Maka Tulislah

Ditulis pada 10 Mei 2013

Harapanmu tak mutlak berteman sepi
Pemikiranmu bukan pasti tak berarti
Semangatmu belum tentu tak menulari
Usahlah kau jadikan mereka milikmu pribadi.

Jika harapan tak mampu kau pikul sendiri, bagilah ia kepada sesama
Jika pemikiran terlalu riuh tak kunjung luruh, lantangkan gemanya kepada angkasa
Jika semangat terlalu berkobar, bagilah pendarnya ke seluruh dunia
Tularkan yang mengusikmu, kepada mereka yang bertuan hati.

Karena tiada mungkin semangat, pikiran dan harapan itu, jika tak berpenghuni
Mereka mendiami jiwa-jiwa yang bertahta nurani
Jiwa-jiwa yang diam-diam sepi dalam diamnya,
Jiwa-jiwa yang diam-diam menggeliat dalam diamnya,
Jiwa-jiwa yang diam-diam meraung dalam diamnya,
Jiwa-jiwa yang milikmu, milikku, dan milik mereka.

Coba kau berputar, lalu lihat sekitar, barang sebentar

Barangkali kan kau lihat temaram diantara pekat
Barangkali kan kau dengarkan kidung diantara gemuruh
Barangkali kan kau temukan lembayung di mendung cakrawala

Karena benakmu, pikiranku, maupun gelisah kita pada hari ini,
adalah sebuah penentuan untuk masa depan.

Maka tulislah. Lalu antarkan kepada seluruh mata.


I Might Give Up On Skirt, Thanks to You Pervies

So yeah, it sucks to be a woman (note that I’m saying this in a very sarcastic tone). I guess I’m damned with this ‘hysteria’ that lies under my skin. It’s very hard to be one because society however ‘controls’ the way you talk, behave, dress, act, etc. If you don’t match the minimum requirements (I’m not saying ‘religious’, let’s not start with that), then you’re nothing but a *insert any name here*, *and here*, *and here*.

Why can’t we have the same privilege as men, to do whatever the shit we want to do? Why can’t women feel safe going out by herself night and day? Why can’t we dress up whatever the hell we want? Why can’t we feel comfortable by the way we are without your eyes leeching off like parasites?

So to speak, I love skirt; long, medium, short. Boys must be missing out, they don’t how skirts could liberate you that no pants would ever be able to (exception for transvestites). Anyway, yesterday I wore my favorite skirt. Skort, to be exact. It’s a short that perfectly disguises as a skirt. I waited for my boyfriend to pick me up to work on this side of the road and it kills me inside every time I saw people took a double check – even staring — at my thighs (even they are not the best thighs in the world. “Ginuk”, my bf once called them. They’re just regular thighs layered with fat– yet nutritious. Lawl). I went to a stall to buy mineral water and guess what? The owner talked to my thighs. Literally. He even took multiple checks on them, as if he wanted to make sure they were real. I took the bottle and managed to find a seat near that stall, trying to forget what just happened.

Apparently, you can’t wear short skirt AND smoking at the same time. Things were just getting worse.

When I was sitting there, there was this guy on a bike slowly approaching (at the same time, checking at my thighs) and carefully parked his bike next to me. I wasn’t sure what he wanted to do there because I kept looking at my phone. Minutes later he decided to buy mineral water from the same stall, then lighted his cigs while still sitting on his bike. I called my boyfriend if I could wait someplace else because I was starting to feel uncomfortable. Then I decided to wait in a food stall nearby, located 200m from the previous one. I was ordering hot tea when I realized that creepy guy already seated next to me, ordering the same thing. What. The. Heck. Realizing that this is a red flag — and since there were only few people in there– I tried to be cool while looking for a chance to find a different seat. Finally my boyfriend came and the drama ended.

Then it strikes me. Should I really give up on wearing skirt for the sake of my security? Don’t even make me start with rape myth (I can’t believe there is actually something that is dumb and gross at the same time) where people believe women are responsible for the victimization like “Of course she got raped, she dressed like a whore”. Don’t even dare to tell me to cover myself, it doesn’t solve anything.

Fuck free will, for there’s no such thing. And the options are more limited for those who were born with boobs and uterus. HOW SAD IS THAT?

Do Female Characters on Video Games Are ‘Harming’ Our Body Image?

As a child, I grew as a stay-at-home kid. Me and my older brother didn’t have any friends around the neigbourhood beside our school friends. So other than piano dan painting course, we spent most of the free time by reading books, comics, and playing video game. I hardly remember what was the first console we had in our home (I assumed it’s Sega), but I remembered that we played a lot. Raised as a daughter where the environment was build upon ‘precise dichotomy’ between girls and boys, I found most of the games back then were so ‘masculine’ (except Tetris) and highly themed with Damsell in Distress where men are aggressive and women are passively waiting to be rescued (Yes, by saying that I was talking about Mario Bross). Meanwhile, I was dreaming to have a hero that represents me as a female.

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The second console came a bit late. It was on Playstation, circa 1996, where I first played Tekken. Most of the games bore me; fighting, racing, always led by the male prontagonist. Then a bit later, one of my friends introduced me to Tomb Raider and Resident Evil: Biohazard. You wouldn’t believe that Jill Valentine was once my role model because she’s great in combats. And for Croft, she was quite an adventurer which I found tres genial! Me as a chubby little girl only have this simple dream: to have a great body and cute face like them. Wait, really? For our mutual surprise, yes I admit I once wished for that. Little that I realize, these representations of a female body was harming my concept of beauty.


