Tuesday, 15 May 2012

A Piece of My Mind on Book Stores

A walk into a book store for me is always like a walk into a world of fantasy.

A book store is a place teeming with universe after universe of knowledge. Emotions of every kind linger in one place and another. Every book is special. Every book acts a bridge that leads to new destinations. Every book is the key that can open different kinds of doors. Every book has a soul only waiting to be touched by hands that are ours. And I must state here: without books, even our souls don’t have a definition.

All books have words obviously: printed words mostly in black permanent ink. Words are not meant to just stay still on pieces of white papers. Our mind should give them the chance to dance here and there. Let the imagination runs wild and strong, that what words do to us. Words are like music, the rhythm enchants people into delving a lot more. Words are like flowers, the beauty puts people in awe. Nothing can ever challenge the words printed neatly in the books.

And as one person that goes by the name of Alex has stated: for some people, a book store is a candy store. For me, book stores are like shops selling different types of chocolate. I can’t help but to be a kid once more each time I let my feet touch the floor that is the book store. The sweet scents of the pages of the book are inviting, the colourful covers are feast for the eyes, rows after rows of book, in shelves, on the tables… one can’t help but to just flip open all those books, savour the intensity of the language offered, laugh when you stumble upon something funny, nod yourself when you are in agreement with another thing, get deep into the whimsical or logical minds of the authors.

I can stay for so long of a time in any book stores.

Book stores are a wonder for me. If I could grant myself a wish, I would like to have a book store for myself.

White Smoke

The way the cigarette rolls
Between your lips
As I see you lit the fire

It comes alive
It comes alive
A metaphor
For people think of it
As death

I used to snap a cigarette
Into pieces of two
I gave life to the cigarette
Though I did not in any way
Give my lungs the taste of it
You were angry at me

I see you lit up the cigarette
I see you are happy
Yes the metaphor of death
But when you fill your lungs with
The white smoke
You seem to be filled
In life

A Second

For just a fleeting moment
I want someone to listen to me

Something from me
Anything from me

Even if
I don’t know how to produce them
Even if
I’m not sure whether I should produce them
Even if
You can’t follow them

For just a fleeting moment
I want someone else to listen to me

But now it seems
I have never known who I want to see

Oh, crap

Monday, 14 May 2012

The Cliff

Ah, sweet girl, 16, I presumed? Her hair strawberry blonde hair, cascading behind her shoulder, her eyes, as blue as a cloudless summer sky, as azure as the sea below: in short, she’s a beauty. This is a cliff she’s standing at. Why is she here?

Here she is left standing alone. In her hand, a letter. In her eyes, no emotion at all, but I see that you were perhaps crying just now. As she looks down, the eyes show signs of terror, but still she stares down the dark brown precipice. The salty ocean brakes into mists as the waves find the shore. The sweet, sweet sound of waves, churning down below in inviting her to the abyss. I would like to believe that she’s about to plunge herself down. No girl. The sea is rough. I would love to think that she thinks about the complications of the thing that she was going to do, but then again, once the thing is done, matters relating to the complicatedness [yes, a long word] will be, forgive me for my lack of ethics, drowned under the sea. What matters are the implications that will come later. 16 is too young of a life. More to go, more to come, more to lose, more to achieve, more to be wrong, and yet, there are more to be right.

This is totally not the best of option. She moves even further. Why girl? Why? Is this the end that you want? Is this…

She chooses the end. Damn it girl, you choose the end.

I won’t help you now. I can see you trying to survive, but you choose to sink yourself down the hellhole. I can hear your cries for help, so soft, so delicate. I can see the last of your life being soaked by the water. I see you sink into the bottom.

I’m sorry I can’t help you. I'm sorry I've left you rotten in the sea.

Fragments and Chaos

As far as I see it, I can’t help but trying to fathom it. I sighed then, I am sighing now, I will sigh again after this. “The way you slipped into my mind when I am asleep, it brings me nothing but sorrow and the inability to close my eyes the whole night.”

What kind of magic have you given to me? How could you be so mean? How could you just leave your body, turn into an astral projection and then climb to my dreams, here and then, now and again? The shirt is sweaty, the night is as hot as ever, but the blanket is still on me. I am cocooned in a protective mode. I want you, but have you ever seen me beyond anything else?

