614

Pesan moral yang bakal gue kasih ke lo-lo pada bahkan sebelum sesi curhat dimulai: bus yang langka dan penuh lebih banyak memberi pelajaran hidup daripada bus yang pasaran dan sepi.

Menurut gue it makes sense sih, since there goes the famous quote: you never really get to know someone until you see them at their worst. Semakin buruk situasi yang lo hadapi, semakin melorot topeng yang lo pakai dan perlihatkan ke orang-orang. Di scenes seperti itulah kita bener-bener mempelajari watak seseorang.

"Oh, si A kalo udah emosi orangnya abusif, padahal kelihatannya kalem."

"Oh, si Z kalo laper jadi self-centered banget ya, semua mesti nurutin kemauannya."

Etc.-etc.

Di bus nomor 614, jurusan Tanah Abang-Pasar Minggu, gue mengenal berbagai wajah original (bukan paha atas aja yang original) berkerumun. Former status gue sebagai pengangguran menjelang kuliah yang menyibukkan diri dengan intensif SBMPTN di BTA bikin gue rutin naik bus itu, pergi dan pulang. Earlier this year, gue pernah nge-post tentang lansia yang mengingatkan gue akan kakek gue dan nahan gue biar nggak jatuh, juga malaikat yang ngasih gue kantong kresek pas hujan deras. Well, di waktu-waktu lain, ada kalanya gue kurang beruntung dan malah ketemu wajah-wajah yang malah kurang menyenangkan.

Pernah, gue yang udah duduk manis di bus penuh sesak, berdiri dengan maksud ngasih tempat duduk ke ibu-ibu yang bawa tas banyak banget. Eh, malah diserobot mas teng nggak tau diri. Gue udah nahan keki banget, si ibu juga kelihatan prihatin. Tapi nggak ada yang negur, dan nggak ada yang bisa gue lakukan selain menghela napas panjang. Panjaaaaang sekali.

Bukan sekali-dua kali gue ketemu laki-laki dewasa berbadan kekar yang nggak mau give up their seats untuk orang yang lebih membutuhkan, i.e. wanita hamil, lansia, penderita disabilitas, kids in kindergarten/elementary school uniform. It's sickening, really, to see just a little humanity left on them. They just look around with those boring eyes, seakan-akan udah sering ngelihat panorama macam itu, yang berarti, udah sering juga feed their ego dan tutup mata tutup telinga. Gue ngerti, gue sangat sangat sangat paham kalo dia capek/ngantuk/just had a rough day, tapi bukankah semua orang dalam bus juga begitu?

Kali lainnya, gue terdesak ke perut bus, lokasi yang amat tidak strategis kalo lo mau turun. Tiba-tiba ada ibu-ibu yang naik, mukanya datar tanpa senyum. Baru lima detik di atas bus, dia udah komplain, "Geseran dong, Bu." Lima belas detik, dia nyolek bahu ibu-ibu lain yang badannya gempal di tempat duduk dan bilang, "Bu saya pusing. Mau duduk, dong."

Wtf.

No magic words. No "please" and "thanks." Dia langsung mengangsurkan diri gitu aja ke atas bangku. Setiap bus ngerem mendadak dan ada yang nyenggol, dia ber-ckckck kesal. Mana suka garuk-garuk lagi. Gue tahu ini nggak adil dan nggak ada korelasinya, tapi rambutnya bau bawang, ketombean dan banyak kulit kepala yang mencuat, dan setiap dia kegatelan dan mengoprek rambutnya, ketombenya dan kulit kepalanya berguguran. Dan itu makin bikin gue bete aja. Sampe-sampe waktu ada yang bergumam, "Cibang," gue ngangguk-ngangguk dalam hati. Belakangan gue sadar generalisasi itu rasis dan diskriminatif, tapi tu orang emang b@ngs4t, sih.

Tapi yah, kadang diskriminasi bisa jadi bumerang yang menghasilkan, sih. Pernah ada bangku kosong di samping gue, dan bapak-bapak kantoran yang udah diri lebih lama dari gue mempersilakan gue duduk dengan alasan, "Adek badannya kecil gitu." Gue nggak protes saat itu. Di kondisi normal mungkin gue bakal nyinyir, "Saya nggak pendek, situ aja yang tinggi." HAHAHAHAHA. #shortpeopleproblem

Penumpang jenis lain, yang pelit dan nggak mau rugi duit, juga ada. Gue samar-samar nguping bapak-bapak yang bilang ke temennya, "Kasih aja sopirnya seribu. Kita nggak duduk ini." Gue menahan diri buat nggak komen kalo they're being unfair. Mau lo duduk atau berdiri, sopir dan kernet itu udah mengantar lo ke tempat tujuan dengan selamat, and that's the whole damn point. Tapi waktu gue diskusi sama my partner in muse, Fadli, dia menimpali gue, "Ya menurut lo kalo orang nonton konser, lebih mahal yang duduk atau yang diri? Toh mereka ngeliat penyanyi yang sama." Gue ngotot, "Ih itu kan beda." Intinya gue kalah sih.