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What is body image? According to Wikipedia, body image refers to a person’s feelings of the aesthetics and sexual attractiveness of their own body that may be forced by others or social media. Like most media, the characters represented in video games are developed with ‘idealized’ body type with small nose, small mouth, small face, symmetrical face, and good skin. Both men and women are portrayed unrealistically ‘beautiful’, and therefore we have our own ideas of body image, that affected by exposure to game. Even a study in 2008 found that young men and women experienced lower body satisfaction after fifteen minutes of playing a game where the characters were muscular (in the case of boys) or thin and attractive (in the case of girls). That’s sad!

game love

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It’s impossible if you guys haven’t heard about Street Fighters, Dead or Alive, or any other games where women were over-sexualized. The majority of female characters in those kind of video games are portrayed in a highly sexualized way, being both thin and curvy, and depicted with revealing clothing. According to Beasley and Standley’s 2002 study, female characters were more likely to show skin than their male counterparts. It then confirmed that the design of game characters has not changed, as the continuation of the unrealistic body proportions. Though the games companies finally created much more games with heroines, it only created more ‘problem’ because they developed and designed them with male target audiences in mind.

So what do you think, will you play a game where the characters are less attractive but realistic? Or the ones with proportional body figures and flawed personality?

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P.S: I love playing The Last of Us, because it’s so realistic. The characters and everything. (Beside that I’m into survival game) 😀



Aku mengamati pundakmu, tampak belakangmu, perlahan menjauh. Lalu pundakmu melebur dan menyatu dengan pundak-pundak lainnya. Barulah aku menyadari kau telah meninggalkan tempat ini, meninggalkanku sejauh-jauhnya hingga pundakmu menjadi sebuah titik yang tertelan kerumunan. Kapan kau akan kembali?

Sore itu, di tempat yang sama kau duduk sambil menikmati kopimu. Dengan hati-hati kau masukkan cairan itu ke tubuhmu. Cangkirnya mencetak bibirmu. Dan bibirmu basah. Kau jilat perlahan. Indah sekali. Aku tahu kita bisa bicara tentang banyak hal namun kelihatannya pikiranmu sedang sibuk. Sesekali kau menulis sesuatu di sebuah buku catatan kecil, namun ponsel itu selalu punya banyak cara untuk mengganggumu. Sesekali kau harus menengok ke ponselmu, lalu ke jam tanganmu, lalu ke buku catatanmu. Apa kau sedang menunggu?

Aku sedang menunggu. Aku menunggu waktu yang tepat untuk berbicara denganmu. Tidak, aku tidak akan bertanya bagaimana kau melihat dunia, atau bagaimana pendapatmu tentang alam semesta. Aku tidak ingin memusingkanmu dengan pertanyaan yang tidak relevan. Aku akan bertanya tentang hal-hal kecil, seperti, apakah kau sudah mencuci rambutmu. Atau apakah kau suka mengendarai sepeda ke kantor. Apakah kau menikmati hari ini. Apakah cuaca terik seperti ini mengganggumu. Apakah kau ingin makan es krim. Pertanyaan-pertanyaan remeh yang kujamin tidak akan membuatmu berpikir. Karena aku tau dari lekuk tegas di dahimu, kau sedang pusing.

“Aku baru saja mencuci rambutku tadi pagi. Ya, terkadang aku mengendarai sepeda. Apa? Tentu saja. Ini hari yang indah bukan? Meskipun memang sedikit terik. Wah, benar juga, makan es krim sepertinya asyik.” sahutmu.

Lalu aku bertanya, apa pernah kau merasa sendirian?

Belum sempat kau menjawab, ponselmu berdering. Kau mengangkatnya.

“Ya, aku akan berada di sana 20 menit lagi. Apa? Ya, tentu saja aku tunggu.” Lalu kau meletakkannya lagi di samping cangkir kopi.

Aku bertanya, apa yang sedang kau tunggu.

“Aku menunggu rekan kerjaku. Ia akan berada disini 10 menit lagi.”

Aku bertanya, apa kau dari luar angkasa.

“Hahahahaha, mengapa kau tanyakan itu?” jawabmu sambil menatap ponsel.

Aku diam. Aku merasa konyol.

Dengan canggung aku hirup kopiku yang sudah mulai dingin. Kuperhatikan kau dari atas hingga ke bawah. Kemeja itu sedikit terbuka di bagian dada. Terkadang kau sampirkan kacamatamu ke atas kepala, rambutmu menggulung. Jam tangan yang kau kenakan sungguh pas di pergelangan tangan kirimu. Manis dan apik. Warnanya senada dengan kemejamu. Aku harus menahan napas karena aku tidak ingin kau tahu jika aku berdebar. Bisa kau rasakan?

Aku kembali bertanya, apa kau melihatku?

Kau hanya tersenyum simpul. Sopan sekali. Seolah baru melihatku pertama kali. Mengapa? Kita sudah ratusan kali bertemu di kedai kopi ini. Ku hafal bajumu, aksesorismu dan semua perbincangan kita. Ku hafal gayamu melihat arloji itu. Bahkan aku tau apa yang kau pesan; caffe latte rasa hazelnut dengan namamu yang tertulis di cangkir kertasnya. Bukan hanya itu, aku suka sekali melihat jemarimu menyisir santai rambut yang menghalangi pandanganmu.