Now, I’m left with just fragments and chaos. I wouldn’t think so much of those things. I’m a shadow without a body. A shadow only exists with light: you are the light, you are the shine. I followed you then, I am still following you now, I will, for all that might happen, follow you in the future. But as I see it, I can’t help but denying it. When you see me stalking behind you, you ought to shut your radiance, and I will cease to exist as your shadow again. I see that, I shall never be behind you again.

I’m just fragments and chaos. I’m a shadow. I’m gone from this world. Maybe you’re not cruel.

The Fault in Our Stars

Some stories just get you smitten in the heart, some stories have wonderful, flawless writing, some stories are loaded with wonderful characters, some stories move you to tears. I guess The Fault in Our Stars is all of those in one, plus a few more. This novel is written by John Green, and it is not his first. He’s pretty seasoned in the novel business, though I admit, this is the first story from him that I have ever read. Honestly, it is great.

The story is basically about two cancer patients who meet each other in a support group therapy session, and, obviously fall in love. On the outside, it looks like that usual petty boy-meets-girl love story, but I assure you, it’s not, it never is. Its brilliance is unparalleled in the entire universe [sorry for the pun]. Who says you can’t put two ailing teenagers together and create a sick masterpiece out of them? [Sorry for the pun, again!] I love the characters a lot. I love Augustus Waters [henceforth, Gus] – his witty remarks, his metaphorical ideas, his ‘I-say-what-I-wanna-say’ attitude… girls, he is that one person you would love to have as a boyfriend. And then, there’s Hazel Grace Lancaster [henceforth, Hazel], a girl with faulty lungs who tells us the story [since the story is from her point of view]. I feel sorry for her because she says she can’t live that long, but at least she has Gus right? Right? And she’s not that bad on the thinking/statement-making department herself. Then, there’re Isaac and the Gus’ and Hazel’s families, and Amsterdam [a place, I know], and even that loathed Peter Van Houten - you cannot just stop loving the characters.

TFiOS shines through and through [there’s that pun again]. The tale weaves comedic moments but then as the novel progresses through, you’ll be absorbed in the melancholic moments that abound in the end. The author’s penchant of adding the languages of today’s teenagers [you don’t say?], the reference to science and math here and there [do you know some infinities are bigger than the others?], heck, he even created a novel that Hazel loves to read, and guess what? I thought that novel really exists. I blame him for having a make-believe epigraph from that so-called An Imperial Affliction by Peter Van Houten, and what d’ya know? Van Houten here comes from the famous chocolate brand... John, you really know how to play with my obsession towards chocolate. The language, oh the language, I salute John for the amazing prose he has, for the dialogues, for everything written in it. Oh yeah, because this is an American novel, some content might not be suitable for kids, or those who act like kids.

One couldn’t wish for a better novel. It’s moving, it’s funny, it’s heartbreaking – it stands on its own. The novel is a star, and a luminous one at that.

Sunday, 13 May 2012


The last light of the day was disappearing behind the sea. Walker walked aimlessly, thinking about the things he have done towards her. How cruel I was, he thought. It never occurred to him that deep down, she  might love him too.

She might love him.

Not now, after the terrible insults that he threw at her. It’s been a week. Just let me die already, but that was not an option. Walker looked ahead only to see that girl walking towards him. Shit. How did she happen to be in the same place, he would never know, but now was the perfect time to run from that beautiful face. He would never show his face again for a million years.

“Walker!” the girl shouted, stopping Walker on his track. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?” he snapped. And he wished he did not. The girl was agape, and on the verge of crying, but she did not let her tears fall. Oh, how Walker hoped to touch her skin, to catch her scent, to stop her from crying. His ego would not let him. He just looked at her for a short second and left the place.

“Walker, forgive me…” the girl weakly pleaded. “I… I… didn’t…” Walker cut her short, “just leave me alone!”

“Walker!” she shouted. “Walker, DAMN IT, Walker!” her voice was louder this time. “I don’t love you!” Walker retorted. “Never will…” again he continued his walk.

But he knew it was not the case. Walker loved him since the beginning. He longed for her ever since he met her the first time, and that was years ago. They were the best of friends. They made sandcastles together, they loved those different kinds of chocolate milk shakes on the beach, they hate Mathematics, they were… inseparable. So, why couldn’t the best of friends be more than that? It could not be something that happened just in all those films, wouldn’t it? Perhaps, it was.