Ya udahlah kita skip. Bukan, bukannya gue mau menggambarkan betapa payah dan lemahnya argumentasi gue, but paraphrasing Fadli and I arguing will take lots of time.

*brb minum* *oke lanjut*

Nggak selamanya sih, gue ketemu sama orang-orang ngeselin. Di hari-hari gue udah males naik 614 because I decided it was stuffed by rude people, dan sudah antipati dan pasang muka badak, justru gue dikejutkan sama keramahan mereka. Ada yang nawarin gue payungan bareng waktu hujan dan bus 614-nya ada di tengah jalan. Ada yang kelihatan genuinely curious about my stories and the opposite, those who made me curious about their stories and they shared them with me wholeheartedly. Yang paling bikin gue terharu sekaligus menyesal, ada nenek-nenek yang memberi gue kursi. Gue tetep diri dan bilang, "Saya deket kok Bu," to which she responded all smile, "Saya juga deket." Akhirnya gue duduk di tempatnya, sementara dia diri di dekat pintu depan. Guess what? Gue turun sebelum dia.

Malamnya gue laporan lagi ke Komjen Fadli dan dia bilang, "Makanya jangan menggeneralisasi. Lo terus-terusan ketemu orang jahat karena lo belom sempet naik bus yang isinya orang-orang baik." Gue langsung tertegun sih.

Maybe that's all that matters. It is countless; the frequency of me complaining and bitching about other people's lives, although I do it in silence. Orang Indonesia egois. Orang Indonesia jorok. Orang Indonesia norak. Itu semata-mata karena gue belum ketemu orang Indonesia yang selfless, yang resik, yang keep it classy. Don't say this world is bad until you travel every pieces of it. Say there's part of this world which is bad for you; itu yang correct.

Saat-saat gue menunggu bus 614 juga memberi pelajaran tersendiri. Di spot yang dilewati 614 tempat gue biasa nunggu, gue sering nyender ke sudut terpencil pagar rumah orang, soalnya lumayan adem dan strategis. Selama gue nunggu gue pura-pura budek tiap ada penunggu (bukan hantu) terminal yang ngajak gue ngobrol. Lama-lama gue nyerah dan mulai ngerespon. Suatu hari dia ngasih unjuk tempat buat gue duduk dan bilang, "Lain kali jangan nyender di situ. Itu kan tempat kencing sopir."

Gue langsung kaget. "KOK BAPAK NGGAK NGASIH TAU??? SAYA UDAH SERING BANGET NYENDER DI SITU."

"Lah kamu nggak nanya."

*brb nari Tor-Tor*

Yha, guys. Next time lo nemuin tempat adem dan strategis yang nggak dikerumunin calon penumpang, lo wajib curiga.

(Anyway, sampe rumah gue langsung misahin baju-baju yang pernah gue pake ke BTA dan gue cuci ulang semuanya.)

Gue juga belajar soal fate and coincidence dari bus 614. Biasanya gue nungguin 15-45 menit sampe satu bus itu lewat. Suatu hari gue beli otak-otak dan es podeng, trus ngaso di bawah pohon di depan Pasar Mayestik. (Nikmat, sumpah. Lo semua kudu nyoba). Baru tiga suap, kira-kita tujuh menit, ada bus 614 lewat.

Crap.

Untung es podengnya gue bungkus, jadi gue bisa ngacir ngejar bus itu. Sampe rumah tetep mencair, sih. But that's so not the point.

Gue pernah juga denger orang yang kecopetan naik suatu bus (non-614) dan jadi kapok naik bus itu, dengan dalih bus itu banyak copetnya. Dari fakta sosial ini gue mengembangkan dua teori:
1) dia cuma kebetulan aja naik bus yang ditaiki juga oleh si pencopet, dan,
2) yang namanya sial, siapa yang tahu.