Aku tahu kau suka anjing. Wallpaper ponselmu mengatakan demikian. Aku tahu kau suka musik, karena headset itu tak pernah lepas dari telingamu. Kadang kau begitu terlihat tak bergairah, lalu kau keluarkan novel yang tak habis-habis kau baca itu dari tasmu. 3 minggu sudah kau membaca buku yang sama. Lalu senyum itu, senyum yang tak habis-habis kunikmati. Senyum yang biasanya muncul ketika kau melihat notifikasi di ponselmu. Aku tak peduli pada apa yang kau lihat, aku hanya peduli pada senyum itu.

Lalu aku mulai panik.

Lelaki itu muncul dari belakangmu. Merangkul bahumu. Kau tersenyum dan menengok ke arahnya. Kau berdiri dan memeluknya. Lelaki itu mencium bibirmu. Di depanku.

Amarah menghampiriku dengan meluap-luap. Dahiku panas, darahku mendidih. Dengan gemetar aku antar kaki ini ke meja kalian. Kulayangkan kepalanku ke tulang pipi lelaki ini. Lalu kau berteriak.

“Apa-apaan ini?! Siapa kau?”

Tanganku berdenyut-denyut.

“Hey, apa maksudmu?! Kau kenal dia?” lelaki ini bertanya padaku, lalu padamu.

“Aku bahkan tidak mengenalnya.”

Petugas dan satpam menghampiri. “Ada masalah apa pak?”

“Lelaki aneh ini tiba-tiba menghampiri dan menyerang saya. Saya bahkan tidak mengenalnya. Istri saya juga tidak mengenalnya.”

Kau… tidak mengenalku? Setelah 3 minggu belakangan kita duduk bersisian, kau bilang kau tidak mengenalku?

“Orang gila! Demi Tuhan sayang, aku tidak mengenalnya.”

“Saya juga melihat, istri saudara datang sendirian.” Satpam itu menanggapi.

“Maaf pak, sepertinya lebih baik anda pergi. Kami tidak ingin kejadian ini menganggu kenyamanan tamu-tamu lain.”

Tapi. Aku mengenalnya. Dia mungkin tidak kenal aku, namun aku mengenalnya. Aku mengenalnya. Lalu? Obrolan kami? Tidak mungkin. Tidak mungkin aku mengada-ada. Semuanya begitu nyata.

“Cih!” lelaki itu meludahi wajahku. Kau diam saja. Kau tampak ketakutan. Kau berlindung di balik pundaknya.

“Sebaiknya kami yang pergi.” Kau bilang.

Lalu aku mengamati pundakmu, tampak belakangmu, perlahan menjauh. Lalu pundakmu melebur dan menyatu dengan pundak-pundak lainnya. Barulah aku menyadari kau telah meninggalkan tempat ini, meninggalkanku sejauh-jauhnya hingga pundakmu menjadi sebuah titik yang tertelan kerumunan. Kapan kau akan kembali?

Kekuasaan, Sihir, Dan Kidung Kematian: Resensi Buku “Lullaby” (Chuck Palahniuk)


Pertama kali saya membaca sinopsis buku ini, saya sudah jatuh cinta pada pandangan pertama. Ketika selesai membacanya, hati saya sepenuhnya takluk pada karya Chuck Palahniuk yang pertama kali terbit pada tahun 2002 silam ini. Lullaby, menurut saya bukan hanya novel horror yang menceritakan kematian, black magic, maupun kisah tragis kehidupan manusia yang terlibat di dalamnya. Lebih dari itu, Palahniuk dengan gaya khasnya berhasil membungkus cerita ini dengan sentuhan satir, juga kritik terhadap kehidupan; sebuah refleksi yang bisa jadi renungan kita semua. Buku ini memiliki beberapa tema penting, salah satunya adalah bagaimana kekuasaan bisa melahirkan sebuah terror.


Bercerita tentang Carl Streator, seorang lelaki paruh baya yang bekerja sebagai seorang jurnalis di harian lokal, tanpa sengaja ‘tercebur’ dalam sebuah investigasi kematian-kematian bayi yang janggal. Kejadian naas yang menimpa para bayi ini mereka juluki ‘sudden infant death’, atau ‘death crib’. Menemukan pattern yang sama dalam setiap kejadiannya, ia akhirnya menyadari bahwa penyebabnya adalah ‘culling song’, atau African chant dari buku berjudul Poems and Rhymes Around the World. Streator pun menemukan bahwa puisi yang sama telah menyebabkan ia kehilangan anak dan istrinya beberapa tahun yang lalu.

Memiliki kekuatan ini lantas membuat Streator menjadi pembunuh berantai dengan membunuh orang-orang di sekitarnya. Ia pun mencari cara untuk mencegah penyalahgunaan lagu pembawa maut ini. Dalam perjalanannya, ia bertemu dengan Helen Hoover Boyle seorang agen real-estate, yang juga mengetahui (dan menggunakan) kekuatan dari puisi kuno ini. Bersama dengan asisten Helen bernama Mona dan pacarnya Oyster -yang merupakan anggota coven, perkumpulan penyihir- keempatnya terlibat dalam perjalanan mencari the last remaining copies of the book, dan menghancurkan halaman dimana terdapat kidung kematian tersebut.
Namun perjalanan ini ternyata bukan hanya tentang lagu pengantar tidur yang membawa maut. Helen ingin menemukan ‘Grimoire’, yaitu sebuah spellbook yang dicurigai merupakan asal mula dari kidung kematian ini, dengan harapan dapat mengetahui sihir-sihir lain yang terdapat di dalamnya. Streator ingin menghancurkan buku tersebut, namun ketiga rekannya ternyata memiliki tujuan berbeda-beda.

