my random babbles

The Traveller

2012-02-11T00:25:00.000+07:00

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

As we are the largest muslim population in the world, umroh and hajj have become customary. I don't think it's extraordinary nowadays that someone is going on umroh or hajj. Of course I would still be slightly envious whenever I learn that an acquintance is going. Yet I was moved, almost to tears, when a good friend told me that she was going on umroh next sunday. I was also feeling more envious.

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"It was unexpected!" She told me. She originally planned to go backpacking to India alone—I rolled my eyes when I heard that— when she was offered, by the graciousness of the company she works for, a trip to Baitullah instead.

Why did this news affect me more than it usually does?

In a way, I think, this reminded me of the things we'd once talked about, of walking down "the road less travelled," of syiar and dakwah on the radio. I might have left my idealism behind for what one considers a more promising future.

One thinks that with that promising future one can then carry out the obligation of hajj or umroh. But shouldn't one have learned the lesson by now? It is not about carrying out obligation, it's about one answering the call and invitation. One would never think that if one stayed with the job, with such level of income, one could go so soon. But The good friend, who had chosen to walk down the road less travelled, apparently has proved otherwise. She has been called.

So I wonder if my call and invitation would ever come...

Gute Reise, May! ..... jangan lupa.... titip "jodoh", ya!

Of Rats and the Blame Game

2012-02-02T01:40:00.000+07:00

Late at night.... and I had just encountered one of our resident rodents. It apparently tried to get a sneak peek at my room through the open door. In the process, it pushed the creaking old door and thus alerted me. No one moved while our eyes met. Then, the small thing turned away and left.

No drama, as I am not bothered either. I consider these chance meetings somewhat normal in a household, though a recent visit to a family member's, whose hygiene standard is remarkably higher than mine, got me thinking. My definition of normal might have gone off the mark.

However, I do think rats have been unjustly blamed for more than they deserve, given undue credits for man's follies.

In his book, The Black Death in London, historian Barney Sloane suggested that [black death] plague "spread so quickly that the rats could not be to blame."

'All the evidence I've looked at suggests it had to be person to person due to the speed by which it spread,' he said. — The Daily Mail

This is just another case of rats assuming blames. Well, we often attribute man's misconducts or less savoury acts to rats, or animals in general —to this day, I haven't found a satisfying explanation on how the term 'buaya darat' (terrestrial crocodile) for scoundrel came about— but rats seem to bear the brunt of these verbal —and physical, if you would just count rats, or what's left of them, on the streets, run over, squashed, and dead— abuse.

Why man can't stop blaming other creatures and be brave to bear the consequences of his own actions, I wonder. Because I cringe whenever political commentators and critics on tv call politicians who are corrupt rats. Rats don't corrupt. Men do.

The Rats of Senayan, you say? Don't call them rats! Call them trash!.

So, justice for rats, ay?

The next Severus Snape…

2011-11-09T08:35:00.001+07:00

My thought on this is vindicated by the-cool-kid’s remarks when he saw a glimpse of BBC’s Sherlock on TV.

“Is that the young Professor Snape?”

I’ve been mulling such thought for sometimes now. The billowing cape… the dabbles and experiments in chemistry….

Hands raise for Mr Benedict Cumberbatch for the next Severus Snape, anyone?

"It's just a game..."

2010-03-01T09:38:00.003+07:00

I found this game ad link in facebook...

And you wonder why we are constantly warring against each other...

Confronting an Old Pet Peeve: "The Note that Won't Play..."

2009-10-31T23:38:00.008+07:00

I am more inclined to keep music player separate from other functions. I’ve been weighing the pros and cons of getting either a Creative Zen X-Fi or an iRiver Clix (anything but ipod!). But things turned out differently, and for one thing and another, I got landed with a brand new Nokia 5730 XpressMusic.

Nokia 5730 XpressMusic

Not that I mind. It wasn’t a bad bargain. It came with a music voucher to free-download 100 songs, which was useless as I found no tracks appealed to me. Its quasi-business functions (email, nokia messaging, quickoffice, pdf-reader, plus additional applications running on S60v3.2) and the sliding QWERTY-keyboard are satisfying. And, I have a music player in Nokia 5730 XM with acceptable sound quality yet, as I’d expected………. sadly disappointing earphones.

In general, earphones and I don’t go well together. I have a box almost full of broken and wasted earphones. Once, I cared enough to get high quality ones. They lasted longer but still ended up in the pile. They did improve the sound quality, but were unable to endure my demands of mobility, the down-pouring rain, humidity, and my curiosity (as I tend to unscrew anything screwed), and the most importunate, the constant friction with the ears hurt. I wondered once just how the industry came up with such earphone designs because they just felt alien to me. Whose ears are these earphones based on? Is it simply because my ears are misshaped and anomalies? I sure do hope not.

Now, trying not to waste the 5730’s potential, I decided to get decent and durable earphones, a Sennheiser OMX80 Sport Series II Stereo Clip-On Earphones.

Sennheiser OMX 80 Sport II

So, the 5730 and OMX 80 Sport II together went trough my standard test: whether they deliver satisfactory sound reproduction of Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli playing Ravel's Piano Concerto in G. The following bit of interview might explain better why I pick Michelangeli’s Ravel piano concerto to test music players and earphones.

[…]

Keith Jarrett (KJ): Classical players never pound, but they also never actually get soft, soft, soft, soft, to the point of risking that the note won’t play. Benedetti Michelangeli is an exception.

Ethan Iverson (IE): He’s so marvellous.

KJ: Yeah. He could do that in the middle of a Ravel concerto. “He almost didn’t get that one!”

EI: I read somewhere that Miles Davis and Bill Evans were listening to Benedetti Michelangeli’s Ravel concerto in advance of “Kind of Blue”.

KJ: That makes sense.

EI: That record coupled with Rachmaninoff fourth concerto.

KJ: Yeah, that’s the one I’m talking about.

[…]

From An Interview with Keith Jarrett

And I am now content.

Apa Kabar Bahasa Indonesia?

2009-10-09T21:53:00.003+07:00

Pertanyaan 1: Di manakah lokasi papan iklan berikut ini?

Tidak ada hadiah. Kecuali jika saya berubah pikiran, atau isi kantong bertambah.

Mari kita jujur! Bahasa Indonesia, siapa (berani) hirau?

Ayo... Siapa?

Papan iklan tersebut sudah beberapa kali berusaha saya abadikan. Takut masa beriklannya habis, papan ini turun tanpa ada yang perhatian. Namun tidak ada kamera yang siap sedia di tangan, malas berhenti merogoh isi tas yang penuh sesak untuk menggapai ponsel berkamera. Karenanya kesempatan berlalu begitu saja. Hingga akhirnya, saya benar-benar niatkan untuk memotretnya saat lari pagi.

Serbuan bahasa Inggris, terutama, yang masuk melalui bidang teknologi, ekonomi, dan politik, tampaknya membuat bahasa Indonesia makin terpinggir. Lihat saja TV yang menjadi pengisi waktu luang banyak orang. Nama acara TV menggunakan bahasa Inggris, liga olahraga negeri sendiri juga harus menggunakan bahasa Inggris, bahkan nama makanan lokal pada menu-menu restoran kini mulai menggunakan bahasa Inggris. Belum lagi di pusat-pusat perbelanjaan! Bahkan papan informasinya pun bukan dalam bahasa Indonesia. Untunglah, beberapa peralatan elektronik yang kubeli kini menyertakan panduan dalam bahasa Indonesia.

Lalu, beberapa pekan setelah penetapan anggota legislatif terpilih, sebuah suratkabar menyoroti kemampuan para anggota DPR baru yang terbatas dalam berbagai fungsi DPR, seperti menyusun anggaran dan undang-undang. Bagaimana nasib undang-undang kita jika para penyusunnya tidak mahir berbahasa Indonesia? Bisa salah tafsir di mana-mana. Atau justru itu yang dituju? Agar undang-undang dapat ditafsirkan bermacam-macam dan memberi celah?