Selebihnya, gue berusaha mengingat peristiwa-peristiwa manis dan sederhana aja. Kayak cogan yang ngasih gue kursi dan ngingetin uang gue yang nyembul dari saku, atau Pak Sopir yang nyahut, "Sama-sama Dek," waktu gue bilang makasih. Pengalaman hidup gue jadi bertambah sejak gue naik bus ini, dan gue harap pelajaran hidup lo bertambah sejak baca post ini. *nyengir*

Anyway, mulai bulan Agustus gue bakal berubah haluan naik bus 614 ke arah Pasar Minggu buat pergi dan ke arah Tanah Abang pas pulang.

Oke. Gue nyiapin ikat kepala dulu, ya. Sekian dulu Echa Teguh Platinum Ways-nya. Dadaaaah.

Begin Again

Setelah sekian lama ke-pending, akhirnya barusan gue nonton Begin Again juga. Tahulah, filmnya Keira Knightley dan Mark Ruffalo. It started slow for me, but it did move. In fact, it's moving and poignant in its own way.

Kontradiktif dengan judulnya, gue justru merasa Begin Again adalah film tentang... suatu akhir. It made me wonder then, judul "Begin Again" terlahir karena "beginning" dan "ending" itu sudah satu paket. Just like birth and mort. Day and night. Yin and yang. They're different, but they complete the package. They are the package.

I came to a thought that maybe, semua hal di dunia ini memang punya pasangannya sendiri-sendiri. Black for every white and vice versa. Bisa bayangkan betapa chaotic dunia ini seandainya semua orang baik atau sebaliknya, semua orang berprofesi sebagai penjahat. White is bright. Black is gloomy. Grey is the most boring shade, but that's what happens when you mix black and white. Everyone has this shade. I suppose so.

Ada bagian yang membuat gue tercenung cukup lama, waktu Gretta pergi sebelum Dave menyelesaikan lagunya. That's when I knew it ended. Blackout. Fini. Benang merah itu putus.

Terkadang suatu akhir terjadi tanpa salam perpisahan. Seringnya, malah, "goodbye" dan "see you again" hanyalah pengesahan, bukti keabsahan berakhirnya suatu hubungan. Seperti "THE END" di kebanyakan film Disney.

You know it ends when someone who used to mean the world to you becomes a stranger. Ketika kalian mengenal cuma sebatas "hai" dan "apa kabar". Ketika lo melihat mereka punya kode mata yang nggak lo pahami dan bicara dengan diksi yang bikin lo mengernyit.

Perlahan lo merasakan keterasingan. Perlahan lo merasa sepi walau nggak sendiri. Perlahan lo menjauh tanpa diminta. Because you're feeling like a misfit.

That's when things end.

Things change. So does time. So do people. Itu kodrat. Itu aturannya. Itu ketetapan semesta. Dan kita nggak bisa mengubah perubahan itu. Atau melarikan diri.

Gue ingat, di suatu masa, di dalam sebuah bait, gue menulis kalau it is death, when you whisper someone's name for the last time. Tapi ada beberapa hal yang lebih kekal dari kematian dan ada hal lain yang lebih fana dari kehidupan.

Memories belong to the first group. They might pack their suitcase and leave. They might as well change their number and find another home. Tapi lo tetap bisa mendengar suara mereka di antara lagu-lagu jadul yang diputar di Prambors karena mereka sering mendendangkannya. Lo tetap bisa melihat tawa mereka sewaktu lo melontarkan guyonan jayus yang sama. Lo bisa mengendus aroma hot macchiato atau asap rokok atau parfum cemara dan merasakan eksistensi mereka. These things live forever and become a part of you.

And that's when things begin again.

Ketika lo menerima segala sesuatunya dengan ikhlas. Ketika lo udah nggak sok tegar-tegarin diri dan berhenti hidup dalam denial. Ketika lo membiarkan diri lo menangis sepuasnya dan tertawa selepasnya. Ketika lo akhirnya... melepaskan.

It's contrary  again, huh? Segala sesuatu justru benar-benar dimulai ketika lo benar-benar melepaskan. Beginilah cara main semesta.

Oke, gue mulai menye-menye. Tapi yah memang perasaan itu yang ditinggalkan film Begin Again. I've had enough with running away from my feelings. I'm trying my best to feel. I'm trying my best to let go.

I find the pattern now. How the cycle goes.

Hidup... memang dimulai dengan suatu akhir dan ditamati oleh awal yang lain.

2015 and Self-Actualization

I do my self actualization through wander and wonder.

I get and form some random questions as I hit the road. Where rainbows end? Why "verb" is a noun? How many dusts I gather under my shoes? What happened to this old lady I just passed my seat to? Does sky really have seven layers?