Gaya storytelling Palahniuk terlihat dari tokoh utama berlaku sebagai narator sekaligus tokoh, juga karena sudut pandang berasal dari sang tokoh utama. Dialog tokoh utama selalu dihantarkan dalam kalimat tidak langsung, membuat tokoh utama dan narrator membaur dan cenderung bias. Tokoh utama sendiri digambarkan sebagai seseorang yang sangat peka terhadap detil. Hal ini dipertegas dalam ketelitian penggambaran suasana, tempat bahkan furniture, membuat kita merasuk ke dalam tokoh dan berbagi pengalaman yang sama dengan sang tokoh utama.

Framing yang digunakan oleh Palahniuk membawa kita pada inti cerita pada awal bagian buku (dan beberapa epilog yang diselipkan di beberapa chapter) lalu memecah ceritannya dalam bagian-bagian kecil, dengan waktu yang non-linear. Tanpa mendramatisir, ia membawa pembaca kepada konklusi dengan sangat halus dan tidak terduga.


Lullaby adalah sebuah karya yang lengkap dan berkarakter. Tanpa meninggalkan kualitas fiksinya, Palahniuk memeriahkan elemen-elemen pentingnya dengan menyusupkan sentilan-sentilan khas terhadap masyarakat, yang bisa dibagi dalam beberapa sudut pandang namun tetap dalam tema yang sama, yaitu kekuasaan. Misalnya ketika Streator merasa terganggu dengan para tetangganya yang bising dan ‘kecanduan’ terhadap kebisingan itu sendiri. Juga bagaimana Big Brother menaruh candu dalam hal-hal trivial untuk mengalihkan mereka dalam ‘berpikir’.

“Big brother isn’t watching. He’s singing and dancing. He’s pulling rabbits out of a hat. Big brother’s busy holding your attention every moment you’re awake. He’s making sure you’re always addicted. He’s making sure you’re fully absorbed.
He’s making sure your imagination withers. Until it’s as useful as your appendix. He’s making sure your attention is always filed. And this is being fed, it’s worse than being watched. With the world always filling you, no one has to worry about what’s in your mind. With everyone’s imagination atrophied, no one will ever be a threat to the world.”

Hal ini merupakan kritik terhadap kita, yang hidup dalam era dimana informasi terserap tanpa ada filter. Semua masuk dan dicerna secara tekstual, tidak peduli baik buruknya, benar tidaknya, penting tidaknya. Penguasa, atau yang dominan, bisa mengendalikan manusia, membentuk pola pikir manusia baik dalam selera maupun kebutuhan, sehingga batas antara yang diinginkan dan dibutuhkan semakin kabur.

“There are worse things you can do to people you love than kill them. The regular way is just to watch the world do it.
The music and laughter eat away at your thoughts. The noise blots them out. All the sound distracts. Your head aches from the glue.

Anymore, no one’s mind is their own. You can’t concentrate. You can’t think. There’s always some noise worming in. Singers shouting. Dead people laughing. Actors crying. All these little doses emotion. Someone’s always spraying the air with their mood”

Hal-hal seperti ini, setelah satu dekade lamanya masih relevan dengan kehidupan kita sekarang. Seperti kita lihat dalam program-program di televisi swasta, acara-acara yang mengetengahkan lagu-lagu dan tarian komunal sebagai ‘konsumsi rakyat’.

Tema kekuasaan juga dirasakan dalam alegori lagu pengantar tidur. Dalam suatu bab, Helen berkata bahwa:

“This isn’t about love and hate, it’s about control. People don’t sit down and read a poem to kill their child. They just want the child to sleep. They just want to dominate. No matter how much you love someone, you still want to have your own way.”

In many ways, pernyataan ini ada benarnya. Secara tekstual, contohnya lagu pengantar tidur ‘Nina Bobo’, juga merupakan dominasi orang tua terhadap anaknya. Ada ancaman yang berbunyi ‘kalau tidak bobo digigit nyamuk.’ Terlepas dari konteks budaya, yang harus digarisbawahi adalah, bagaimanapun kita mencintai seseorang, kita akan tetap berusaha berkuasa di atasnya. Alegori ini sangat menggambarkan jelas, bahwa dominasi tersisip dalam segala aspek kehidupan.


Kekuasaan bisa merusak dalam dua cara, yang pertama jika disalahgunakan, kedua jika tidak terorganisir secara sistematik. Palahniuk memberikan contoh saat restorasi kanal Welland pada tahun 1921, untuk membuka jalur transportasi di Niagara Falls.

“The sea lamprey has infested all the Great Lakes. These parasites suck the blood of the larger fish, the trout and salmon, killing them. Then the smaller fish are left with no predators and their population explodes. Then they run out of plankton to eat, and starve by the millions.”

Hal ini menggambarkan bahwa overpopulation, akibat dari kekuasaan yang tidak terorganisir dengan baik, dapat menyerang balik dan menjadi bencana bagi populasi itu sendiri. Disesuaikan dalam konteks sosial, kesalahan sistematis dalam kekuasaan bisa merusak tatanan yang telah dibangunnya. Dalam artian lain, bahwa kekuasaan membutuhkan stabilitas dan kendali atas dirinya sendiri, selain kendali atas orang/hal lain. Ini adalah paradoks tersendiri dalam persoalan kekuasaan, that if it’s corrupted, it will lead to self-destruction.

