To Simply be a Person

Once upon a time, I was a judge in a poem-reading competition. It was the second day of the competition, the participants who made it so far were required to write their own poems then recite it.

Now, as someone who has written poetry for so long I have my fair share of expectations of what the participants would write. I thought, for kids their age (all participants were senior high-schooler), their poetic sensibility might find itself lost in an effort to present an ultimate moral message. Like how every movie seems to fashion a trend of bringing an ‘unexpected’ twist nowadays, I prepared myself to get something within that line of expectation. My job was thus simple, determining which among them communicated the most compelling message.

My suspicion was confirmed, almost all participants took it to themselves to present something with ‘preachy’ substance. Then came the turn of this particular shy-looking girl to recite hers. She had given quite a good impression to me and the other judge for speaking in clearly better English than the rest of the participants. But this time it was not about reciting classic poems anymore, this was her own work, and I was still solid in anticipation that her work too should fall in the same category with that of her peers.

I couldn’t be more wrong. I swore hers somehow evoked an image of a crayon-picture in my mind, of dragons, of wizard, that of medieval tales, before turning it around with almost an absurd conclusion. It was an extreme opposite to her peers: hers was all poetic sensibility without any intention to preach—a pure subscription to subjectivity.

After she finished, the other judge asked me “her English was indeed excellent but what was her poem supposed to mean Jeremy?” I said, “It didn’t have to mean anything.” All I understood was she conveyed me a glimpse of the world in her head, in her own way of expressing it. Those with tendency to connect the dots to reality would find only frustration for not being able to link her work with any present moral message or any present phenomenon for that matter.

It was an ineffable experience for someone sitting at the judging table. Her poem was not supposed to be presented there, exactly because it was not meant for public evaluation, for ignorant impartial critics.

It was too much her own to be shared; no one else should put their hands on something that personal. Yet it was there, and it was beautiful.

And I saw in her not a participant tied to all the expectation in the eyes of a judge. Instead, I saw simply a person. I was appalled by how rare this was, in a world where performance is a norm, that one often finds him/herself crippled with the expectation of ‘correct’ form of expression.

I learned from her the importance of being human in this circuit-and-cable world of ours; to subscribe to elements of simplicity and honesty that truly makes us a person. It was ironic how all the other participants failed to teach me a bigger, far more transcendent lesson, compared to somebody who was not even trying to impart any lesson at all.

What’s that? Where is she nowadays? Oh we kinda lost contact for a year. Then we met again and now she is my girlfriend. What? So this is just a cliche retelling of how Selvi and I met? No it’s not, you totally miss the point, forget it!

Recently my presence is substituted by that measly little toy . . .  How dare you Optimus. Your last movie is not that good anyway.

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JC

cliché

From which side do you see it?

Where do you want to put your focus on?

Do you want to fade or sharpen the detail?

Make it blurry or make it clear?

It depends on you

You have your own point of view

Set your position, shoot, and may your heart be true

Play with the light, brightness, shadow, intensity, contrast, etcetera, etcetera

For it’s all yours to decide and it’s all yours to describe

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SA

The Family Conundrum

For someone living in a country where marriage is somewhat a norm, I was among the few with a rather strong reluctance for marriage. I used to say “I am never ever ever ever gonna get married.” Needless to say, my statement had been met with gaze of surprise and criticizing look, as if I just revealed that I had six arms.

But there was a strong reason for holding onto it for quite some time—one that goes beyond “I am always going to be cool and hang out with my friends” or “who needs settling down when you can be as free as a bird.”

Despite being a romantic, I am pragmatic enough to know that friendship often lasts only as long as contacts are maintained, and even then there is no guarantee the dynamics would remain the same. I realize that once people enter new social sphere, to strike new friendships with new circles serves our best social adaptation and survival trait.

We can’t always hope to cling to the past group we once hung out with. This doesn’t mean I regard friendship in a cynical manner—rather, I choose to make the most out of every second spent with the closest circle I have at hand, without counting out the possibility that one day everyone would go their separate ways.

So, what actually was it that made me somewhat resentful towards the idea of marriage? (to be honest, I once envisioned my old life would be spent alone in a mansion full of duck plushies)

Why are we getting shot a lot lately?