God, I love her, the thought formed in her mind. I will never stop loving her.

“Walker… stop, Walk…” something did manage to stop Walker from walking. He heard a soft thud. “Juniper?” Walker turned around only to see Juniper lying on the ground. “Junnie, don’t you play with me.” He said, and surprisingly, it had a hint of playfulness. The next time he uttered her name however, it was something else, “Juniper?”

She lay immobilised on the sand. Walker broke into a run, “My God, Juniper!” she was pale, and somewhat cold. Walker quickly carried her, one arm on her back, another holding her thighs. In normal circumstances, this was what Walker would like to do with Juniper, but now was not that normal circumstance. He ran towards his home, knowing that it was the nearest, kicked the door as hard as he could, and cried, “Mom!” no answer, “MOM! HELP ME!” this time even louder.

“Wait...” his mom finally replied, “What’s the matt… God, Junnie!”

“Please mom!” Walker said.” Put her in the car, hurry!”

What Walker remembered after that was cuddling almost lifeless Juniper on the backseats. Her face was so close to him, and he could not stop watching her. He would want to kiss him, but the time was wrong, too wrong. Not in this old, faulty car, not when his mom was around [he swore he heard his mom calling his name a few times, but reply he did not], not when lovely Juniper was behaving like an already dead person. Then, Walker remembered running beside her stretcher, holding her smooth brunette hair. Even like this, she was beautiful. It was a long journey, made even longer by the uninviting coldness of the white walls, and odours of medicines here and there.

God, don’t let her leave me.

“Please, sir, you can’t go beyond here. Please stay.” The nurse told him. “I need to be with her, please.” Walker begged. “I’m sorry, Sir. Hospital rules” and the doors were shut, but not before Walker saw a glimpse of Juniper being carried away into who knows where. Minutes later, Juniper’s parents came, along with her brothers. Walker could not be bothered with them. Yes, he loved them, but now, nothing else mattered anymore. Nothing else… besides Juniper. Couldn’t they get any faster? He thought.

Walker’s delusion was cut short when he realised that Juniper’s mother was suddenly standing in front of him. “Laura”, their relationship was that close that Walker did not have to call her formally. “I know you love her.” Laura said no emotion withstanding.

“I screwed it.” Walker cracked, eyes suddenly swollen with tears. “I don’t deserve her.”

“She told me all about it.”

About how I called her a fucking liar? Walker thought. “About how I told her that she was nothing else but a nuisance to my life? He added.

“She was a nuisance, but a good one, isn’t it, Walker?” Laura said it with a motherly voice. Definitely she was trying to calm him down.

“I lost her.”

“No, you don’t. She loves you. She still loves you.” Laura put her finger on Walker’s chin. Walker looked up, and he suddenly hugged her. “I love her.” Walker said, his voice almost unheard.

“I know, Walker.”

Seconds turned into minutes, and then hours have passed, but there was still not a sign of any nurses or doctors coming to tell them about Juniper. Walker strode to and fro waiting for any news. He imagined things, things that would happen to Juniper and him in the future: a big house, with a large garden, and many kids. That was what Juniper always dreamt of. Juniper has always been the one for him, he knew. No one else would make him suffer in pain this much, and no one else would give him joy like Juniper did. Juniper was the joy of his life. And he would like to think that he was the same for her. Was he the same thing for her? Love was hard.

“No, no… NO!” somebody was yelling at the top of her lung. Walker recognised the voice. It was Laura’s. His heart started to make the wrong assumptions, but hearing Laura like that, and seeing his own mom trying to console her when Laura was straddled on the floor, it could only mean one thing.

“No.” he darted towards the group, and grabbed the doctor by his collar tightly, who was putting his usual sympathetic face when announcing a patient’s death. “TELL ME!” he roared. “I’m sorry. We couldn’t do…”

“BULLSHIT!” Walker shouted at the top of his lungs while still grabbing the doctor’s collars. Everyone in the vicinity [and what a large vicinity it was turned towards them to see the commotion. “She’s not dead!”