Dalam buku ini, juga terdapat beberapa tema pendukung, salah satunya eksistensialisme. Tema ini terwujud dalam refleksi Streator terhadap kehidupannya yang tersirat dalam beberapa soliloquy. Terkadang Streator memberi jarak antara dirinya dengan realita yang dihadapinya, dengan menempatkan dirinya sebagai non-partisipan.

”The best way to waste your life is by taking notes. The easiest way to avoid living is just to watch. Look for the details. Report. Don’t participate. Let Big Brother do the singing and dancing for you. Be a reporter. Be a good witness. A grateful member of the audience.”

Lebih dalam lagi, pergulatan batinnya terbagi antara penyerahan diri untuk kembali ke ‘humanity’, dan justifikasi atas perbuatannya. Apakah dengan menjadikan dunia sebagai musuh kita, kita mendapatkan pembenaran dari tindakan kita? Jika begitu adanya, apakah kesalahan dan kebenaran hanyalah persoalan sudut pandang?

Dari perbendaharaan kata yang kaya, cerita yang kuat, dan penokohan yang unik, Chuck Palahniuk berhasil menyatukan segala elemen-elemen ini menjadi sebuah karya kontemporer yang bisa membuat para pembacanya tersihir, halaman demi halaman.

Mengutip dari pemikiran Streator,

“Maybe you don’t go to hell for the things you do. Maybe you go to hell for the things you don’t do. The things you don’t finish.”

So, my suggestion would be: read and finish the goddamn book.

The Woman On The Antique Store

I was with my non-vagabond non-adventurous family, consisted of young parents and me as the only child, when we were visiting an antique store somewhere uncertain. My dad is a very tall young man, with blonde and wavy hair -though he’d look better with glasses- while mom is an average lady on her age. Not skinny, not tall, she dyed her boring haircut with caramel color.

I wasn’t sure why we decided to go to this antique. I didn’t even know on which part of the world were we on that very day. The strong scent of incense sticks strung over my nose as we walked in. The place wasn’t too shabby, but smelled a bit like old books. There were three long and verticals mahogany tables putted on the center of the room, we could see them as we enter the front door. There were some beautiful cobalt and copper with colored enamels on the table. Some other tables on each side of the room were filled with some porcelain wares I haven’t yet to figure. On the first row of this mahogany table were the dragon jar, goldfish vase, and some bone china. The second row was for tea bowl, tea caddy, and black pottery. On the third one there were ceramic stone statuette and funerary vase. The last row gave me a creep.

There was this lady, the patron, with bizarre smile, embraced us warmly and took my parents around to show her best collections. I was dead uninterested with any of those so I decided to tail them from behind, while pretended not seeing this creepy woman kept checking me out. She had this very big head with long and messy black hair. That red lipstick on her lips wasn’t flattering her eerie feature at all. In fact, it was like defining her obscurity. You could get goosebumps just by seeing her funky long nails, her pale skin, and her ridiculous eyebrows. Not to mention her dark and scratchy voice.

To me, she looked more like a ghost rather than human.

She brought my parents to the other room, separated only by a curtain. I stopped following them and decided to look around a bit, which I still regret until now. Only if I had known that was the last time I could see them.

That odd woman came back to me again to the room where I was standing, but without my parents. I was about to panic because it seemed that something was off, then she startled me by saying: “You’re the chosen! We’ve been waiting. Tonight is yours, my lady.”

I said what the hell. Where’s my mom and dad? 

“You’re belong to the night, to the moon, to the darkness. You’re the child of hatred. You’re the daughter of revenge.”

She was not listening. I said you’re fuckin crazy. I insisted to go the other room and find my parents. She held my arms, strongly. Her eyes were getting bigger and bigger.

“Look, the moon is ready for you.”

She held me close to her and turn my body over to the window on our left so I could see through it. It was a dark polluted sky, with no stars at all, but suddenly a big helluva moon came closer and got bigger, bigger, bigger. I saw my reflection on the window, my eyes began to turn white. I felt my joints began to loose, my skin started to itch, my bloods heated, I thought I was about to dissolve but suddenly my jaw was getting heavier, and from my pale skin, came out disgusting fur. It was on my back, my chest, and my arms. My jeans all wrecked, my blouse torn off, I was totally naked.

Then I saw my reflection again. I already turned into a morbid yet ugly and less specific being with the bone and flesh of a human. some covered with fur but face like a wolf. My breasts were still there, my vagina was still there. I still stand on my two feet. I’m a monster.

One thing that I remembered: I could smell my own blood, even that woman’s blood. I was salivating.

“Now we have to feed you, my lady.”

I tried to scream but the only thing that came out from my mouth was groan.

“First, we have to feed your anger.”

She made me drink something, from one of her bone china. It was turquoise and juicy, stinky like rotten worms. Then I collapsed.

First thing I heard when I woke up is my dad groaning. It wasn’t like mine, it was more like moaning. I believe I was transferred to a different room, in which I was sure it wasn’t the same place where I fainted before. It was a motel room and I was in the bathroom. The bathroom was damp and stinky. I didn’t dare to look at the mirror, so I tried to find the keyhole and looked outside. It was really my dad. He was naked and fucking. The girl was moaning too. It appeared that she was actually screaming and crying, in joy and pain, I failed to figure. Hearing them fucking made my nipples got erection, my feminine juice dripped into my thighs. Then I realized it was not my mom, she was a lot younger than mom.