In order to understand that, we have to go way back to my childhood. I started reading books at a very young age. As long as I remember, I have maintained the same reading capacity now since I first picked up the alphabets when I was four.

I remember my kindergarten teacher expelling me (in a soft-spoken manner) out to the Primary School library (it was a big protestant-founded school) because in my annoyance that everyone my age was still learning the alphabet when I could already read, I became a noisy ruckus in class.

It was easy to see how I got rapidly acquainted with a lot of new ideas and started to see everything in a new light. By the time I was a teenage, I started to scrutinize the dynamics of my own family. Now, don’t get me wrong, my resentment towards the idea of marriage has no root in a broken home environment either.

My family, in my opinion, was a relatively ideal one. My father and mother were always there for me, bringing me books, teaching me stuffs, introducing me to video games (my mom completed the NES Bomberman using her foot to press the joystick), sparking my curiosity for the universe and the outer space, in short I had a very happy childhood. This played a crucial role in shaping my own opinion in my adolescence that my parents could do no wrong.

It was when I just entered my teens that I could clearly see that my parents, much like everyone else, make mistakes. And it suddenly came to me that I could have been raised very differently had they screwed up more in the past. I realized at a rather young age that managing a family comes with no manual and that a large portion of it consists of impromptu decision making.

And it scared me even in my sleep, because I never thought I was a capable person. What if I had kids and I screwed up? How to not screw up? I’ve seen my parents getting frustrated with financial problems, getting involved in legal suits, I came to realize that there are just too many unpredictable factors to threaten a family. It grew worse once I picked up my dad’s books on politics—my once colorful vision became monochromatic.

I became very acute at spotting the error of my parents in their ways of bringing me and my brother up. I remember never skipping a day without thinking about it, without deep down criticizing them. It took me a while and a big hurdle to realize that such excessive fear of failure can become a self-fulfilled prophecy.

As time passes by, I started to shift the focus of my criticism mostly on myself instead of my parents. After all, they have to play a ‘game’ without a tutorial level, errors are to be expected. Sooner or later, I would have to play my own ‘game’ of life

Instead of blaming them for who I have become, I start to evaluate myself for some bad habits rooted in the culture of my family (such as my poor financial management and excessive procrastination).

At this point, the dynamics in my family has become much more fluid and balanced, with everyone free to voice their opinion and criticize one another. I am quite vocal in my family to voice what I think is done wrong by my parents, and they too never hesitate a bit in scolding me for any poor management on my behalf. I slowly but surely strip away the deep rooted fear regarding my own incompetence.

Eventually, settling down only becomes a matter of meeting the right person.

And then I met her

I think it is very important to arrive at a sort of self-discovery before committing to the idea of settling down. Most people in my culture seem to be too eager to the level of being obsessed to start a new family without even questioning whether they are going to be a good husband, or wife, or parents.

Looking back now, I am relieved that I have to take such a detour before considering myself to be ready in near future (a solid life philosophy and the newly acquired professional skills I’ve picked up along the way also greatly help).

All in all, either trying to adjust to yours or starting a new one, there is always problems to tackle when it comes to family. And it might take forever to solve, you might even have to inherit to your offspring, but in its every moment, it always is a rewarding experience.

My Family

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JC

Metaforma Improvi

Upon mastering all experiments on type, form, flow, technique, nuance, theme, and language, a poet becomes none other than a tamer of words, and his poem but a mere collection of domestic beasts–providing circus attractions where instructed by the poet’s Will.

But a true craft is born neither by domination nor by apprehension; It is never defined by limitation. Rather, it assumes its ideal form in a spontaneous reaction against its own lack of majestic definition.

Thus, a poet best performs only in the wilderness, where beasts bare their vicious fangs and threatens with murderous claws. Only in the deadly unknown shall a masterpiece be crafted–where Will, helpless without command, can only strive to persist its existence and gasp desperately for the morrow.