“No, I’m sorry, sir. You should…”


“No! No!” he grabbed the doctor even harder. It seemed as if he was trying to assault him, and assault he did. He punched the guy, throwing him backwards. A few people dashed towards Walker, restraining Walker. “LEMME GO! LET ME…”

“SOMEBODY, JUST GET THIS BOY AWAY BEFORE I CALL THE SECURITY!” clearly he was filled with anger. No one needed to call the security. Walker furiously walked away from the place. He ran not caring the world, he ran not knowing what his future would look like. He ran, sometimes bumping onto a person or two. Finally, he was outside the big hospital. It was night now. No clouds and the moon radiated the light brightly. Sagittarius, as always was ready to shoot his arrow. Walker slowly traipsed to the middle of the field and shouted loudly.

Finally, he shed his tears. One by one, the clear droplets fell to the ground. He did not realise his mom was behind. “Let her go, Walker.” She said affectionately as she hugged her. “Let her go.”

“She’s not dead… she’s not dead… she’s not-“ Walker repeated the sentence a couple of time, while his mom embraced him, rubbing his back, said stuff to comfort him. Walker only knew how to cry a little more before his entire world went black.

It had been one week after Juniper’s death. The service was done, and everything went back to normal, or as normal as it would be. Walker was at Juniper’s room, watching her things: her collections of CDs, Justin Bieber and One Direction were on the top – they always argued about Juniper’s obsession towards The Biebs and 1D – and many more others. There were novels here and there, and some small stuffs that Juniper loved to collect. Pictures of Juniper with her family were hanged around the walls. So did Juniper with Walker. One large picture frame in the middle showed a pretty shocked Juniper’s face when Walker kissed her on her left cheek. Seeing that photo made Walker realise that there would never be any more moments like that.

“Hey, mind if I come in?” Juniper’s mother was standing on the door. “This is your daughter’s room.” Walker replied.

“I always love that picture.” Laura told Walker. She was referring to that same picture. “Are you going to change this room?” Walker asked out of nowhere. “No.” she answered, and then added, “I guess I let this be a sanctuary for her soul.”

“You believe in God?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Laura remarked. “At least, I can believe that there’s a good place for her to live in now.”

“Why did she never tell me?”

“That she had a heart disease?” Laura said, knowingly. “Juniper didn’t want to make you suffer.”

“If she let me, I would make her life happy.”

“And when she’s gone… you’ll suffer even more.”

“Am I not suffering now?” Walker responded

“Walker, if you understand, you will be able to justify the reason for the thing she did.”

“Justify?” Walker asked. He was confused. Laura just smile. “She asked me to give you this, in case… you know.” She walked towards a desk and took something from there. She handed Walker the thing. It was a book, with a photo of Juniper in front.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” Laura said and went out silently, leaving Walker alone again. Walker stared at the book for while before he rested himself on the bed. Opening it, he saw pictures after pictures of Juniper, along with quotations, graphics, a lot of things. It was as if the book was something that kept Juniper’s secret. Here and there, photos of Juniper and Walker cropped up. Walker could not help but smile. There were too many memories. He spent 30 minutes looking at the boom, his feeling alternated between joy, bliss, and sadness. In the final page, a sentence was written in big, bold letters.


Walker gazed at the words intently. He could not believe that she was gone. He screwed his last moments with her. How could he ever forgive himself? Finally, he decided to close the book when he saw something sticking out from the back. It looked like an envelope. He quickly took it.

‘To Walker’ was the only thing written. Walker tore it apart and fished out the content. He read the letter quietly on Juniper’s bed.

To Walker

Hey there my dearest Walker. Before I begin my so-called lecture to you, just one thing: keep the book properly… I will haunt you if you manage to get coffee stains on it. Anyway, if you get this, it will definitely mean that my body is in a) the morgue or b) the cemetery with a tombstone that has the phrase 'loving daughter and friend' and am currently on the long trip towards somewhere. I would love to go to Sagittarius.

I guess even though we’ve been friends for 10 years, I still don’t trust you with one thing: telling you that I have some heart disease with an exotic name and that anytime I may fall in front of you. Believe me, I don’t intend to do that. It’s just that, I don’t want to destroy your heart with news like that. I like to see you happy around me – or being awkward around me – hahaha.

God, I don’t even know how to write a letter. You better not laugh.