No way, it was me. I was raped. I started to groan and kicked the door with my right foot. My dad scream, the little girl cried. I jumped to my dad and bite his face. I ate him alive while he was trying to resist. Starting from his lips, his nose, his cheeks, his eyelids. Blood was dripping to his neck, yet he was still screaming in pain. I bite his neck until his skin was tattered, then I drank the blood dry. I ripped his chest, with my bare hand, then ate his heart.

“Baby,  it’s me.”

I looked at him on the eyes, while groaning like a monster. I don’t know what happened but the girl has disappeared, the room was changing, we weren’t on that motel anymore. We were on a dark empty room. My dad was wearing the same clothes when we were on that antique store. My dad died with his eyes opened. In my arms.

I groaned so hard that the ground started to shiver. I tried to speak to the woman, because I still felt her presence there, she watched the whole show. But all that came out from my mouth was an ancient language. Or animal language.

You made me kill my own dad. What is wrong with you? What do you want?

“In order to gain more power, you cannot feel love. So we have to kill any possible sources”

I said fuck you, what did you do to me. i should kill you. Show me your face.

“Your hate to me is the only bond that we have. Beside, the more you hate anything, the more power you will gain.”

Let me kill you, you bastard.

“You should be glad, killing feels so good, ain’t it. Don’t ever resist.”

I groaned and cried while standing on my knees. I covered my face with my furry yet bloody hands. The sky was getting darker. The moon began to shrink.

“Now let’s find your mom.”



to be continued


What Shall Remain Untitled

I’ve been bailing from my own ground, wandering into emptiness where everything seems so slow and meaningless. I’ve been raging on my own decisions to go from where to nowhere, but I can’t stay mad forever, I have to go on. The world is riding its roller-coaster to unknown and I’m one of the passengers. Just the thought of it beset me already.

Must I say this tangling of fortunes and misfortunes, pains and delights, joy and sadness, intricate one and another, like a beautiful symphony. Pain rhymes with Plain. Naked rhymes with jaded. Sadness rhymes with madness. Everything is uncannily less-extraordinary, but attached so good it drifts me away.

I’ve been wavering too much, went back and forth, over thoughts. I myself standing in a panoptic prison where I’m surrounded by my own dreams and desires, all caged perfectly in every cell where I could see them. They’re howling.
Even if I want to release them, do I have a good reason to do so? Do I agonize over a question which is not meant to be answered?

Oh the greatest failure of all is to wait.

And here I am waiting.


Even to be insane, people have to have a good reason. So they will get empathy or tolerance. I don’t have any reason to be insane or having a mere mental breakdown. All the reasons in the world has been used, there’s no genuine one left.

But I know I’m not okay.

We’re living in a world where sane is the new insane, that people veil their insanity so good because insanity is just one cloth and one paper away; when you go out naked or a doctor tells you that you suffered from mental illnesses.

I’m so overwhelmed with this plague, which doesn’t have any cause. How do I manage to find the cure if I couldn’t trace its beginning? I could feel a sickness rolled in me with gigantic waves, calmly squeezes me from the inside into shredded pieces.

I’m slowly sinking into the thoughts where it begins to splotch everywhere. My skin starts to shrivel. I’m running out of time.

Lucid Dreaming


So I just realize this for the past two months, that I actually have the ability to lucid dreaming. I know it’s hard to imagine. But anyway, it did happen.
Remember that typical dream that only lasts for a moment? No color? Sometimes it’s monochrome, or in pale tone? There’s less dialogue and everything is just out of rationality?
Lucid dreaming is totally different (except for the last part). I’m totally aware that it’s merely a dream AND I have all of my sensory organs work. I can see things clearly. I even can smell, hear, talk, taste, touch. The most fun part of it: I have full control of what’s happening. My consciousness awake, and I can simply tell my brain what to do next, like walking my foot to certain objects, moving things, running, breathing, talking, eating, or anything!

It’s a shame I can’t tell you how I get such ability, because to be honest, I don’t know how it started. I hardly remember my previous dreams but last night, I entered this bizarre realm once again. That’s why I decided to write it down so I wouldn’t forget.

It was cold at night when I was with my friends; a female and an asexual (It’s a dream, don’t judge). He/she doesn’t have any significant remark on sexuality. Anyway, we were running down the hall, trying to get into the elevator because we’ve been chased by some guys (who apparently have molested me and my female friend). When we finally got to the elevator with panics and stuffs, my female friend was on her plan to escape them. My asexual friend, well he/she was just stood there, terrified as hell, biting nails and trembling.

I told my female friend, well let’s call her Jessie: “no Jess! I don’t want to play fuckin hide and seek. I don’t want to do this. We can win over them, this is stupid”.
(for a note, the setting was a dystopian future, like in a very high cultured civilization with flying cars and shit.)

“We gotta get away from them! They’re gonna rape us!” (Isn’t it shocking that in a very high cultured society, rape is still a thing? Old ‘habits’ die hard, eh?)

I trembled for a while, looking outside and seeing those flying cars, sophisticated architectures from this transparent glass of the building. This isn’t my world, this is something else.

I shook her shoulder, convincing her “Believe me we can defeat them. We can kill them because WE’RE IN A FUCKIN DREAM. Look around will ya!”

As I stopped shouting at her face, the elevator stopped moving. Jessie and my other friend gave me a really eerie facial expression, a very dead-pan one.