Sometimes I try to verbalize those thoughts, discuss them to whoever sober enough at 2 a.m. to listen to my blurry words. Other times I just bury them into the darkest valley of my head, because there's no way words can be clicked, and they remain screaming in demand to be answered.

The funny thing is, the more I let some of them go, the more empty I feel. It leads to this one conclusion: I find my peace of mind at organized chaos. Where things are the most chaotic, I gain my security. So you know, whenever I stare dead at droplets of raindrops scattered on windowpane, looking lonely, is the busiest I've ever been. Perhaps you can't see the crowds, but the noise is there; buzzing through my ears, knocking every inches of my mind.

People say that self-actualization is when you can see the world in a total new light. I used to picture those who succeed their attempts as calm wiseass who smile gracefully and nod humbly. They respond every questions without wrinkling their forehead. They walk lightly on earth, like the Buddha. Or maybe my brain dictates that self-actualization relates the most to Buddha and monks. Okay, forget my naïvety. In fact, I find a contradiction in myself. The more I do my self-actualization, the more calmness locates itself just as an exterior.

You know what they say about this. Quiet people have the loudest mind. Heaven knows I'm not going to make up a balderdash about how quiet I am. No, I ain't fool you. I'm loud as hell, as loud as silence. Those cycinals who surround me and declare themselves as my friends squeak the same thing; often their jabbers turn into sharp critiques. They repeat and amend the same mediocre comments, pointing out my flaws as if I don't already see them. Little do they know, I only show half of myself. I'm so good at masquerading. I've let some chicks unbutton this cloak of pretense and see me naked, though. They peeked through the shameful vulnerability and got me talking at the lowest degree of consciousness. They discovered my dreams and what I fear the most. In the end it made me feel fragile. These people became my Achilles' heel. And when they left, I wrenched. So it was decided, I'd only display the completely real me to some people after I learn real shits about them first.

Perhaps that was the time I started to actualize myself by intending to do so. Because feelings are temporary, nothing's guaranteed. You can shout your love to this person and wake up the next day not feeling a thing anymore. And guess what? People come and people go. They say goodbye as easily as they say hello. Dang, that rhymes! By the way, you're the one who's responsible for your own heartbreaks, you're the one who will carry the blame. You know how the cycle goes now. Some people kiss just for fun. Some people only want love if it's torture. Don't say I didn't warn ya.

See? Heart is the frailest organ our body can have. Forget those bitches who command you to follow your heart. My friends, when it breaks to million pieces, which piece you will follow?

That's why I overthink. Rational explanations do me more favor than emotional ones. Speaking over feelings will get you nowhere, but logic gives us real boundaries. Contrary to my sympathetic exterior, I can be detached to whoever close to me. Besides, we all have rights to protect ourselves from getting hurt, and I build my walls with my rational views. I have no difficulty listening to others' feelings, but I can't quite put mine into phrases. See? Words like "feeling" and "emotion" and even "mood" are foreign to me. Believe me, you tend to do the wrong things if you feel too much. You're more in tune with yourself than you are with your surroundings. You see everything from your perspective, never put yourself in other people's shoes; "I feel that..." I have met dozens or hundreds of people who are overly emotional. Not the fairest people I know. They get messy and unstable once their extreme mood swings take over. You know what? Go fuck yourself.

Yet, then again, I breathe with this firm principle: medicine, law, business, and engineering are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But beauty, love, romance, and poetry... these are what we stay alive for. The first four variables are important for you to survive life; but the rest are important for us to live life.

Of course, the "love" I mention the last isn't the kind that gets you crying on your pillows at night and ruining your mascara. My perspective on love isn't that shallow. Hell, if you look up for that word on my dictionary, you'll read definitions below:

Love is when your brother yang supermager mau jalan buat beliin lo K*i*r*a*n*t*i* (ini guna ga sih sensornya?). Love is when your friends help you to blow those damn magic candles on your birthday cake. Love is when you can steal your cousin's favourite cheesecake from their freeze. Love is the serene look on your dad's face when he sips his first cup of tea in the morning. Love is when your mom tells you a secret about her first love. Love is when you dare to pull your tooth, no matter how scared you are, because your significant others start losing their teeth too.

Confused? Me too.

