When the last of the raindrops smothered the wailing earth that day, she thought everything had been lost. No, not in a bad way. In fact, she was content. There was no better day to celebrate—yes, she decided to celebrate it rather than grieving over it—her loss than today. After all, she had come all this way and lost too many things to even count with her mind.
Hari itu hujan turun dengan deras.
Seperti hari-hari lainnya ketika kota Jakarta diguyur hujan, orang-orang mulai sibuk memikirkan bagaimana cara mereka pulang. Bagi yang rumahnya jauh, mungkin mereka akan mengkhawatirkan jalanan yang ramai. Bagi yang rumahnya dekat dengan kantor sekalipun, hujan bukanlah sesuatu yang menyenangkan. Continue reading “Skenario Pertemanan Optimis”
There’s just something about marriage that excites people. The other day, when Felicia—my friend of 8 years and counting—announced her marriage, I couldn’t be happier. I genuinely wanted to congratulate her from the bottom of my heart, because I was truly happy for her.
But at the same time, there is this lingering, quaint loneliness in the corner of my heart, whispering the advent of a certain end. Continue reading “Bon Voyage”
The idea that a writer ought to write in a coffee shop of some kind has been quite prevalent in this modern society, don’t you think? Whenever we picture an author in our mind, for example, the very idea of them typing away in the nook of one dusty cafe might show up in our mind unassumingly.
I, for one, am an example of those stereotypical writer. Although I might add that I don’t think writing in coffee shops is particularly cool or on trend, I want to emphasize that most writers, based on my experience, do like writing in coffee shops the best. Discounting the most comfortable writing space which is our own bedrooms, of course. But I digress.
And it doesn’t even end at coffee shops. Us writers write almost everywhere. I’ve watched a Youtube video of a group of writers who spent their vacation writing in an old castle. How amazing is that? Often times, the “writing spot” doesn’t even have to be grand or obvious like coffee shops and vintage castles. More often than not, you can find these lovely places in your neighborhood! Continue reading “My Favorite Writing Spots”
I have always been fascinated by the idea of being a valedictorian. You know; standing in front of people, delivering a speech that will hopefully change the world—or simply waste a few minutes of people’s lives.
The very foundation of using your own words and voice to instill a drop of water in the bucket we call “our generation” is a peculiarly foreign thing to me, and thus, fascinating.
Unfortunately, even though I believe I have the passion to deliver these words, I did not have the qualifications to do so in my graduation ceremony. That day, I sat in the middle row of the great hall with shame and listened halfheartedly to the valedictorian’s speech.
I must say, the speech itself felt so fabricated with all those subliminal advertisements of our university it even made me sick. But the person who spoke in front of us seemed like your typical good kid. I even wondered seriously whether this person we call the valedictorian actually enjoyed his campus life.
Judging that he had less fun experience during university just because he was smarter than everyone else was, of course, not a fair thing to do. But as I sat there and pondered about all these explosive train of thoughts, I began to truly wonder whether this person, this valedictorian, at the very least, really wanted to deliver the speech. Continue reading “For Adventurers Clad in Long Robes”
Hello everyone!
This excerpt is something I wrote back in 2015, but have been neglecting ever since. Part of the reason was that I didn’t know where to take the story; I didn’t think of the premise or concept when I started writing it. Unfortunately, the gullible practice turned out to be so interesting and I ended up saving the draft on my computer, only to forget all about it later.
I haven’t decided on what should I do with the story. Should I abandon the project, or should I attempt to finish the story? Do let me know what you think about it! 😉
***
Mobil yang membawa kami pergi dari Jakarta hari itu melaju dengan sangat perlahan. Aku masih bisa melihat awan yang berarak di langit biru saat itu, seolah segalanya baru terjadi kemarin. Diriku yang masih berusia sepuluh tahun mengintip dari kaca jendela mobil, melihat gugusan bangunan yang mungkin tidak akan kulihat lagi untuk waktu yang sangat lama.
Recently, it feels so hard convincing myself to write something new. You know, be it a novel, a short story, or even a short poetry. There’s always this inexplicable part of my heart that just wouldn’t listen, no matter how hard I try to tell myself to write. Something is clearly holding me back, and I don’t know how to fight it.
Maybe the cause of such phenomenon was my fear of expectations. Of living up to a certain standard. Of not disappointing anyone with lousy, uninspiring prose. I’m constantly haunted by a phantom of failure—a projected hallucination of all the walls around me crumbling, should I fail to live up to everyone’s, and my own, expectations.
I think there is something twisted about early education in Indonesia: they told us that we must never sort and pick our friends.
In reality (at least, in my reality, since reality itself is subjective by nature), we get to pick our friends even from the earliest stages of our lives.
Maka berkatalah bulan
kepada bintang yang berpulang;
merajut serabut malam
di langit yang kelam: Continue reading “Perjalanan Bintang”
Don’t you find it funny that people drift apart for no reason?
The other day, I accidentally met one of my childhood friends in a shopping mall. The very first thought that came to my mind once our eyes met was, “Crap, now I have to make small talks.” And I don’t know if my friend realized it, but during that moment, the only thing I wanted was to escape from him, go home, and bury myself under a pillow.
Yes, I have been called an introvert a number of times, but I really doubt being an introvert would drive me so much that I couldn’t enjoy a short, innocent meetup with an old friend. Especially since nothing bad ever happened between us; it’s not like he was my ex, or he bullied me in school. If anything, our past relationship was cool. Continue reading “Watching the Knots Unfurl”
Alicia Lidwina 