelum aku bertemu denganmu. Dulu aku sering juga membayangkan, orang macam apa kau itu. Semua yang sudah mengenalmu dan mengenalku juga mengatakan betapa kau seorang lelaki yang baik. Yang sibuk dan berprestasi. Pengalamanmu juga banyak. Duniamu penuh warna. Kesenian, kebudayaan, makanan, kenalan…semuanya meyakinkan. Kau sudah pernah merasakan semuanya. Melihat semuanya. Menjalani semuanya. Melakukan semuanya. Menarik. Itu sebabnya aku selalu memikirkanmu. Hingga akhirnya aku bertemu sendiri denganmu. Semua yang dikatakan orang benar rupanya. Kau orang yang punya banyak cerita menarik dalam hidupmu. Karena kau sudah melakukan banyak rupa perjalanan, termasuk perjalanan hatimu. Kau juga sudah pernah patah hati yang sepatah-patahnya. Berpikir bahwa kau tidak akan pernah mencintai seseorang lagi seperti kau mencintainya. Mencintai dia. Dan dirinya. Tiga kali. Tiga kali kau patah hati. Sepatah-patahnya. Seperti sumpit kayu yang patah. Atau tusuk gigi. Atau ranting. Patah. Terhempas di tanah. Di trotoar. Di jalanan. Nyaris tak berguna. “Kamu yang ke-empat. Paling parah,” katamu waktu itu. Ya.

Sudah beberapa waktu ini aku tidak terlalu memikirkanmu. Tapi hari ini aku kembali memikirkanmu. Begitu saja. Seperti tidak pernah berhenti. Tapi kau memang begitu. Aku belum begitu lama mengenalmu, namun rasanya seperti sudah seumur hidup saja aku mengenalmu. Begitu saja. Seperti ketika hari ini aku kembali memikirkanmu. Saat aku terbangun dan terjatuh dari tempat tidur karena tiba-tiba semua seperti berputar. Seperti ketika sedang ada gempa. Aku pikir memang ada gempa, yang cukup hebat sehingga bisa mengangkatku dari tempat tidur dan menghempaskanku ke lantai. Tapi tidak. Bukan gempa. Bukan pula kau. Vertigo. Entah kenapa, kau tiba-tiba muncul di kepalaku yang sedang tidak karu-karuan pusingnya itu. Tiba-tiba pula aku mendengar suaramu. Katamu,”Kalau aku tinggal denganmu, akan lebih mudah merawatmu kalau ada apa-apa. Aku ingin merawatmu. Menjagamu. Aku bisa gila kalau sampai ada sesuatu yang buruk terjadi padamu.”

Aku mencoba untuk bangun. Dan menutup mata. Untuk menghilangkan visual lantai dan dinding yang berputar. Kini hanya bayangan hitam yang berputar-putar di dalam pejaman mataku. Lalu suaramu muncul lagi, kali ini katamu,”Aku tahu bahaya kadang tidak bisa dicegah munculnya. Tapi aku tidak ingin kau panik kalau sampai terjadi sesuatu. Selalu perhatikan jalan keluar yang tercepat dan teraman kalau kau ada di dalam gedung. Dan yang penting, kau harus tetap tenang.” Aku mencoba untuk tetap tenang dan kembali berbaring. Mengatur nafas pelan-pelan. Supaya tertidur. Supaya semuanya berhenti berputar. Lalu sedikit demi sedikit, wajahmu muncul selapis demi selapis di dalam pejaman mataku, menggantikan bayangan hitam yang berputar-putar. Tapi wajahmu tak kunjung jelas. Hanya samar-samar kulihat kau seperti tersenyum dan lamat-lamat kudengar lagi suaramu. “Maafkan aku. Maafkan aku. Aku mencintaimu. Kau tau kan?”