Most people stand on gray area, but there are too many antonyms collide inside of me. I'm tough but shaky. I find that silence is loud. I feel my comfort by getting frantic. My Oxford entry for "self-actualization" isn't quite right either. People create juxtapositions about me, half of them are unquestionably untrue. However, oh well, my life guide teaches me the Philosophy 101: there's no truth, only perspective. It probably is the reason why I question everything, except things that relate to my faith in God. Anyway, we need black as much as we need white, for they create equilibrium the Universe craves.

And now, all I want to do is set my goals in 2015. To be more spiritual as well as intellectual, so that I can fix the system of my self-actualization. To be more grateful and sensitive with small happiness. To accept what's passed and embrace what's going to happen next. To give myself the love it deserves.

Thank you for your blessings and your lessons, 2014. I'm who I am today because of those 365 days I spent in you. Thank you, God, the Creator, the Merciful, the Absolute Truth.

2015, here I come.

Pain, Sometimes

Now I understand why
Some people are found dead
with a deep slit
cut their wrist

Now I understand why
Some people look serene
like greeting fairies from folklore
while their blood scatters on the floor

Now I understand why
Some people volunteer going to war
and come back with immortal scar
and end up dying
for souls they owe nothing

Now I understand why
Some people dare to date Elmaut
unafraid of being cursed
by running until they burst

Now I understand that
pain, sometimes
can be the only cure
for loss
and loneliness

12/11/2014, 4:14 pm

Siang ini, di sebuah Metromini

"Cause what about, what about angels? They will come, they will go, make us special."
Not About Angels - Birdy

This is gonna be a super short and useless post, but I'm writing this for a fact that writing is especially cathartic.

Berhubung hari ini, dan empat hari sebelumnya, sekolah gue ada UTS, gue sama temen-temen anak BTA yang lain konsul di BTA Taman Puring. I've been so used to doing these repetitive activities that I can't see anything anything remarkable, day to day. Tapi siang ini, di sebuah Metromini, gue menemukannya.

Tiga puluh menit sebelum gue di Metromini, gue asyik cerita-cerita dan ketawa cekakak-cekikik sama Rini Mitha Noly Cheryl Nadya, ngegosipin kepsek sendiri sampe kepsek sekolah lain, sampe Rini cerita soal mitos kuntilanak yang terbukti benar dari tontonannya di Hitam Putih. I can't write the details soalnya bakal bikin lo ga nyaman dan ga appropriate aja rasanya HAHA. Terus berhubung kita juga baru kelar bahas soal latihan buat ulangan geografi besok yang materinya Inderaja, Rini tiba-tiba nyeletuk, "Tapi bisa lho, lo nge-detect penampakan pake kamera thermal. Ada application-nya di Play Store." Lagi asyik-asyiknya ngobrolin soal "dunia lain", lampu ruang santai BTA tiba-tiba mati.

Yang lain sontak teriak, tapi gue bengong diam statis aja gitu di tempat. Trus gue ngomong, "Teguran kali, ada yang nggak suka kita omongin." I just blurted out those words without calculating the effect that soon followed. Temen-temen gue makin parno, gue juga ikutan merinding. Akhirnya kita semua turun ke ruang santai di lantai satu, tapi topik masih belum diganti. Rini yang ikut Sisga (ekskul pecinta alam di 70) malah cerita soal kejadian "spesial"-nya semasa naik gunung. Mulai dari yang disasarin lah, ada kepala di pundaknya lah, sampe orang-orang yang dia kenal yang kerasukan sampe hampir lompat tebing.

Keasyikan ngobrol, gue sama Cheryl ga nyadar kalo langit udah mendung, sedangkan bus 614 itu LAMA BANGET datengnya. Selangka itu. But Fortuna shot me with a luck. Gue sama Cheryl bahkan ga nyadar kalo ada 614 yang lewat di samping kami persis waktu lagi ngobrol pas nyebrang.

And again, we were lucky. Masih banyak tempat duduk kosong, mungkin karena belum jam pulang kantor. Gue sama Cheryl duduk di belakang seorang kakek-kakek. Di jalan, gue nunjukin beberapa toko di kanan-kiri bus like a tour guide. I love it actually, pretending to be a tourist in my own city.

Begitu Cheryl turun di Barito, gue pun gabut. Nggak ada musik, gerimis mulai turun rintik-rintik. Berhubung gue paling anti (baca: kapok) tidur di bus soalnya pernah kelewatan halte sampe nyasar dan ngerepotin Refal (luv u, Fal), gue pun menajamkan indra gue. Gue celingukan ke kanan-kiri, merhatiin kucing dan anjing di toko-toko hewan sepanjang Barito, looking out of their cage with watchful eyes and bored gesture. Pas Metro udah lewatin Barito, gue mengalihkan perhatian gue ke penumpang bus yang lain, khususnya kakek di depan gue. Dia pake kemeja kotak-kotak yang warna birunya memudar, gagang kacamatanya diselotip, dan rambutnya udah 75% memutih di bawah topi merahnya.