Pertanyaan 2: Apa itu "petahana"? Sebuah kata yang mulai menggantikan istilah kesukaan sebelumnya, "berjalin kelindan".

Ternyata menyenangkan, merasakan bahwa koran-koran utama tampak turut memikul beban bahasa Indonesia. Ini membuat saya lebih sering membaca koran mencari padanan kata-kata asing dalam bahasa Indonesia. Dalam beberapa bulan terakhir, beberapa padanan kata untuk istilah-istilah tertentu mulai menempel dalam ingatan.

Jadi, mari kita jujur! Siapa berani hirau bahasa Indonesia? Jangan-jangan justru negeri tetangga kita yang mengangkat tangan, mengakuinya.

The Itch of Sustainability

2009-09-28T05:04:00.002+07:00

How’s that for a film title?!

I suppose commemoration of a year after the great fall of economy following Lehman Brothers bankruptcy last year, no doubt, brought it to the fore. But I found hearing it on the news or reading it in newspaper unbearable.

… sustainable…

I seemed to have developed a phobia for the word. When I skimmed the paper and read the word “sustainable recovery” (on a coverage of G20 Summit), my stomach ached. I wanted to throw up. Suddenly, I felt itchy on my limbs. I admit it was the first “sustainable” I read in weeks, which probably means I haven’t read much lately.

But I think I’ve had enough of that “s” word. It had infiltrated almost every aspect of my life. It dominated and coloured the economic-speak and politic-speak that characterised the year national calendar. Politicians, officials, and bureaucrats use the word to look and sound intelligent. It was scattered in interviews, public speeches, lectures, and articles. Even a banner in the road I passed today read, “Dengan semangat Idul Fitri, mari kita bangun kebersamaan yang sustainable (with the spirit of Idul Fitri, let’s build sustainable togetherness)” or something similar. I had to pull over because I couldn’t contain the laughter, and itch.

It reminded me of another fancy word, “millennium”, that ran amok at the beginning of the 2000s. And there lays hope that, like the “millennium” that then went out of fashion, it will pass eventually.

A Post-Ramadhan Blues

2009-09-23T02:43:00.006+07:00

One hears over and over again how one is victorious after a month of fasting. After controlling one’s worldly cravings during the day and doing rigorous worship throughout the Holy Ramadhan, one returns to fitrah and innocence like a newborn baby.

But I found it hard to reconcile such picture of innocence with what I saw that evening.

On the eve of Iedul Fitri, on the way home from work, I found the night alive and crowded with assortments of spectacle. There were motorbikes and bicycles convoys. Pick-up trucks paraded with “bedug” that were more like a football-match-win parade. People on either side of the road were buying and selling –among the commodities were fresh flowers for grave visits, which I could still smell miles later and triggered a nasty (memory of an unpleasant) hallucination– or simply enjoying the night away. I even saw fireworks, more and merrier than I’d seen on new year’s eve. I went passed a number of cafés offering live music, some were so loud that I wondered if anyone can enjoy it. The streets too were full of ad billboards, banners and displays, conveying Iedul Fitri greetings.

The atmosphere was clearly celebratory. But I didn’t feel like celebrating. I kept thinking that there was something wrong with this picture. As if Ramadhan had been a prison, now that it had ended and we gained our liberty, let’s go back to “business” as usual. I supposed it was another bout of “post-ramadhan blues”. But I couldn’t help but feel sad.

As I reached a turn at a junction, I realised what was missing. The further I went down the path that lead up to the hill where I live, the quieter and darker it got. But here, where the sky was filled with stars instead of fireworks and lamplights and the music was the lulling humming of the night wind, one can hear clearly the relentless voices from distant places, “Allahu Akbar… Allahu Akbar… Allahu Akbar,” that defined what the night should be, the night of Takbir.

I recalled a story Cat Stevens/Yusuf Islam mentioned in an interview with Simon Mayo, on BBC 5Live’s Daily Mayo in July⁽¹⁾ –I’ve read about the story somewhere but sort of forgotten about it⁽²⁾.

It’s about a little girl (or is it a boy) who had had a newborn baby sister (or brother?). She asked her parents if she could be left alone with her baby sister for a moment. They first thought it wasn’t a sound idea. Yet, she insisted. And when they finally let her, they overheard her asking the baby, “tell me about God. I’m beginning to forget.”

If we were returning to innocence like newborn baby, with memory of the "primordial pledge and testimony"⁽³⁾ all souls have made still fresh in mind, then where was God in all these celebrations? What exactly were we celebrating?

We are indeed beginning to forget... Allahumaghfirli.

Taqabbalallahu minna wa minkum...
Happy Iedul Fitri 1430 Hijriyah.

1. I have the interview podcast. Let me know if anyone wants it.

2. Found similar story when I browsed the web.

3. QS Al A'raf:172, "When thy Lord drew forth from the Children of Adam - from their loins- their descendants, and made them testify concerning themselves, (saying): 'Am I not your Lord (who cherishes and sustains you)?'- They said: 'Yea! We do testify!' (This), lest ye should say on the Day of Judgement: 'Of this we were never mindful'" (English translation by Yusuf Ali, from Islamicity.com)

“Do You Believe in Jazz?”

2009-09-12T00:35:00.003+07:00

My, my
Oh the feelin'
Of the sound
Precious and real and
Ooo that's nice
Whip up some steamin' jazz
The pot is on the stove
It's cookin'
Want some more
We always save some
Art nouveau
For special patrons
You look nice
Do you believe in jazz…

-- Soul Food To Go (music: Djavan, lyrics:Doug Figer)

The-cool-kid developed an “addiction” to Karaoke after I brought him along to a gathering with my friends sometime ago. He even preferred karaoke-ing to going to cinema when Ice Age 3 was showing. Though he has yet to appreciate karaoke’s esoteric raison d'être as he keeps the microphone to himself.

2004 Ig Nobel Peace Prize : Daisuke Inoue of Hyogo, Japan, for inventing karaoke, thereby providing an entirely new way for people to learn to tolerate each other.

Ig Nobel Prize winners at improbable.com

It doesn’t matter as I can’t sing. I think I am permanently scarred by a friend’s remark on my singing years ago. “Noel, you sound jazzy.” Had it been a compliment or a mockery, a less offensive way to point out I had just been out of tune? I’d wondered and decided it had been the latter.

Even so, I had been obliged to sing in every Independence day celebration when I grew up. “Contribute!” I had been told, as no one had come forward to take the task. They apparently had had more common sense than I had…

I’d wondered what singing has got to do with Independence day. Or with anything, as people seem to resort to singing for almost everything. Got broken-hearted? Sing! Disaster strikes? Sing grievance and sorrow (and do nothing real to help)! Ramadhan? Sing praises and wails in self-pity and self-importance! Lebaran? I bet singing performances would dominate the celebration! And it doesn’t help either that the lyrics has less style and lesser substance.

Hmm… We’ve been crowded with sounds, coherent or incoherent. I think it’s time we should promote “silence”. Music is after all an organised sound and silence.

Lost in Space

2009-09-03T00:48:00.007+07:00

Two days before August ended, I managed to use up only 40% of my internet access monthly quota. It wasn’t because I was on internet diet. It was because, once again, the-cool-kid dragged me into playing PS2 game that had been stashed under my bed for sometimes.

It all started years ago.

I was sitting in front of the computer, battered down, drinking my coffee, while celebrating the finale of Xenogears adventure. Since it had been such an emotional, philosophical, and spiritual roller-coster, thought provoking, physically draining, and mind blowing, I read each letters in the rolling credits as I wanted to know just about everyone who had made that experience possible.