“So you don’t wanna go with us?” I didn’t answer her last question.


The elevator door opened and dings. They went out, while still looking at me. I was trying to stop them but suddenly the floor I was standing has opened up like a mouth of a giant fish, swallowed me into the darkness. I could feel my body floating in the air for a bit second.



I knew I fell down. My head was in pain but surprisingly my back was fine. I was landed on these fluffy things; stuffed animals. I realized I was still dreaming but this time it got a lot of beautiful colors.


I grabbed one of those stuffed animals to feel its texture. Fuzzy. I looked around, smelling, feeling the lights in my skin, even trying to walk. There was only one door there, which I believe it’s the only way out and in. I was then convinced that I was lucid-dreaming.
After pulling all the guts, I tried to open the door. Something familiar stroked me. When the door was opened, the lights from the outside hurt my eyes. I couldn’t see clearly but I can feel something familiar about the disposition. It was my own house (not look like one in the reality, but I knew it was mine). I was still in that dystopian future.

I stepped outside from this room; which apparently was the storeroom, looking for somebody who would recognize me. I went to the family room, but there’s no one in there. The living room was larger, there’s an old static TV there (in that kind of era, believe me). I went to the kitchen looking for my grandma or grandpa, but it was empty too.
Then I walked in the hall once again, just to found things that are really terrifying.

I met some of the maids who used to work for us, but they’re not a fucking human. They were jelly fishes and octopus, literally dressing as maid! How could I know it was them? Well, I just happened to know, somehow. I was about to scream but they gave me this very mannered smile while passing at me.

Then I ran to my parent’s working room, which I had a hunch I’d find someone there. I found two statues, resembled the old Greek statues. They were huge and their heads almost touched the ceiling. For all the love in the world, they were my parents! Somehow they managed to turn into statues, I don’t know why and how.


The female statues turned her head to me while still stood in her position.

“My God, sweetie, where have you been? We missed you.” She said nonchalantly.

My dad looked at me, smiled and kissed my cheek. I kissed his cold damn cheek too, awkwardly.

“What happened to you and dad?” I almost cried but I read somewhere that if you don’t wanna wake up while lucid-dreaming, you shouldn’t feel too much emotion. You should relax. So I reminded myself not to do that.

My mom, on the other hand, smiled to me like it was nothing. My dad gave me a nice stroke and pat on my back.

“Was it my fault? Di I cause you this?” I asked him.

My mom answered while smiling, “Nooo, of course it wasn’t your fault, sweetie.” There was silence but I could feel that I missed them too.

My mother excused herself and dad for a while because they got ‘something to do’. I mean really? As a statue? I was so puzzled, I wanted to bang my head to the wall. But then I realized they’re not my parents, it was just a dream.



I brought myself into a different room. It was apparently a library; a square room surrounded by bookshelves made out of glasses. I could see my reflection in one of the glasses. I was pretty sure I read somewhere that you can do almost ‘anything’ in your lucid dream. Like, anything. I was about to read one of the books, but this wicked mind told me to lock the room and do something else. So I decided to ‘summon’ someone that I really miss these recent days.
Yeah, some sources told me you can have sex in your lucid dream. But I still don’t understand why I picked this guy instead of anyone else. (Because you’re dumb, d’uh)

I tried to concentrate my mind, while closing my eyes, trying to make him appear to me (it’s been a while since I don’t have sex so I was pretty desperate, lol). I opened my eyes and there was no sign of him. I was almost desperate when suddenly the mirror in front of me reflected him! He was behind me, hugging me. But there’s no one on my back. So I learned that he was living in the mirror, or was I being delusional. But could you be delusional in your own fuckin dream?

Anyway, what the hell did that mean? He represented the reality that he lives on the other side of my mind like a fuckin ghost? Bullshit. We both know that it was just a dream, fucking each other a bit wouldn’t hurt.

“I missed you” I said in in tremble, while in the mirror, he kept kissing my neck.

“Why don’t you come here? I wanna touch you.” But he just smiled, without talking.

I was that frustrated. I touched myself as he touched my reflection. It was bizarre but it felt nice. I finally see this guy touch me once again, even just in my dream. It felt sooo real that I wet my pants a bit. He rubbed my genital smoothly, as he grabbed my boobs from behind. Then he pinned me down… wait, I’m not giving you the details, or this is gonna end as a cheap sex story.

So it ended with the saddest truth: I was touching myself. It was as shitty as my lonely nights with the porns that I’ve watched zillion times as I touched myself with my cold fingers.

Anyway, it was a weird yet peculiar experience, after all. Verdict: I finally able to take fully control of myself in my lucid dream. Bad news: first attempt to have sex in lucid dream failed.


Surviving the Finite World

In Sex Evolution

We all know the world is finite. The non-renewable resources such as food, energy and fresh water have bear witness that our world naturally constructs a finite sphere. The world was constructed by the accumulation of biological process, involving environment changes and selection, as we may call it evolution. At practical level, individual tend to subsist their life in order to adapt due to mass utilization of finite resources and environment changes. We have to adapt, and try to survive.Is it true? Should we be afraid of this limitation?

According to Darwin and Wallace, finiteness of resources however triggered the competition and natural selection make thepopulation stays on a constant yet considerable number. We live in the world where we try to adapt and to survive; from the finiteness of resources. Rooting from the game theory, which mainly focuses on cooperation (and conflict) between two individuals, it is clear that we make strategies to survive. One of them is sex and recombination.