And as soon as I looked at his cap, I got a sudden lump in my throat. Ga tau kenapa, dia ngingetin gue sama almarhum kakek gue, yang meninggal waktu gue kelas 5 SD. I know it's been so long, tapi dari cerita bonyok dan oom dan tante gue, I was his closest granddaughter. Almost every afternoon, he took me for a walk, wearing his red cap. Dia beliin gue es krim dan mainan, dan bahkan walau my mother shot him with disapproving look as we got home, beliau ga pernah kapok beliin gue apa yang gue mau.

Gue buru-buru merhatiin hal lain, lagi males baper. Tapi ga lama kemudian, di lampu merah, si kakek manggil tukang koran yang kebetulan lewat. Dia mau beli koran Kompas, tapi harganya ternyata empat ribu. Gue udah keluarin uang gue dari saku, mau bayarin, tapi urung. Si kakek akhirnya ngambil Pos Kota, dan tukang koran ngasih potongan 500 perak.

Ga lama, Metromini jalan dan berhenti lagi. Ibu-ibu yang ada di seberang si kakek turun. Si kakek berdiri dan ngoper plastik merah bawaannya ke kursi itu, sama korannya juga, and I noticed his hands and his feet were shaking. Terus korannya pun terbang ke tangga pintu depan. Si kakek teriak-teriak ke supir Metro, minta diberhentiin, dan dia udah jongkok buat ambil korannya, tapi gara-gara banyak motor, dia ditegur sama penumpang lain yang takut beliau kesamber. Akhirnya beliau duduk lagi, itu pun dinyinyirin sama si kernet dan penumpang bitchy di belakang gue. As he sat, he looked so empty. Koran itu belum dia baca sama sekali. And for inexplicable reason, his fragile back broke my heart.

Saking emosinya sama si kernet, gue ga sadar kalo Metro belok ke tikungan yang berlawanan sama tikungan ke rumah gue. Sama penumpang cewek di depan, gue teriak-teriak minta diturunin soalnya busnya ngebut. Waktu berdiri, I nearly lost my hold from the trail, sampe gue oleng. Si kakek pun narik tangan gue, nyegah gue dari jatuh. Gue bilang makasih singkat, terlalu terpana sampe diteriakin kernetnya, "Dek, mau turun ga?!" Si kakek nepuk punggung gue, and I saw his wrinkled hand, dan gue tiba-tiba inget setiap kali gue salim ke kakek gue sebelum dan sepulang sekolah.

Gue akhirnya turun dan lari. I cried. Cewek yang tadi turun bareng gue lari nyusul gue dan tiba-tiba nepuk bahu gue dan nanya, "Kenapa nangis?" Gue cuma bisa geleng ga jelas. Ga berapa lama, si cewek ngasih gue plastik bening dari tasnya sebelum lari sambil teriak, "Duluan yaa!"

Di tengah jalan, di tengah hujan, gue bengong total.

Gue akhirnya make plastik itu buat HP gue yang udah sekarat, wondering if she was an angel, the girl who talked to me. Everybody knows the superstition. Konon, ada malaikat yang jatuh bersama bulir hujan. Makanya kalo ada hujan ga boleh ngeluh, soalnya pasti adaaa aja rezeki. Gitu sih kata nyokap gue. Selama ini gue cuma mikir kalo teorinya cuma berlaku buat tukang ojek payung, but well, now I believe that.

Gue jadi mikir. Cewek malaikat itu baik banget. Dia pasti udah niatin bakal ngasih plastik itu ke gue, dan ga ragu karena gue orang asing. She acted her intention out. Sedangkan gue... andai gue memverbalkan pikiran gue buat bayarin koran si kakek, who until now, still reminds me of my deceased grandpa.

And then I ran home, carrying my phone in a plastic bag, crying.