No wonder..., I mumbled. Some names were familiar. Tetsuya Takahashi the director and writer — I thought I'd seen his name in FFVI as well, and elements of FFVI was also present in Xenogears. Itô Aiko, doing the english translation, had co-translated, with Graeme Wilson, several works of Natsume Sôseki. And of course, there was Mitsuda Yasunori, whose work in Chrono Trigger and in Chrono Cross stayed in my mind and heart. I am now listening to Chrono Trigger's End of time, the jazz version....

And then... there came one of the biggest shock of the (last) century.

As I read that episode V thing... I choked and spilled my coffee. What's that episode V thing! There are more! Does that mean I'd missed episode I to IV?

Those thoughts were thoroughly annoying. Just when I thought I'd grasped the Xenogears Universe, those letters suggested that I might've known only a little. Hmm, there is nothing I detest more than unfair judgement, and partial information, incomplete story, bias, whatever... often figure into that. The thought that my understanding of Xenogears Universe might be faulty tipped my equilibrium. I have to know... I need to know...

Then I learnt that it was originally the fifth installment of a six-part story. I also learnt that some of the production crew that created Xenogears and the Chrono series had left Squaresoft, established Monolith Soft and planned to do the story.

I felt exalted.

But the Xenogears experience taught me that the journey required perseverance, zeal, endurance, and piles of books and references on alchemy, and Jung, Freud, and Nietzsche’s philosophy. At the time, with studies and work load, I couldn’t afford multi-tasking and split attention. So when Xenosaga Episode I: Der Wille zur Macht came out, I bought the game, stored it in my wardrobe. So did I with Xenosaga II Jenseits von Gut und Böse and Xenosaga Episode III: Also sprach Zarathustra. Then, I think I sort of forgot them.

Xenosaga

Five or six months ago, we thought the cool kid was old enough to be allowed to play games on PS2. He rejoiced of course, but also demanded that I accompanied him and played the game for him whenever he got stuck on something. And when he bumped into the Xenosaga discs, yet unable to understand RPG and its battle system,.......... my chance to play these games came at last.......... hahahahaha.

I am about to go through Episode III’s final battles. All in all, it’s not as overwhelming as Xenogears experience, partly because I think it is less compressed and has more distraction than Xenogears, and I can no longer do 24-hour reckless gaming as I once did. But Xenosaga still took up all my free time and sleep, and accounted for the unprecedented lack of internet use in August.

One may wonder why, in the holy month of Ramadhan, I waste such precious time on these games. But I’ll rationalize. These games serve as a bouncing wall where I can toss ideas and have thoughts experiments on the extreme opposite of my belief system. In a way, these games reinforce my faith… yeah, yeah… keep rationalizing, noel!

Memento Mori, Memento Vivere

2009-08-25T21:44:00.004+07:00

It was shocking, I must say, when my 5-year-old brother, aka the-cool-kid, innocently asked, “Why aren’t you buried, Dad?”

“Why should I be? I am still alive.” Dad smiled while Mum and I gave a nervous chuckle.

I tried to assess if the-cool-kid was attempting a bad joke. Yet he looked genuinely curious.

“You had been hit by a motorbike, hadn’t you?” The-cool-kid reasoned. “Why are you still alive?”

It is still too early to explain that fact of life to a five year-old, ay? I flinched.

“Well, I did get a broken leg,” Dad said, “but since my time to die hasn’t come, I live on.”

“Why?” The-cool-kid still posed questions. “What do you mean what-time comes and what-not?”

Hmm… maybe it is time to explain death to the-cool-kid.

Later that day, we received news that one of our neighbours passed away.

I flinched.

It was the latest in a series of losses during the past three months. First, an acquaintance's daughter died of an illness. Then, a friend’s mum passed away. And then, My granduncle died. And then, my uncle (Dad’s younger brother) died due to a complication after a “collision” —two days before my uncle died, when we received the news of the accident, Dad reminisced that all the men from his side of family seemed to fall victim to traffic accident— caused a severe internal organ damage. And then, another uncle (Mum’s elder brother) died of stroke.

I felt as if death was closing in my social and family circles, getting nearer and nearer to me. It made me wonder if I was afraid of dying, and why, should my time come now. It shouldn’t be considered unhappy thoughts, I told myself. It is a fact of life.

Just moments ago, some boys buried a cat in front of the house. One of them ran over it. The cat didn’t die immediately, ran, and managed to get into our yard and died there. It had looked as if it had been sleeping deeply when we’d found it. The boys, bearing the responsibility, had dug a grave and buried the cat. This makes our yard grave to four deceased cats over the years.

So I told myself one more time that it is a fact of life.

Still, I flinched.

Counting down…

2009-08-17T07:49:00.001+07:00

So, The Stig is actually......

2009-06-22T09:17:00.001+07:00

Michael Schumacher (BBC) ? Hmmm.... Why am I not convinced?

If Anything...

2009-06-13T20:08:00.001+07:00

If anything, I commend the upcoming presidential election hustle bustle for the discourse in economy that currently runs rampant. We don't get that very often. At least, we are exposed to something more substantial than just candidate imaging-marketing stunts.

Too bad, though… some campaign teams dumb down the by-play by dismissing us, voters, as mere “laypersons,” unqualified to question the practices and policies we have endured.

Do we really need foreigners to spell out what’s been going on?

There is a very wealthy class here and it is growing, but so is the gap between rich and poor.

While the top 2% are swanning around the brand name stores, more than half the country's workforce earn hardly enough to feed themselves.

(“Falling down Indonesia's social ladder,” by former BBC Indonesia correspondent Claire Bolderson.)

I recalled a conversation my brother and I had when he drove me to work at 5.20 am, a year ago. We went pass couple of morning markets that were so lively in the wee hours.

bro, “There's got to be something wrong about our economy...”

moi, quoting the Murphy's Law, “... if anything can go wrong, it will...”

bro, “Look at these, I challenge whoever says our people are lazy to come and see these, and think again!… They are hard workers. They are just being denied opportunities and systematically impoverished.”

Hmm…

Broccoli vs. Cauliflowers: Sibling Rivalry?

2009-05-31T23:14:00.007+07:00

It all started with a cooking book of 30+ recipees that fashion vegetables into friendlier and palatable feast. Most of them use broccoli. And Granma wondered, "why not cauliflowers?"

"Why bother?" I was amused by her protest.

"Broccoli has more reputation because it's used a lot in western cuisine. So It's considered classier. But broccoli and cauliflower taste, more or less, the same and share, more or less, the same nutritional contribution," she said. "Cauliflower, you know, is more in line with commoners. It's cheaper and easily available in traditional markets."

whoa!... into food politics aren't we, dear?

Well. I have never thought of it that way. I've always thought broccolli dan cauliflower were interchangeable and I am using them interchangeably. The mixed-meatballs, a quickie dish I often made, for example, would still do well with either broccoli or cauliflower. However, Granma's comment prompted me to take a closer look at food I ate out and the cooking shows on TV.

So far, I do find cauliflower almost a non-existence in cooking shows on TV. Last time I skimmed cooking books in bookshop (err... read them and took notes on the spot to save money), cauliflower seldom appears, a stark contrast to broccoli's prominent presence. When I recently had a pizza fest with friends, granma's remarks may have been vindicated.

Now I do wonder why.

I can't help but agree with some of granma's points, though broccoli's nutritional value is a bit better. Additionally, broccoli might have been more favourable, in media and on plates, because of its livelier flashier colour.

Hmm... then again, why bother?

Old Wounds

2009-03-02T20:15:00.010+07:00

Today, Dad is undergoing another surgery on his injured leg. A small one. Still, I worry. The wound from his previous surgery should have closed and been healed by now, but it didn't. He'd been doing okay actually, walking about vigorously almost without cane or crutch, yet these past two days he resorted back to wheelchair. He refused to make a fuss on it just as he had done when he'd gotten into the accident last October.

Okay... that's a wrong term. "'Collision,'" said Sergeant Nicholas Angel in Hot Fuzz. "For 'accident' implies there is nobody to blame."