Aku rasa pelan-pelan aku tertidur juga. Dan terbangun lagi beberapa waktu kemudian. Aku masih memikirkanmu. Apakah kau baik-baik saja? Mengapa kau sering meminta maaf saat kau berkunjung ke alam bawah sadarku? Apakah mungkin aku yang menginginkanmu meminta maaf? Mengapa pula seingatku setiap kali kau meminta maaf, aku terbangun sebelum sempat memaafkanmu.

Aku memaksa diriku berjalan ke kamar mandi. Sedikit sempoyongan. Aku berpikir, mungkin mandi dan keramas bisa menghilangkan semua tentangmu dari kepalaku. Sekalian juga menyegarkanku sedikit. Aku tetap memikirkanmu. Sesaat dua saat aku mual dan rasanya ingin muntah saja. Aku heran, bahkan di saat terburukku pun, kaulah yang selalu muncul pertama kali di dalam benakku. Lebih awal dari yang aku ingin kau muncul. Masih sempoyongan, aku keluar dari kamar mandi. Perutku mual dan kepalaku mulai berdenyar lebih keras lagi. Rasanya seperti ada yang menghimpit dari kesemua sisinya. Aku tidak berani membuka mataku karena semuanya masih seperti terguncang gempa.

Sembari kembali berbaring, aku menduga, mungkin ini rasanya bertemu lagi denganmu. Melihatmu tiba-tiba berdiri di hadapanku. Mungkin kau tersenyum. Atau terdiam. Atau bertingkah aneh. Atau bahkan berpura-pura tidak mengenalku. Atau aku akan berpura-pura tidak mengenalmu. Semoga jika hari itu tiba, aku sudah mandi terlebih dahulu dan berdandan dalam pakaian terbaikku minggu itu. Sehingga jika aku tiba-tiba mati di dalam pelukanmu karena tidak kuat menahan sakit di kepalaku dan mual di perutku karena vertigo akut, aku tidak terlihat terlalu jelek.

“Maafkan aku. Aku mencintaimu. Kau tau kan?”

Morning Bajaj Ride

Do you think of me?
Do I ever cross your mind?
Do things remind you of me?
Do you remember my name?

So you were just being nice
Like lemon tea with ice
In a bleached day as white as rice
And blinded my eyes

But it was nice of you to offer
A slight hope and a little shelter
From the cold, the thoughts and the crazy driver
And gave me a reason to prefer

A company a chat and a lot of laughter
A little moment later
I should have known myself better
And not written you that letter

But it was still nice of you to offer
Something like a glass of lemon tea with ice
and a promise to write me a letter

Let Me Start With A Russian Flag Down My Right Knee

I’m strange. I like to stitch things on my stuffs. Things like badges, piece of cloth, cut out shirts or some pockets I nik off other parts of my clothes, and stitch them on stuffs like bags, pants, suitcase, another shirt or pillow case. Why? Why not. O, for crying out loud,… I’m bored. I tried picking my nose but I got bored after the 2nd finger. I tried to sing with my fart, but my bunghole hurt after a few forced fart. I know, I know, disgusting. Not very fashionable to generic standard. So I thought, I’d do something positive for a change. Something low key. Something normal. Something that isn’t breaking any law. Something…fashionable, even to generic standard. So I found badges. And needle and a whole yarn. With the skill that my Grandma reluctantly passed down to me ages ago, I started stitching badges on my suitcase, bag, pillow case, old sweater, and just last night, on my pants.

A Russian flag I got at flea market in Sydney. I also got me a Croatian flag, a skull, a sign that says, ‘Beware of the owner, not the dog.’, little ones that say ‘Parts’ and ‘Instructor’, and hand that gives a V sign. As I was restructuring my wardrobe, I found a pair of black pants I haven’t worn for a while because the right pipe on the knee side was torn. I was gonna old fashioned-ly stitch it up but then I saw the Russian flag, which size fit perfectly with the torn bit of the pants. And it did.