Akankah kaukenang, jingga cakrawala petang itu?
berkaca pada luas samudra
nyiur melambaikan salam perpisahannya pada sang surya
langkahmu menyusuri tepi kubakan
tak takut akan apa yang mungkin kautemukan

Malam itu, kutemukan bintang di bawah telapak kaki
Siapa yang berani mencurinya dari sang langit?
Malam itu, temaram bulan pun kuabaikan,
karena ada jutaan cahaya cerlang,
terpancar di bawah kanopi kafe-kafe pinggiran

Kau menamai permainan ini "menggoda ombak"
kita berlari menyusuri gelombang dan mundur perlahan-lahan
matamu berair, tersedak pasir
Dari lambai rambutmu, dan deru angin di telinga
aku tahu kita menari
aku tahu alam menabuh musik di antara pijak kaki
buih yang pecah setelah menabrak karang
akankah kau mengenangnya?

Karena akan kukenang, hangat tanganmu kala kugenggam
Akan kukenang, aroma laut yang disamarkan wangi masakan
Akan kukenang, ujung celana yang tetap basah meski kugulung
Akan kukenang, petikan gitar dan kicau burung

Kawan,
seperti malam ini, kau tak terlupakan

Jimbaran, 20 Juni 2014

Good things (never) happen to those who wait

Sebelum kening kalian mengernyit gegara bingung sama judulnya, di mana gue menjungkirbalikkan paradigma "good things happen to those who wait," let me get it clear.

Ofc, "wait" di sini konotasinya negatif. I'm a notorious waiter known for procrastinating everything in sight. Apa-apa ditunda terus. Gue selalu kepingin nyari waktu sempurna dan pas buat ngelakuin sesuatu, but the time often slips before I realize it. The thing is, people, you'll never guess what could happen next.

Kayak kondisi gue sekarang contohnya. When I faced my mirror, I saw a bleary-eyed girl with crumpled face. Fyi, gue nggak tidur semaleman. Dan itu semua karena gue... nunda-nunda kerjaan.

Tempo hari gue beli buku di Books&Beyond, terus ngopi-ngopi cantik bareng Fajri my beloved friend. Pas pulang, I was tired but I knew I could read some pages, tapi gue malah leyeh-leyeh ga guna sambil main HP. AC gue nyalain ke suhu 16. Akhirnya gue nggak dapet apa-apa. Gue nggak sempet tidur siang juga soalnya keburu maghrib.

Abis salat maghrib, nyokap beliin gue kwetiau, yang gue tunda-tunda juga penyantapannya. Gue sibuk ketak-ketik laptop, ngelarin cerbung gue di Ms. Word, sambil ngopi. I'm sorta helpless to write without coffee. Udah kelar, gue nyalain internet. Gue buka blog private gue. Gue copas tulisan di Ms. Word ke sana. Everything had gone smoothly until my laptop went blank, right before I clicked "Publish post".

Gue nyante-nyante aja tuh. Gue nyalain juga charger-nya. Nggak sampe dua menit sejak gue nge-sync charger...

listriknya mati.

Gue mulai nggak santai. Kata nyokap sih, gardu PLN deket rumah kebakar, makanya mati listrik. Ya udah. Akhirnya gue turun dan makan kwetiau. Abis itu balik lagi ke kamar, only to realize... God, I was so helpless without electricity. Gue nggak bisa baca buku. Gue nggak bisa nyalain laptop. Sampe sinyal internet gue juga ngaco.

Akhirnya gue putusin buat tidur. Gue buka jendela, biar nggak panas banget gitu biar kata AC mati. Guess what?

Banyak nyamuk.

Gue emang paling anti sama makhluk yang satu ini, akhirnya gue tutup jendela. The situation happen next fulfilled my bet. Panasnya minta ampun ya Tuhan. Gara-gara nggak tahan, gue pun ke kamar adik gue dan ngambil Baygon.

"Eh, mau lo bawa ke mana Baygon-nya?!" Tiba-tiba adek gue bangun.

"Nyemprot nyamuk," jawab gue setengah hati.

"Tolol. Lo mau rumah kita kebakaran?"

Asli, gue udah tertohok banget sama omongan nyolotnya itu, but I found the thought made sense. Iya ya. Di sekeliling rumah lagi banyak lilin. Banyak api. Semprot minyak tanah mah sama aja cari mati.

Finally I went back to my bedroom and tried to sleep. I failed miserably.

Lalu gue inget gue udah nenggak dua gelas  kopi seharian ini.

Gue pun terlentang menatap langit-langit. Nyamuk-nyamuk ngerubung gue. Perut gue keroncongan. Mana malem-malem kayak ada yang jalan di atap gue, pula. I haven't slept. Hingga sekarang.

Gue jadi mikir, what if I had worked my ass off earlier? What if I had typed my stories once I got home? What if I hadn't drunk that goddamn coffee?

Now you meet my endless what-if list.