Police Constable Danny Butterman dan Sergeant Nicholas Angel (Nick Frost and Simon Pegg) discussed the change in Official Vocabulary guidelines, which no longer refers to car crashes as accidents: They are now called collisions.

It had been unusual of him to take that course that day, walking to the post office to pay electricity bill. Dad had said it would be good for health. He had been minding his way, walking on the right side of the road and all. Yet, "bad things happen," he said. An underaged biker had run into him from behind. Dad's right leg had been broken.

The kid biker, though, had had it worse. He'd got concussion and been unconscious for days. His parent had come and apologized. Police too had come and asked if we would press charges. But Dad had dismissed it, saying that the guilt the kid would bear for the rest of his life was more than enough.

To this day, I have mixed feelings about the whole thing. I was angry... and I think I still am. Watching Dad struggling with his new-found "physical challenge" had been painful to me. Only last ramadhan, I began to truly appreciate his persistence on going to mosque every dawn for shubuh and comprehend his need to do so. Now he can't do it anymore. He and Fahmi had shared routines of walking around the block every morning, browsing the sunday market at Gasibu and playing at Pusdai. Now they can't do it anymore.

The doctors have given hope that Dad would recover and be able to walk again. But Dad being almost a septuagenarian raises questions of the feasibility of growing bones at his age. Dad, being the realist and optimist as he has alway been, still joked, though. "So what?! That's life! I am old. It's a blessing."

Dad... you are amazing.

Ode to A Banker: Et tu, Brute?

2009-02-12T19:50:00.007+07:00

Is it subsconsciousness at play? I rummaged a pile of old books in the attic and found, among others, Lindsey Davis's "Ode to a Banker"

Don't think I share the current global mood towards the profession, or care. Just that... I had a good fit of laughter today watching world's top bankers being grilled in the USA and UK. Wish our own members of parliament had had the guts to do the same to our long lost BLBI obligors.

But I think I definitely need something cheerful and uplifting in this bleak economy. I'd reread the book. Must admit I miss good old Marcus Didius Falco.

Ode to a Banker

Another 'Rat' Year?

2009-01-01T19:07:00.004+07:00

Resolutions
Well Baby they come and go
Will I do any of these things?
The answer's probably no...

‘Next Year Baby’, Jamie Cullum ( Twenty Something).

I went home straight from work last night, and managed to witness people celebrating new year. The streets were full, but not as crammed as I'd thought it would. Perhaps, the crisis factored in it? Not bad. Though I prefer the solemn, quiet other nights.

The fireworks, however, were lame, sorry. Of course, if one compared them to that of Beijing Olympics opening ceremony, they were out of league. Hotels along the way popped them with no concept and these fireworks appeared at less than desirable altitude.

So... gone is the year of Rat. But I have a gut feeling, I'll be seeing more crushed, run-over rats on streets this year.

Fahmi's favourite film, so far (Ratatouille).

They've been taking the blame of men's shameful act of corruption without being able to defend themselves. It really itches me that anti-corruption movements use rat to symbolize the illicit acts and actors. Really! Can't we, human, stop attributing our erratic behaviour to these animals, and have the courage to take 'the credit'? These 'unsung heroes' have been subjected to researches without protest for our ends. They've been genetically engineered and manipulated to help man push the edges of science. They deserve more than just being the receiving end of our angry outbursts.

The poor things...

speedy blogging competition: gone is the will...

2008-12-21T18:18:00.005+07:00

Well, it's past deadline. I didn't manage to get the blog ready for competition.

Oh, well. There is no need crying over spilled milk.

The major hurdle happens to be my-moody-self. And the fact that I've been busy downloading stuff and enjoying them. Thought I read somewhere that reading and writing go hand in hand. Apparently not in my case.

So...

December brought back memories of my first time blogging... at 22nd, 2003, right on "Mother's Day." Then, there was the exciting blogging experience that followed up to the vanishing of my random babbles, the event that served as the "straw that broke the camel's back". The competition had been intended to rekindle my blogging passion...

Oh, well. There is no need crying over spilled milk.

"my random babbles" is up and running!

2008-09-05T20:35:00.000+07:00

After long 2 years, "my random babbles" is now up and running again........ *weep in joy* Will try to put the previous theme back on....

On hold!

2008-01-08T22:39:00.001+07:00

Ehm... saya bermaksud pindahan (sementara sih.... karena masih cinta blogspot) ke wordpress.com.

Jadi ya... see you there!

Ramadhan 1428 Hijriyah

2007-10-13T22:25:00.001+07:00

This year's Ramadhan has been interesting... and it all started with a dream...

____

Out of breath, I was running up spiral staircases that led to a strange scene. A moon, looking incredibly out of proportion, highlighted everything in the vicinity. At the center of attention were a huge round trampoline and, at the other end of the spacious ground, a "tramp" floating, smiling, greeting, "Bon soir! You are on time, Mademoiselle!"

The trampoline was familiar. Whenever I was going to get sick, like catching a fever, I dreamt of playing trampoline. But the tramp had never been there before, although she was familiar in different context — she was Harle, the 7^th dragon from Chrono Cross.

I looked back and forth between the trampoline and Harle, trying to make their connection. And, after sometimes, her mysterious smile grew more and more disquieting.

"... and why are you here?" I finally asked. "By any chance, my dream hasn't turned into some sort of.... son et lumière, has it?"

Her smile vanished. Looking apprehensive, she turned to the bright moon. "This time," she spoke quietly as if to herself, "it's going to be different..."

"Different? What do you mean?" I was puzzled.

But she put on the smile back and did the trade-mark somersault. "Come! Tonight's air feels fantastic...," she said and then shot up.

So I got onto the trampoline. With a single stomp, I was propepelled into the night sky. Though I knew that I was getting sick, I always liked this virtual sensation of soaring through the clouds. I could almost hear the wind whispering in excitement. And, as gravity didn't seem to cease functioning even in dreams, I began freefalling at a point.

And then, the morning alarm rang. Between sleep and awake, I thought I saw Harle walking away as she said, "Au revoir!... See you soon... It'll be lonely by yourself, so I'll keep you company..."

And so I fell, face down, with a 39,7 degree centigrade fever.

____

39,7. Apart from it being made up from my favourite numbers, I didn't really know what that meant. It was just.... numbers. And I never cared much about body temperature numbers. I do know the normal temperature of 36,5, but what happens if it goes past 39 is beyond me. All I felt was delirium. I felt light and floating.

But it was slightly different. Within two days, another number came up: my platelet level dropped to 132000. I was sent to hospital — my first time ever. Another day went by, the platelet level dropped to 70000, and the next day, to 13000.

I was coughing blood.

____

"Are you quitting your life....?"

"What?! says who?" I disagreed wholeheartedly.

"Whatever you say... but by the rate you're going... you'd be a goner."

We were playing chess. Harle proved to be a formidable player. So far I hadn't scored any winning.

"You're obviously not fighting!" She said while moving her knight, "you see... checkmate!"

____

For the first time, I felt fear of dying. For the first time, I was unwilling to say the prayer ...and end my life if it's better for me.... I thought hard why I wasn't willing even if it was for my best... No, I don't want to die. I don't think I am ready yet...

In the meantime, I asked grandma, who looked after me at the hospital, to force me to drink every thirty minutes. And my right hand started to swell, as the nurses now took blood samples every morning and afternoon.

____

Another dream, and it was a labyrinth.

"They say labyrinth is built to hide things... to ward off those who shouldn't get them, who quit looking for a way..."

"And what's in there?"

"That is for you to find out!"

For days, I walked through the labyrinth. Twice, I came back at the starting point. Countless times, there were walls keeping me off the track. But in the end, I reached the vault.

I found two books. The first one was filled with words to the last page while the other contained fresh blank pages.

"the book of my life...." I read the title on both books.

"Yes, your life..."

"Both of them?"

"That is... if you still have time to live," Harle said. "Read the old one... is it concluded?"