Back on the middle and late 20th century, the research on reproduction strategy has shown that sex and genetic recombination double the chance of successive adaptation for the offspring, compare to the mutation of those whom produced asexually. That’s because sex and recombination generate new variation of alleles.Cynically saying, successful adaptation costs a lot; one has to do sex and recombination.

In an infinite population with mutation, all possible combinations of alleles (variants of a particular gene) are always available. It is why they could produce the offspring at any given time, without sex. But, somehow we have to accept this is not enough to prove that they could adapt well in environment changes. This is caused by the genetic drift. Paradoxically speaking, genetic drift; changes of alleles presence as a result of genetic composition and random events rather than by natural selection – of infinite population is inadequate. Meanwhile in a finite population, the drift is moderately adequate and adaptive.

Models that consider modifiers in finite populations have shown that drift tends to contribute to the evolution of sex and recombination.And this drift theory in sex and recombination showed that all populations are finite.

Deduction Game!

I'm not trying to be Sherlock. The only thing I'm willing to try is to be Mrs. Cumberbatch.

I’m not trying to be Sherlock. The only thing I’m willing to try is to be Mrs. Cumberbatch.

It’s Deducting Time!

This is probably my favorite game among others. Honestly, I don’t have a name for it. Not that I didn’t think about some possibilities, I just haven’t found the right one to depict the whole notion of it. Some of you may call it ‘observation game’. In general, it could be seen like that. But I wouldn’t say so because this game is ‘technically’ played in the less observant way. No obvious heed, no signal of repetitive attention. It’s about entertaining oneself by looking other people’s behavior all around, in the most subtle way. And later, you have to make brief (and fun)deduction of it.

There is only one rule: there is no rule at all. Why? Because you have your own way and pattern to finish the game. No winning, no losing. No right and no wrong.
And how about the tools or instrument needed? It needs three sensory organs of yours, optimized into desirable sensitivity and strength. You basically need your eyes, your nose, and your ears to work together cleverly and subtlety in harmony. It’s rather tricky, especially when working with your visual sensory. You don’t want to be caught as a very impolite stranger who keeps staring like an idiot, a flirtatious passive aggressive loner, or a person who believes he or she has a telekinetic power.
It doesn’t require a skillful technique. Every sensation and stimuli has its meaning. You could translate whether it’s a date or an affair just by smelling someone’s perfume, or the way they dress. You have to be quick-minded and pretty imaginative. Just a tiny bit or imagination and voila, you’re up for it. You can play this game au pair, or solo. Whatever you may, it’s fun for both sides.

Give Me the Instructions!

Okay, I’ll show you how to play it by giving you a case.

It just happened recently. I was in a coffee shop. In the corner of my eyes I saw a man and a woman. The woman leaned forward, resting her chest on the side of the table while talking. She made a lot of gestures with her hands and head. Sometime she tilted her head, and the next time she nodded, like agreeing her own statement. One time she looked to her right while making gestures (and talking), pointing her finger to the emptiness. She could be angry, but it is clear that it was just a mimic. I assume she was a bit infuriated.

In a glimpse, you can see a fighting couple (that’s why they caught me eyes from the first place). Because the way she talked was a bit too expressive, like too much emotions spilled there. On the other side, the guy seemed relax and totally laid-back. His arms are folded to his chest but I could see a tinge of smile from his right cheek (that’s because I could only see his behind on my point of view). Seeing his gestures, we could conclude that he seemed concern with the topic, but disinterested. At least we know that he is not the object of that woman’s rage.

So how I see that he was probably bored? He seemed like his back was attached to the chair, and folded his arms. Folded arms are a sign of disagreement, defense, or boredom. He did this as the woman kept leaning herself to the table, like pushed him further to the topic she was pursuing.
Some other minutes went by. They suddenly stopped talking, and kept themselves busy with their phones. It lasted more than 15 minutes for all I care. It’s apparent now what kind of deductions we might have here.

First, it’s obvious that they’re not in relationship. People who are in love wouldn’t sit across from each other, unless they were sitting in the table of two. But they were sitting in a table of four which doesn’t make any sense not to sit next to each other, IF they’re in relationship.
And it’s clearly NOT a date. No sign of shyness, they kept looking on their phones, no consensus, no glittering eyes, no sign of comprehending process, no forced giggle (believe me, I’ve been through a lot of dates to prove this).

The way he reacted to her story is probably a sign of disinterest or he just didn’t really understand what’s going on. He could be too ignorant to grasp, OR he just doesn’t work in that place where the situation (which she was in) happened, because he only listened to compromise. And also the portion of her talking compared to his wasn’t close to fairness.
Why I concluded that ‘tragedy’ is situated in her office? She was wearing a formal outfit (worker’s typical), I’m pretty sure it just happened that noon regarding the way she expressed her deception; she was still hot-headed. And hey, the guy didn’t wear any formal outfit so I was right; he is not her coworker.

Well, I wouldn’t go much further because this is just an example.

What’s the Use of this deduction game?

Nothing. No practical use at all. But you will make a good story in your head just by seeing their actions. You may write those deductions on a piece of paper then, put your imagination to craft a good story. Isn’t it exciting? (If you say no, I wouldn’t be offended, it’s okay)
Basically you can play this almost everywhere. Varieties of places will get you to see odd enough characters and story. Like a fail date, a newly lesbian couple, an affair, a marriage on its brink, and so on.
So? Ready to play along?

P.S. If you want to tag me to play this game with you, just let me know. I’ll be most delighted to play on a team!