Bukan sekali ini aja sih gue kena masalah gara-gara kopi. Beberapa minggu lalu, gue kepingin banget cappucino cincau di sekitar rumah gue. Nggak deket, tapi nggak jauh juga. Kayak dari Bulungan ke Blok M Square gitu lah jaraknya. Akhirnya gue ke sana, jam 12, panas-panasan, dan guess what?

Tokonya belom buka, nyet.

Berhubung gue orangnya harus ngedapetin apa yang gue idamkan kalo udah setengah jalan, gue pun mikirin cara lain. Gue ke minimarket di belakang tukang capucin, beli kopi sendiri, dan pulang. Gue beli es batu dan getok sendiri. Gue bikin kopinya sendiri. Gue masukin es batunya, dannn....

Gelasnya kesenggol siku gue sampe jatoh.

Seakan belom cukup sial, nyokap gue ngamuk dan nyuruh gue ngepel+cuci barang-barang yang kena kopi gue. Gue laksanakan juga titah baginda. Sambil nangis-nangis bombay ceritanye. Kelar cuci piring dan ngepel, gue bikin kopi lagi. Dari awal. Gue bawa ke kamar gue. Pas gue mau ambil buku, gue sadar badan gue lengket sama keringat dan sisa tumpahan kopi.

Seogah-ogahnya gue, gue tetep mandi. As always sih, I made wrong choice.

Pas gue kelar mandi, kopi kedua gue udah dirubung semut.

Here came my earlier what-ifs. What if I had drunk that coffee before I bathed? Mungkin bakalan worth the struggle.

Itu baru yang berkaitan sama kopi. Minggu ini, entah udah berapa waktu yang gue abisin buat hal-hal yang sia-sia. Senin kemarin, gue bolos demi bikin KTP. Pas udah sampe di kelurahan, orangnya bilang belom bisa bikin KTP kalo belom ultah. Kamis-nya, waktu ada event lomba menyambut ultah 70 sekolah kami tercinta, hampir sekelas gue pada cabut. Gue masuk soalnya nggak enak kan, udah bolos sehari.

Sekelas gue akhirnya cuma sembilan orang yang masuk dan guru-guru terlalu sibuk ngurusin lomba. Akhirnya gue gabut 8 jam. Gue tidur-tiduran. Gue ngobrol ngalor ngidul sampe pulang. Gerbang baru dibuka jam tiga lantaran satpam yang jagain ikut lomba voli. And it was too late to go to Books&Beyond and do my bookshopping. Pas di jalan, gue lupa gue belom ngerjain tugas akuntansi gue yang bejibun. Akhirnya gue pulang, berlinangan air mata, cursing both my stupidity and my teacher's lies. Katanya pulangnya jam 12. Bullshit.

Berhubung gue udah terlanjur nggak mood parah, gue bolos kursus Prancis gue. Gue curhat ke Fadli, my lovely psychologist to be yang sekarang S2 di salah satu PTN terkemuka (nggak setermuka UI, tetep:p). Katanya, gue butuh hippo time.

I actually had no idea what hippo time was, so I Googled it. Fadli orangnya nyolot, kalo gue nggak tau pasti dicak-cakin bego. Padahal teori labelling itu dilarang dan fatal. Gimana sih lo.

Anyway, hippo time ternyata, harfiah gampangnya, "berkubang" dulu dalam kesedihan kita. Ngasih diri kita waktu sebelum menapak tahap SUMO: Shut Up and Move On. Waktu gue pamerin kecerdasan superfisial gue ke Fadli, doi bilang, "Manusia sama kuda nil tuh 11/12. Kuda nil berkubang, manusia berkabung." He stated something original, like ever, and his saying made into my favourite quotations list.

Dan lo tau lah, apa yang gue lakuin di masa-masa hippo time gue.

Yak, procrastinating.

Once again, I drowned in grieve begitu sadar kerjaan gue nggak kelar. Sebelum gue ngetik post ini pun, gue SMS Fadli, and wise as ever, he said, "Nothing to lose kok Cha."

Dan gue kayak, "I lost lots of time."

Dia bales, "You didn't lose what you've learned, though. And you've got another story to tell."

His advice opened my eyes. So I here I am, writing this story, nungguin listriknya nyala (udah sebelas jam woy matinya), hoping I don't lose anything anymore.

Kids, don't procrastinate. I'm serious. It's bad for your health. Good things never come to those who wait. Good things happen to those who work their asses out.

Do it now. Sometime "later" becomes "never".