I know you’re mad at me because you think you are not loved, but that’s not the truth. If you read this properly, I have a heart disease. I don’t want you to suffer because of me. The real thing is: I love you. I’ve always been, and I’ll always do. Yeay, I’ve said that. What happens to us if suddenly I die while we’re kissing? You’ll be heartbroken, and I can’t live with that fact [yes, I know I’m dead when you read this]. Which is why I was forced to act like a fucking liar... Yes, I was hurt, Walker.

But then, it occurred to me that maybe what I did was wrong. I love you, and somehow, it kills me too, Walker. It kills me that I can’t grab your right hand in a way that means something else. It kills me not to be able to walk with you in the beach and have you treating me all those chocolate milkshakes. I want to talk petty stuff with you, argue about JB with you, play war games with you, watching rom-coms until you fall asleep with head on my shoulder, singing karaoke with you… More than that, I see you with me in my dreams as someone that I really love.

Maybe, I should have done that, but I just can’t watch you fall down into oblivion, losing so many precious lights just because of my own fading beacon. I can’t bear that, Walker.

You are the best thing that has ever happened to my short life. You made me laugh, you made me cry, you made me smile, you made me angry… you made everything out of me and I just can’t thank you enough for existing in my life. I will never forget you, Walker. The moment you walked into my life, I toyed with your name, and that moment too was when I fell in love with you. I will never forget you. Just stay happy even when I’m not around, cause again, I’ll haunt you if you don’t. Haha~ just kidding… oh well, not really.



Walker could not suppress his smile, even if it had a tinge of sorrow. Juniper’s liveliness shone through even in a letter. Walker stood up, looked around, and paced to the big frame containing Juniper and him. He touched it, closed his eyes, and finally said with a small grin on his face:

Goodbye, Juniper. I will never forget you.

Tuesday, 8 May 2012

Think Good Thoughts

The need to post this is high… heheh

Rather than thinking bad about what other people have done to us, wouldn’t it be better to just accept or think good about the things that happened? I feel that most of the times, we tend to try searching for the flaws of anything, even if they are really just nothing at all. Look, yeah, so we hate someone/something, but well, they are supposed to be like that [e.g.: the attitudes of the commanders of Kesatria Negara, among others]. [Errr… if you see this, uhhh… hi?]

You can expect to have the world to treat you perfectly all the time, isn’t it? Sometimes, what I want to do is to forget or at least, not to dwell on what seems to be bad to me, directly or indirectly. People just destroy themselves with hatred and stuffs, that’s what they do. Little things get escalated to a giant mass of, I don’t know, first-world crisis? Even problems that existed like two, three years ago get back to the present time. I think we should just stop negative thoughts. Yes, it is hard. Like when in exam, and you think you have done wrong, you start to feel that, oh, I'm gonna fail... I guess a little is okay to get you going, but a lot will just make you suffer.

The same goes to relationship. Even if you not in agreement with someone else, or your bond ends suddenly, blaming the other party is not going to help you in a long term. It's not good to put a shade of black on what used to be a great.

Existence~ Hahah~

So, this happened

I woke up one day to go to INTEC. It was quite early in the morning but as a dedicated student [~vain], I had to do it since my class started at 8.30am. My roommate also had a class with me that day at 10.30. The funny thing was, after I woke up, I saw him surfing the net, hands on the keyboard and all. Usual thing, I guessed. Anyway, he didn’t go to the class that day.

He knew he had a class, so why did he skip it? A few days later, he told me that I didn’t wake him up? Queer, big time. I told him I saw that he was wide awake. He said, no he didn’t.

So now, my theories:

a. My eyes creatively made a mental image of him
b. He was sleepwalking or in this case, sleepsurfing
c. Is there something else that I should know about?

But life in Cemara has been pretty good so far… blergghhh~ I think a lot of other people experienced things even more horrifying than this… not that this is horrifying. Meh~~~

Monday, 7 May 2012

The Book Thief

What if Death narrates a story for you? Okay, maybe not… but fictionally, he could do that. This is where the novel The Book Thief comes in. Written by Markus Zusak, this novel is set in Himmel Strasse, Molching during pre-WWII Nazi Germany era, when the phrase ‘Heil Hitler!’ was still in use and Mein Kampf was a bestseller.