This morning, I gave my parents a heart attack. No, let me rephrase. The Russian flag, gave my parents a heart attack. My parents, being two of the successors of the communist periode in this country, insisted that I took it off. My parents, have obviously not heard of Glastnost and Perestroika nor cared that fashionably speaking, the bright red of the flag looked absolutely fabulous against the black pants. I was wrong, I was strange, I was out of line, I was so gonna get it, by the 5th sentence that they used to describe me, I was so near breaking the federal law.

Then I thought, well…would it be any difference if I had put Germany’s flag there, of Italy’s, or Australia’s (I probably would if they weren’t so overworn by other people I also know) or a woman’s pussy or someone’s dick. Which one would be more offensive? Why are we so afraid of symbols instead of God? Would it be less unsettling if I put a badge that says ‘GOD’ on it? I bet you a thousand dollars of some rich man’s money (I won’t bet my money on it, just because I don’t actually have a thousand dollars) that someone is more afraid of the swastika instead of any symbols or sign that relates to God. I’ll give you 9 out 10. Despite God’s popular appearances through natural disasters and dreams come true, He is seldom represented through attractive logos or flags. Maybe that’s one of the reason mortals are so afraid of manmade symbols, simplified in flags, logos, or a name. I tell you what, if mortals are so afraid of God’s popular appearances through natural disasters, they would have cared more for nature. No victims are pleading for more aid to build their wrecked home post earthquakes or flood or bushfires or the freaking tsunamis. No victims would be necessary at all. Because they’d learn from mistakes and understand what they mean completely when they read the sign of God’s existence.

Tonight, my parents are gonna come home and start praying to God so God can help me find my ways. Or other flags to be stitched on my pants to replace the Russian flag. Meanwhile, I’d pray for God to find Landor and Associates for a logo comission while I’m stitching more unlikely things on my stuffs.

The Blondes and The Winter Night’s Fling

They met at their bestfriends’ wedding
They were introduced then exchanged greetings
The next day he bought her a drink
Then conversation was flowing

Dawn came and they were hugging
And before long they were kissing
And falling asleep while cuddling
Or something that he would call ‘napping’

So morning was falling
And she said she was leaving
He asked where she was going
Home of course she said while smiling

He too was smiling
She stood up and they were hugging
Would you email me he was asking
You’ve asked me that four times she was saying

They’re back to hugging
And some more kissing
For a moment she was thinking
How nice she was feeling

Email me he was asking
She promised and started laughing
She thought this guy was amazing
She found that she was half wishing

Yes I would she was confirming
For the last time they were hugging
And more farewell kisses were flying
For a moment it felt like a heavy parting

Then she started walking
Away from where he was standing
She felt his eyes were still staring
At her back she was feeling

So she turned, waved and she was smiling
At a tall blonde man who’s still standing
By the entrance of his building
He was smiling ever so charming

She would have hoped that it was a beginning
And suddenly thought of running
Back to his building
But the train had started moving

So instead she was smiling
To herself while reminiscing
At the time when they were sweetly kissing
Which continued onto a little napping

She had begun to feel something
A little like hope and a wishful thinking
Of a friendship perhaps worth saving
Out of little winter night’s fling

(Slight dramatization was inserted for the sake of rhyming. Of course, the reality was nearest to almost impossible for any of those to happen. But the thought was there. The thought was there. )

Hate.

i hate hate hatet hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate… all these. These. These. These. These. These. These. These. These. These. These. These. These. These. These. These. These. These. These. These.

Great.

SALAD

I feel crisp like lettuce. Green and crunchy like the bell peppers. Red and ripe like the tomatoes. Tasty like the onions. Black and blue like the roasted zuccinis. Sour like French dressing. I’m a bowl of salad tossed in together. Just for keeping not for eating. I’m the quick fix. Solution for your diet. Not too costy but sometimes overrated. I’m a salad, I’m a salad, I’m a salad, I’m a salad. Suspiciously because I haven’t slept for a day.