I jumped to the last page, and read the last three words "..... to be continued."

____

"Your platelet are leveling up. It's now back to 70000. With sufficient bedrest in couple of days, you'll be okay..." the doctor spoke.

Alhamdulillah... I am going home.

____

In our last chess match, there wasn't much exchanges. I tried hard to beat her, but in the end, I still lost.

"So this is good bye?"

"For a while..."

And she vanished.

____

This year's Ramadhan taught new thing, be aware of numbers!, and reminded me of other thing...

Though the pages are numbered,
I can't see where they lead...
For the end is a mystery no one can read,
in the book of my life...

— Sting, Book of My Life

Thank you, Ramadhan! and hope to meet again next year, preferably without the trampoline and the tramp..... amiin.

Taqabbalallahu minna wa minkum.... minal aidin wal faidzin... have a festive 'Iedul Fitri 1428 Hijriyah...

Friends, makasih do'a-do'a-nya...

......... hmm... the whole thing made me recall that song... 'dreams are for those who sleep, life is for us to keep....'

On "Deathly Hallows"

2007-07-23T09:05:00.001+07:00

....finished reading the Deathly Hallows for the 2nd time.

hmm.... Impression on first read: chaotic. Impression on second read: chaotic. Heh! But I like chaos!

anyway, favourite phrase from this book (without spoiling anything): "always the tone of surprise..."

The Good, The Bad, and The Puffed-Up Popinjay

2007-07-23T09:02:00.001+07:00

I suddenly recall the dialogue between Dumbledore and McGonagall in the first film. More or less...

...while waiting for Hagrid "delivering" baby Potter...

McGonagall, "Are the rumours true, Albus?"
Dumbledore, "I'm afraid so... the good and the bad..."
McGonagall, "... and the boy?"

Hmm. Better start with The Good (rumour) first: Nodame Cantabile is going to have a two-night special live-action in New Year 2008, with Ueno Juri and Tamaki Hiroshi reprising their roles as Nodame and Chiaki Sinichi. I should keep my expectation under control and excercise patience but... hurray! And The Bad one is that I am still (willingly) lost and stuck in between good and evil. So, I am quoting Mr. Gibbs, "the world seems a bit less bright..." at the possibility of a future where personality and conciousness can be switched on and off at will... This is why I've been taking a daily dose of Mitsuda Yasunori-san's Gnosis. Hmm, and why, whenever I hum Gnosis, Ravel's Bolero frequently comes up?... in a way, the end turns to Bolero's dum-dum-dum-ba-dum... aneh, deh...

And The Puffed-Up Popinjay... or, according to McGonagall, The Boy. I had just seen Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Else, why would I recall the first film.

Spoiler Warning...

The things stuck in my head from the fifth book is summed up by the following banter...

“You know,” said Phineas Nigellus, even more loudly than Harry, “this is precisely why I loathed being a teacher! Young people are so infernally convinced that they are absolutely right about everything. Has it not occurred to you, my poor puffed-up popinjay, that there might be an excellent reason why the Headmaster of Hogwarts is not confiding every tiny detail of his plans to you? Have you never paused, while feeling hard-done-by, to note that following Dumbledore's orders has never yet led you into harm? No. No, like all young people, you are quite sure that you alone feel and think, you alone recognise danger, you alone are the only one clever enough to realise what the Dark Lord may be planning —”

“He is planning something to do with me, then?” said Harry swiftly.

“Did I say that?” said Phineas Nigellus, idly examining his silk gloves. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have better things to do than listen to adolescent agonising... good-day to you.” And he strolled to the edge of his frame and out of sight.

“Fine, go then!” Harry bellowed at the empty frame. "And tell Dumbledore thanks for nothing!"

(Christmas on the Closed Ward, OotP)

Harry is in frustration for being deprived of explanation, left in the dark and "left out" of whatever plan and action, fed up for being treated like a child. Harry is frightened by the thought of the beast he might possibly be. He doubts himself and, to an extent, his best friends and the grown-ups he looks up to. Harry is, as Phineas Nigellus said, having his adolescent agonising moments. And this is where Harry (and the readers) finds out there's more than meets the eyes... in his scar, Snape loathing the Marauder, politics in the Ministry of Magic, etc. He can't confide how he feels witnessing a friend dying, or sharing mind and mood with Voldemort, as the world thinks he's unhinged. What's more... Harry learns an uncomfortable truth that his father had been every bit as arrogant as Snape had told him.

Since getting all the 950++ pages into two-hour film is out of question, and as the predecessors have shown, cut is expected. Yet, I wished THAT scene would be included, just to see Harry condescended... hehehe, because when I was reading the fifth book, I frequently had the urge to shake our dear poor puffed-up popinjay up for being stubborn and snappish. Heh! Maybe, just as Dumbledore put it, "... Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young..." (The Lost Prophecy, OotP), I might have forgotten what it was to be young and fifteen too.

Anyway, I have mixed feelings about the fifth film. But one thing for sure, this time around, I don't care if non-reader folks won't understand the film. THIS is the fifth of seven books. It has passed the setup stages. It's BOUND to take the major plot that the first four have established further. So, if one wishes to understand, read the book!

This fifth film instantly reminded me of Alfonso Cuaron's PoA. The roller-coaster broom ride to Grimmauld Place had similar feel to the Knight Bus ride in PoA, so did the juxtaposition of muggle and magical worlds. There was less spells and charms to enthrall the audience. Well, there's no need to because it's time to see beyond the magical exterior, into something common: human bond.

And just how puffed up our dear popinjay has been? The "Harry" in the fifth film is less angry and more thoughtful than what I had imagined. For a while I thought the angry "Harry" in Cuaron's PoA would suit the fifth film better. But on second thought, considering the truncated background, this "Harry" shows the isolation much better.

Just as Cuaron's PoA, there is huge liberty in adapting the book. Everything is altered. Yet, unlike PoA that messes up characterization, despite the absence of detailed character-defining moments (Prefects, "Weasley is Our King", Phineas Nigellus's "adolescent agonising", Snape and the Marauders, The Longbottoms at St. Mungo's Hospital, the significance of the lost prophecy), the fifth film still gives out vibes of the fifth book: Harry in isolation; attachments among characters; Hogwarts in order bordering chaos; sense of dread and anticipation of something that has long been brewing, threatening to erupt; and the bleakness.

Though, yeah... once more, I wonder why they excluded the Marauders and Snape's ambiguity as spy for both the Order and Voldemort... hmmm, keeping it for HBP, eh, Mr. Yates? Still I have yet to decide whether I like it or not, though I don't think it matters. In the end, even with these massive adjustments, I think the Director David Yates and Screenwriter Michael Goldenberg got the spirit of the fifth book (mostly) right. Evanna Lynch as Luna Lovegood and Helena Bonham Carter as Bellatrix Lestrange (can't believe she's Charlie Bucket's mum) are refreshing.

There's a lot of shattered glass... hmm, wonder if it meant what I thought it meant... Hmm. I just had one strangely funny moment though. The moment Percy Weasley showed up restraining Harry... Why on earth did I suddenly remember Lord Percy Percy (Tim McInnerny) from Blackadder? I wonder if it's intentional. Hahahaha....

Time waits for no man

2007-05-03T08:17:00.001+07:00

[ridiculousness]

Can't believe myself today!

Because of recurring incidents of being lost in cyberspace.... and to prevent from going astray again, I keep a to-do list before jumping into the Internet these days... you know... similar to shopping-list to keep you from buying unnecessary things. But today... the first thing that I googled about was beyond the to-do list: “dimpled mobster”

Just couldn't help laughing when the Doc said, “Wang Yoon (of Three Kingdoms), eh? I am not sure... I hardly remember... I do know Hwang Bo Yoon though. Well, you know, the man from Chosun era... I believe he was some sort of a... police commander..., wasn't he?”

Hahahahahahaha! A nice contrast from “doryunim” to “doomoknim” ......... from “dimpled master" to “dimpled mobster (chief)” ........ hahahahaha!