The narrator of the story as I’ve told you is Death, and unlike what you think of him, Death here actually loves to talk about colours and is fond of human. For him, yes, it’s his job to take people’s lives and he couldn’t question God, but he thinks that the deaths of human, innocent ones particularly, are caused by the catastrophic mind of the humans themselves. That is true. In one way, Death here is almost like a friend telling you his own story. As grim as the story is, there are still funny moments here and there.

The real protagonist here though is a young girl named Liesel Meminger. She is forced to live with a foster family, which luckily loves her. Her lovable Papa, Hans Hubermann is an accordionist, while her Mama, Rosa, well, she might not be what you think a perfect mother, especially when she tends to call Liesel as Saumensch, an insult that unfortunately will not be given an explanation here, but yeah, she loves Liesel. Another person loves Liesel, and he’s lemon-haired, blue-eyed Rudy Steiner. A boy with an ideal German feature, he always asks Liesel to kiss him, but doesn’t get it until, well, something happens. Another character comes in the middle of the story, a guy who poses such a big danger to the Hubermann family when they protect him, Max Vanderburg. He is a Jewish, and if you were to be a Jew during that time, then you might as well commit suicide.

Book thief here refers to Liesel, as she loves to steal books to read. For her, words are something powerful, able to build a nation, or destroy people’s heart. Hitler has proved it for her. Around her, people are targeting Jews as their enemies, but Liesel [and her parents] still take care of Max. Liesel grows up amidst hell obscured by the name Himmel [that’s heaven], craving for and thieving words and books, and loving people, hoping that things will get better. Death follows her, and never does she know that something will happen to the thing she loves.

The novel is written in quite a different way. When Death feels as if he needs to tell us something important, he will do it boldly, literally. Everything – from the character, to Death, to the colours, the attention of the details – is crafted wonderfully. 
Some features, like The Word Shaker and The Standover Man supposedly created by Max Vandenburg adds novelty to the novel. Yeah, maybe 600 pages might be too long for some people. In fact, this book is not meant for fast reading. There are some many things to absorb.

The Book Thief: it’s poignant, it’s beautiful, it’s an absorbing read. Words can indeed capture people’s hearts, even Death feels it.

If You Were That Guy?

Perspectives differ between different people, and sometimes [or maybe lots of times], they cause problems. I mean, everyone has that moment when he/she thinks that a remark – bad or good remark doesn’t matter, but the bad ones are pretty damaging, while good ones, uhhh, may cause [a slight] vanity in some people – is actually/indirectly directed to them.

People will get mad, honestly. We don’t have a metaphysical ability that enables us to see what other people are thinking. The thing is we cannot refrain ourselves from giving heinous/snarky/bad/atrocious remarks towards other people if we think that they are attacking us, especially if those people are those who used to be closed with us. Perhaps, we think that they are just toying with our feeling when the truth is it is nothing important at all.

If you are not sure about a thing, then better to just keep calm and shut up.

Wednesday, 2 May 2012


It’s strange how people start to hate [maybe that’s too big of a word] the presence of each other when things between them have collapsed, and it happens on all types of relationship. The joys of the past stay in the past and many determine not to relive them all over again. Then again, it is far-fetched to say that some people are also the ones who watch the everyday conducts of those now-hated-persons like a hawk watching a prey?

Yes, maybe you want to show how happy you are as prove that you can live just fine without him or her. That’s your kind of ‘revenge’. In the same time, you hide around the corner stalking him or her to see how that person is doing without you. If anything bad happens to them, wow, that’s your great news. If it’s good, well, you try to convince yourself that it won’t last long, or say that you are 100 times better than that ‘anything’. One word from that person and you’re mad. In the same time, you still try to shove the mistakes that lead to the destruction back to that person.

And the cycle continues viciously. It’s hard to live in peace. Still, former memories will stay…maybe one will try to even push them to the back of his mind. Seems like there are no other ways to salvage what’s left. Just don’t try creating an enemy out from someone you used to love.

The Avengers Assemble!!!

The Avengers is without a doubt, A MASTERPIECE OF EPIC PROPORTION. That’s all I want to say.
Black Widow is a sizzling babe on fire
CaptainAmerica is the old glorious defender
Hawkeye sharply shoots without losing his coolness
Iron Man is one steel-hearted warrior
The Hulk smashes with an extreme anger
Thor mortally bolts and hammers down adversaries

Oh yeah, I’ve a crush on Hawkeye