[/ridiculousness]

background music: new radicals — you get what you give... heh! why is this song so... telling!

Hmm, the fourth month of the year already left the blog without a single post. Is keeping a resolution to blog at least once a month... too much, eh? Well, Mr. Cullum said resolution come and go...

I am at a point where I wonder what to write though I have much to tell. You know... when you become self-conscious about things you write. You wonder how people would percieve you through your words. Will they find you shallow when you write about those melodramas people look down upon? Will they find you lacking intelligent if you can't even understand the string-theory? Will they find you astronomically low if you won't admit the superiority of jazz? Hence, you think twice or thrice about things.

For sometime, I've been enjoying being anonymous in the net. Without restraint and worries, I could be as dumb, as shallow, and as low as I want to, get to know and share with people who appreaciate it. In other words, by being anonymous, I could be me and free. Yet, after moments of recharging, refreshening, and well-mannered frivolity in anonymity, I think it's time to step out of the shadow and put on my identity back (....that old what's in a name adage...). No matter how free being anonymous is, regardless the burden a name has given you, identity grants you the ground to stand and belong to.

Thinking back, I guess I'm lacking what had made mrb fun: spontaneity. At the spur of the moment, I could just babble out of nowhere. Why can I not now? And considering that this blog has nearly zero visitor, I shouldn't have thought too much as these thinking are eating me out... hahaha... However, I really am enjoying this quietude.

Right.... let's just throw caution to the wind and get down to what started all these babbles on dimples....

There's one junction that I sometimes go through. It is crowded with cars, of course, and beggars. Its distinctive "landmark", however, are the street-musicians dressing up in female attire... transvestites. They seem to have grown in numbers these couple of years and improved in manner as well. Some may look at them with cynicism, some with amusement. Well, I have mixed feelings about them, but most of the time, I fear them... for men dressing up and behaving like women give off creepiness... and envy them... for they possess elegance and grace that I could never have. Bah!

Anyway, change in routine stopped me from going through that junction. For a while, the junction and its colourful transvestites were forgotten. Until couple of days ago.... I went through it and saw a familiar face in one of them from that same junction years ago. And I remember him because of his dimples!

The first time I saw him, I thought it might have been his first time performing in woman's clothes and make-up for he didn't give me the creeps. Instead, I saw and sensed that he was suffering. He was stiff. He looked anxious and embarrassed. While going from one car to another, he bent his head down. As he reached the next car, he pulled an effort to sway in feminine manner with difficulty. It earned him mocking sneers from the crowd and some of his "professional colleagues". His amateurish make-up couldn't hide his face as it turned scarlet. He showed a mental struggle in putting on a smile, a bitter smile... And that bitter smile made his dimples memorable. I wondered that, perhaps, the whole thing had hurt his pride and dignity. Though, I didn't think I need to wonder what had made him do it. And each time I went through that junction I saw him, still trying... That was three or four years ago.

Now, look-wise... he was... hmm... so refined. He swayed smoothly and gracefully. He now shared the same eeriness as the others had! When he came near my car, he no longer bent his head down and looked straight at me. He put on a wide smile. His smile no longer looked bitter. Yet... for a split second or two, his eyes showed that old struggle though the fire had dwindled. And now... somehow... to me... his smile and dimples looked pitiful and sad, for he was slowly losing himself.... Or was he? Does he think this is the place where he really belongs to? That sad thought made this junction a sad spot.

Hmmm... after all these babbles on... ehm... dramatic dimples... I think I shall revisit the dimpled naeuri and his left police bureau squad ....hmmm.... it is going to be one sad viewing! So.... should I? Hehehe!

heh! even the background song is so fitting as well! .... Phill Collins' True Colours!

Dead Man’s Chest: What Vexes All Men

2007-02-07T15:41:00.001+07:00

I am so late. Hah! I’ll blame it on bad mood for movies last year. Thanks to an uncommon arrangement of good timing and bad case of flu, my chance came at last.

Hmm. It’s a trilogy, eh? I wonder why some thought DMC’s plot is incoherent. It is more complex than previous film, but that is to be expected. Though it took me two viewings to actually like it. The first viewing left me dizzy (I think that’s the flu at play). It was like hmm.... what? wait! Will & Elizabeth... and Jack?... East India Trading? Barbossa? After the second viewing, and putting new context to CotBP experiences, DMC was more welcomed.

‘... wicked Jack and his precious Pearl...’

It’s not just a keel and hull and a deck and sails. That’s what a ship needs. But what a ship is... what the Black Pearl really is... is freedom. —CotBP

After watching CotBP ages ago, I wondered why it was not called the Curse of Cortez or Isla de Muerta, as the story is about Barbossa and his crews’ attempt to get rid of Cortez’s curse. Of course, there is Jack Sparrow going to reclaim the Pearl and its captaincy, yet I wondered in what kind of curse The Pearl was involved. Other than its nigh-uncatchability (and being a black ship with black sails is cool, I think), what’s so special about the Pearl? Why was Jack Sparrow so attached to it? If he could easily outsmart the King’s Navy and commandeer the Interceptor, he can get any ship he wants. But, why he insisted on the Pearl? There is something about the Pearl that though CotBP shows its importance to Jack, it hasn’t been clearly explained.

So, when I found out there was going to be sequels of PotC, I wanted them to tell more about the Pearl — and Jack of course — and not just another adventure of Captain Jack Sparrow and crews’, a la Indiana Jones.

Captain!... Captain Jack Sparrow!

Jack Sparrow, ‘Technically, I was only captain for two years, then I was viciously mutinied upon.’
Davy Jones, ‘Then you were a poor captain, but a captain nonetheless! Have you not introduced yourself all these years as “Captain Jack Sparrow”?’

— DMC

So, what is captaincy to you, Jack?

With another dashing entry, Jack was welcomed by unhappy crews of Black Pearl (including himself, Mr. Gibbs admitted). They were dissatisifed with the running of the Pearl. ‘....perhaps dear old Jack is not serving your best interests as captain?’

Hmm, are we looking at the cause of the mutiny eleven years ago? That, instead of raiding, pillaging, and plundering, Jack had been running around doing his own thing? I can see that once he got the pearl, he’d be thinking of getting out of his debt right away. Well, we get to see Jack as a captain and it’s not a pretty picture of captainship —should PIRATE captainship be pretty? But one wondered why the Pearl’s crew returned to Port Royal to pick him up by the end of CotBP despite the pirate code of who-falls-behind-is-left-behind. And though Mr. Gibbs knows that what bodes ill for Jack bodes ill for them all, what makes Mr. Gibbs stick by Jack’s side? One expects an admirable streak within Jack Sparrow that earns him such loyalty. It’s subtle to me that I couldn’t just pinpoint what it is, but it’s there.

But time is up. Jack Sparrow is now a man with a black spot. It’s time to settle his debt: crew a hundred years upon the Flying Dutchman (‘yes... but the Flying Dutchman already has a captain...,’ Jack said) or go down with the Pearl to the bottom of the ocean. Now that the Royal Navy and East India Trading hunt him and the Pearl across the Atlantic, there is less space and choices for Jack.

...Jack Sparrow is a dying breed. The world is shrinking. The blank edges of the map filled in. Jack has to find his place in the new world or perish...

—Lord Cutler Beckett, DMC

Something about Jack that vexed Lord Beckett makes me wonder too. What has transpired between these gentlemen? I recall Elizabeth recounting the tales of the famous Captain Jack Sparrow (CotBP): he vanished from under the eyes of seven agents of East India Company; he sacked nassau port without even firing a shot... Beckett’s offer (letter of Mark that grants Jack full pardon so he’ll be free and a privateer in the employ of England) shows that Jack is clearly a valuable asset, not just his compass.... hmm, me thinks Jack’s negotational skill can be useful for East India Trading Co.

But, the captain goes down with his ship, eh?........

‘Already the world seems a bit less bright...,’ said Mr. Gibbs.

Hear! hear!

Hello, Beastie...

These past two months, I’d almost been worn out waiting for a bike purchase to arrive. I’d decided that if by the end of this third month it were still unavailable, I’d go for another brand. Then, one night, I went home and found said bike standing haughtily, greeting me. I just couldn’t help answering, ‘hello, Beastie....’ Well, I did wish to give it a name. With the bike being a winning-red —the manual said so— Id’s gear “Omni-Weltall” had lingered in mind. But now, I think I’ll call it Beastie.

Anyway, I must say the work on Flying Dutchman’s crew, and especially Kraken, is brilliant. I found Ragetti and Pintel’s squabbles over Kraken’s pronunciation hillarious. They mirrorred one of my pet peeves at work and personal interest on “what’s-in-a-name bla bla” subject.

Pintel, ‘...I always heard it said “kray-kin”’
Ragetti, ‘What? With a long Ay?’
Pintel, ‘Uh huh.’
Ragetti, ‘Na-na-na-na-no-no no “Krockken”’s how it’s pronounced in the original Scandinavian, and “Kracken”’s closer to that.’
Pintel, ‘Well we ain’t original Scandinavians, are we? Kray-kin.’
Ragetti, ‘It’s a mythological creature, I can calls it what I wants!’

— DMC

So, can one be a pirate and a good man? For the second time, we saw what kind of crews the Pearl sailed with. Everybody has a place aboard the Pearl. Though, yeah.. these recruits were to suit Jack’s dealing of handing out 99 lives to be traded with his, but I think (.... hmm, I wanted to think...) he was just trying to borrow time to gain leverage by obtaining Jones’ heart.

I like the “Piracy” issue being cast in opposition to civilized ruling of the law whose authority figures act alike: both Jack Sparrow and Lord Becketts manipulate Will and Elizabeth for their own gain. There’s also a third-party’s view (ordinary merchants with whom Elizabeth, guised as man, sailed) on East India Trading Co’s monopoly... and I just can’t help thinking of Microsoft when Mr. Gibbs assesses Beckett’s motives.

I like PotC for a sentimental reason: I love the sea. It’s one of the very rare films that engages the sea in “favourable” light. As we get more bad tidings from the sea (lost lives, tsunamis, storms outwitting man’s valour and ambition) these days, we fear, condemn, and consider it antagonistic in nature. At the same time, we plead ignorance to damage that man’s self-importance has inflicted upon it. Though PotC does portray it as harsh, ever-changing, untameable (with foul beasts mentioned only in tales, legends, and superstitions, which are more bearable than the local legend of Nyi Roro) —it is the way of the sea since times immemorial, eh?— it gives promise of life as well. Plus, PotC does not (I hope it won’t) associate the sea and its beaches with windswept models in “modern” swimming suits, sun-bathing, or jetset’s leisure cruises. It echoes my sentiments of the sea: mystery, adventure, freedom, and self-discovery. Besides, it’s refreshing to see battles on sea as well as wooden-ship chases instead of cars...

There’s so much on DMC I’d like to comment: Gov. Swann’s lack of trust in everyone and everything (Will, Beckett, and even in system he served); Beckett’s silence on Will’s question of the mark that Jack left on Beckett (we know now who put the “P” mark on Jack’s hand); Will and Bill Turner; Will and Elizabeth with Jack in between (though I’m certain, the name William goes with Elizabeth... as does Fitzwilliam Darcy with Elizabeth Bennet in Austen’s PnP. Heh, it was funny when Jack called her “Lizzie” because Ms. Knightley played the role of Elizabeth Bennet in Joe Wright’s PnP, which gave her Oscar nomination. So is Tom Hollander’s Lord Beckett and Elizabeth’s exchanges as Mr. Hollander played Mr. Collins’ part in Joe Wright’s PnP); Jack falling from the cliff onto a green garden along with falling fruits reminds me of the tale “Jack and the Bean” or something; Davy Jones; etc, etc.......... but I had better stop. This afterthought is getting a tad too long.

To the World’s End

Jack Sparrow, ‘Have you not met Will Turner? He’s noble, heroic.... terrific soprano...’

Tia Dalma, ‘You have a touch of destiny about you, William Turner...’

—DMC

Er, right. Don’t we all?

Anyway, once again, Will Turner is obscured behind Jack, Elizabeth, and even Norrington. Or is he?

What did he do in DMC? Hmm... tracked down the Pearl, escaped the Pelegostos Tribe with the Pearl’s crew, managed to take Davy Jones’ key and escaped Jones’s Flying Dutchman, infuriated Kraken further though his strategy gave the Pearl’s survivors time to abandon ship, and coined the hope of bringing wicked Jack and his precious Pearl back.

Well, well, Will... you are a hero after all! But why are you robbed of your credits? Is it because Mr. Bloom plays your part? Or because you are a straight and quiet man contrasting Jack’s eccentricity and loquaciousness?

I think, CotBP had given the picture. Will is the finer blacksmith and the one who fought Jack Sparrow at the blacksmith workshop but his patron gets all the credits, both times. Will is a fine swordsman but since he kept it to himself (no chance to show it, I think), Norrington talked him down when Will adviced him to consult Jack Sparrow in locating the Pearl. Will and Jack commandeered The Interceptor. They trounced Barbossa at the end of CotBP. He saved Jack from the gallow (here, he looked funny with the hat so I thought of Jack’s praise more as a mockery, haha...), etc... etc...

Compared to his simplicity early in CotBP, Will had gone through subtle transfomation by the end of DMC. He finally got the chance to show his swordsmanship, strategic thinking, as well as leadership quality. So, Will, whatever destiny awaits you, I’ll be expecting that you get your due credits. I hope you’ll manage to save your twice cursed father from Davy Jones’ Flying Dutchman, and most importantly, dispose Lord Beckett of his wig, but don’t wear one yourself!

There’s a mention that the red cloth Jack wears about his head is actually a map. Hmm.... It hasn’t been played out in either PotC films. If it’s true, will it be crucial? Is it to do with what prompted Jack to turn to Davy Jones to reinstate the Pearl 13 years ago?

Something I noted, though I am sure it must have popped up somewhere...

The pendant in the first picture was found in Tia Dalma’s shack. It was seen when Jack Sparrow took something from her table while she was looking for the jar of dirt. The second one was found on Davy Jones’ organ at the Flying Dutchman, emitting melancholy lullaby. It was seen as Will was stealing Jones’ key. ................. Hmm, aren’t they the same? Interesting! How come Tia Dalma and Davy Jones share these similar items? I don’t think we’d seen the last of them. I have a hunch the pendants’ are going to be important in the third installment.

Now, bring me that horizon...

notes: quotes from both films are taken from their respective imdb quote pages.

Harry Potter and the Seventh Book

2007-01-02T16:40:00.000+07:00

So ... it's going to be Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

The end of HBP reminded me of Watsuki-san’s Rurouni Kenshin. Kenshin is going for the battle against Shishio Makoto and the Juppongatana. Saitou has cruelly showed him that anyone attached and dear to him is endangered for knowing him, an easy prey for Shishio and his men. So, Kenshin bids Kaoru goodbye. He goes alone, leaving Kamiya Dojo family behind. At this point of no return, he knows not whether he would come out alive. I was anxious for Kenshin.

I wished him victory, of course. I wished he would survive. But what I wished and hoped the most was that he would keep his sword Sakabatou and what it represents.

Atoning for his bloody past, Kenshin has vowed not to kill anymore. He picked up Sakabatou. This reversed-edge sword has the dull side do most of the deadly blows so if it meets flesh, it won't kill. Yet, Saitou has also pointed out that nothing stops Shishio but death. To stop him would involve killing. Saitou comes to bring out Battousai, to once more perform as the cold-blooded shadow assassin Kenshin had been. Battousai uses sword as killing tool as opposed to what the rurouni has been doing for fourteen years, using the blunt edge of the sword to defend the weak. The rurouni's philosophy of sword that doesn't kill to protect is now challenged, as well as his resolution.

Would Kenshin give up his Sakabatou? Would Kenshin's resolution, not to kill anyone, hold? How could Kenshin stop Shishio without killing him? And survive too? I was eager to see how Watsuki-san would pull this off.

Now, I feel familiar anxiety for Harry Potter.

‘The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal … but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other … for neither can live while the other survives … the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies … ’

(OotP, p.924)

‘The end of the prophecy ... it was something about ... neither can live ...’

‘... while the other survives,’ said Dumbledore.

‘So,’ said Harry, dredging up the words from what felt like a deep well of despair inside him, ‘so does that mean that ... that one of us has got to kill the other one ... in the end?’

‘Yes,’ said Dumbledore.

(OotP, p.927)

JK Rowling had molded Lord Voldemort, a character who craves power and immortality. To conquer death, he has gone further than anybody along the path that leads to it (GoF, p.566), by splitting his soul and encasing the parts in Horcruxes.

‘By an act of evil — the supreme act of evil. By commiting murder. Killing rips the soul apart. ... ’

(HBP, p.465)

Ms. Rowling had also created Harry Potter, who embodies what Voldemort has never been (at least, I think Harry should), and ‘has the power the Dark Lord knows not’ (OotP, p.924). His pure heart has spared Wormtail's life in the Shrieking Shack, and saved him from Voldemort's possession at the Department of Mystery (HBP, p.478). To save the wizarding world, Harry is now willingly taking the task to ‘vanquish’ Voldemort.

‘ ... I've got to find [Voldemort's horcruxes] and destroy them and then I've got to go after the seventh bit of Voldemort's soul, the bit that's still in his body, and I'm the one who's going to kill him. ... ’

(HBP, p.606)

So, if killing rips soul apart, won't Harry's too be ripped when he kills Voldemort? Is that the sacrifice Harry has to make? The price for defeating, say, evil? Would ‘vanquish’ really have to mean ‘kill’?

I understand this is war. Lives, as well as innocence and probably virtue, pay the price for defeating, say, evil. Still I wonder.

In the last couple of books, the loss of Sirius and Dumbledore has pushed Harry further to somewhat darker territory. He has tried one of the Unforgivables, the Cruciatus Curse, on Bellatrix Lestrange (OotP, p.927) and Severus Snape (HBP, p.562). I particularly cringed at Harry here:

‘Well, there’s one good thing,’ [Harry] said savagely. ‘Snape'll be gone by the end of the year.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Ron.

‘That job’s jinxed. No one’s lasted more than a year… Quirrell actually died doing it… Personally, I’m going to keep my fingers crossed for another death…’

‘Harry!’ said Hermione, shocked and reproachful.

(HBP, p.159)

I was shocked and reproachful too. It's not so much about the curse being unforgivable. It's the idea of Cruciatus Curse — torture. It's about Harry willing harm and suffering (and painful death) on others regardless it is induced by righteous anger or the receiving ends being evil. Harry is getting darker.

The good side will certainly prevail. Of course. I hope Harry Potter will come out of this debacle alive and victorious too. Just as the first chapter of Philosopher's Stone is “The Boy Who Lived”, it would be great to have the last chapter of Deathly Hallows called “The Man Who Lives”. But most of all, I hope the journey will help him rise above this sinister side. I hope, by the end of the day, he will still have his heart pure and his soul intact, whole and untarnished, of which incomparable power is something Voldemort never paused to understand when he set the prophecy in motion himself by going after Harry (HBP, p.478).

In Kenshin’s fight against Shishio, Watsuki-san didn't disappoint me. I hope JKR won't either.

‘No Unforgivable Curses from you, Potter!’ [Snape] shouted over the rushing of the flames...

(HBP, p.562)

Now Harry, just this once, please listen to Professor Snape.

notes: Pages refer to Bloomsbury paperback editions.

"berjalin kelindan"

2006-11-28T16:33:00.000+07:00

.....apakah artinya?

dua kali, dua orang narasumber mengungkapkannya....
dan daku bingung tak tahu artinya...

tapi terdengar keren... hmmm.......

*buka kamus besar bahasa Indonesia*

By Any Other Name?

2006-10-08T06:29:00.001+07:00

Once I had coped with the fact that my random babbles is lost forever, I managed to amuse myself in a divine mission: looking up (virtual subdomain) names for new blog. One never thought it would be such tedious and hideous task.

It was so very trying and tiring. My first choice, quietude, was unavailable. I aimed for gobbledygook, gobbledeegook, gibberish, gneiss, bla bla bla, until I heard myself grumbling, “Dunderhead! it's just a name! Make up your mind and pick one!”

I stopped. I recalled a post in muslif mailing list, in which a junior voiced, “What if Al Qur'an had been revealed in non-Arabic speaking land? in Latin, maybe? Surely we might have called the Almighty-One ‘Deus’ instead of ‘Allah’. It's just a name.”

Of course, his post set off a blast. I personally appreciated his guts, though I strongly opposed his reasoning. His what-if extrapolation was more of a wishful thinking than a possibility. I was about to post something when someone suggested ignoring him for fear of engaging in endless debate. Apparently, this particular junior seemed to have been a regular "fire cracker" in the milis and have a knack of throwing remarks on subjects of much controversy.

What prompted me to respond was a reply from another junior (I am paraphrasing his paraphrasing Shakespearean wisecrack): “What's in a name but a string of characters.”

It is true and I knew he was joking. But we, of all people, should've known better that ‘words’ set computers (and life) in motion. We need them to understand ‘jump’ and ‘return’ and act accordingly. Moreover, arrays of characters, had they not been properly null-terminated (in C), might have set computer on suicidal mode.

The thought led me to null. I always have soft spot for it in aesthetic subtext, a healthy (hopefully) respect in conceptual level, and a good dose of fear in practical use (segmentation fault, core dumped, va-va-va-voum, anyone?). Pronunciation of null in Indonesian phonetic rules often makes me jump because at times I mistake it for second syllable of my name being called out. That was an annoying and effective means of dispelling sleepiness during lessons. Considering what it represents, both in personal and cosmic level, maybe null is not a bad name for a blog, ay?

However, it seems the notion that "there is nothing new under the sun" is well-grounded. Someone has already thought of null. The choices then expanded. At first, I thought of nullify but it's taken too, and so is null-terminated that I landed with null-terminator instead. Then I looked up nullify. Thanks to answer.com, I secured nullifies, annulere, and nulificare. Too bad annul, nullified weren't available. I thought of acquiring annihilation and its offshoot too, but they didn't sound politically friendly on second thought.

So, I now have eight blogs at hand (added chronomantique and two others, but that's another story). Why is there so many? During this quest for a blog, half of me was consumed with rage because of the loss (hence the annihilation freudian slip) and the trouble of obtaining blog names. The other half was screaming for revenge: get hold of vacant names as many as possible in return. Now as things cooled down, I think having eight blogs are indeed superfluous, maintaining them would be a pain.

Nonetheless, the damage has been done. Move on.

I hope this is not only going to be the babbles clone, that I can contribute something. Sharing life experiences, though simple mine may be, hopefully enriches one's own.

And Then There Were None...

2006-09-27T06:02:00.000+07:00

.......... Yup, my random babbles is gone.

For sometime, I was at complete lost. I couldn't remember having pushed wrong buttons. I complained to blogger without getting any response. I crossed fingers for miracles, wishing it was merely temporarily unavailable or inaccessible. But, in two days, the prospect grew dimmer to a point of despair.

I decided it must have been gone for good.

Hah! Am I Sad? Of course! It's been a source of comfort and companion these past two years. It's therapeutic! What's more.... I cannot reclaim the URL, which includes my favourite signature.

Life!

Maybe it's time to get a new life, then...