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JC

Room to Grow

If there is a single aspect from myself worth bragging, well . . . apart from being repeatedly mistaken as gay (how do I manage to get a girlfriend again?), it would be my English proficiency, which ironically is far better than my command over the Indonesian language (No, I’m dead serious; I suck hard when it comes to writing in Indonesian—every piece I’ve ever attempted so far are like excerpts torn from parking tickets).

With such proficiency, my day-to-day task often revolves around writing, translating or reviewing documents for grammatical errors, in which I recently realized that I’ve become my own worst editor.

This blog serves a good example. I find myself coming back again and again to a content for revision even when it is already published (don’t be surprised if a sentence you’re reading on this blog suddenly deletes itself). Sometimes my times spent on revision exceeds the time spent actually writing something.

And because of that a question came to my mind: “can you ever be too critical of your own performance?”

By working, I really mean this

Now, while spotting your own mistake before anyone else can prevent a future disaster, it is important to know what to improve before going straight for a revision that can potentially ruin what’s already well established.

But how to be sure whether an aspect of our work is already well established? After all, it is very difficult to be objective of our own work.

As an example, I may think that sophisticated words nourish my content with elements that may better appeal to those with delicately mature taste; so does elaborated albeit long winding explanation, that comes, in not one, but so very many, numerous, frikkin, commas. My readers on the other hand might find them repulsive, distracting, discouraging to even follow through.

This bias, this preconception of our own product makes it impossible for objective assessment on our part. And at times when it does seem possible, it often leads to an over-correction that only replaces a problem with a completely different one instead of solving it.

Also, even though we can always take our time off the pen and let the thoughts sip for a moment, that won’t completely disregard our bias. After all, this bias is also the center of excellence that conducts the production–we shouldn’t resent it entirely.

The only option left for improvement then is to put aside our ego and let the assessment be performed by a third-party.

But third-party evaluation generally sucks, and more than often it feels like “How can this mediocre mind even comprehend my genius? He should be honored to even get the chance to read this masterpiece. Oh look, he is not even laughing at the line where I put my amazingly crafted joke—THAT VERY AWESOME JOKE!! HOW DARE HE *&(%%$^&$#$@#^&*(??!!”

However, no matter how annoying it may feel, the cold hard truth is that it is our best bet. It is okay not to take the advice on what to buy as a hobby—duck plushies or RC cars, how to properly take a shower—sing or no sing, or what to read during pooping time—shampoo bottle or The Economist. But when it comes to producing something for others’ consumption (be it writing, crafting, anything), feedback is a crucial element of consideration.

What? You still need us to tell you that this sucks??

Now to reconsider the question “can you ever be too critical of your own performance?” The answer depends. But in the end, after putting our best effort at the producing, improvement means leaving the evaluation to anyone else but ourselves. Peers sometimes notice flaws better than you—customers, often.

At least the HR department hasn’t filed any complaint on me being a bad boyfriend

Anti Alba

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

A mere intermission

Reconverge to singular

The sunrise shall part us once

The second be a dawn that last

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JC

The View from Our Windows

It is December already. It’s been raining a lot recently where I live, and the window these days presents view-after-view of drizzles, droplets, occasional lightning flashes, and folks running right and left for cover.

In all the times I spend by the window typing articles, working on translation projects, and browsing for porn or scrolling down 9gag writing my thesis, I find it odd how the view from the window seems to transmit varying mood. I swear the view was depressing yesterday—somber, sad, and kinda made me want to cuddle with my duck plushies collection all day.

Not that I possess such sort of collection obviously, that’s just a . . . err . . Metaphor.

Haha . . . ha . . . They are Selvi’s  . . . Obviously . . . Right?   No, that’s not my room. Shut up!

Yet today, upon gazing at the same thunderous glooms of the graying image through the glass, I am feeling this emanating upheaval of spirit—the sort normally accompanying the storm of inspiration which initiates my writing.

What a phenomenon–a festive mood of cheer today, a haunting restlessness tomorrow. While this alternating impression seems nothing less than a magic (remember the time you look through the window and feel like you are in a video clip of a gloomy song? Magic), it is a mere illusion—the view may stay static, but to the spectating end the only thing constant is change.

And within this delicate process of change, underneath the ever-morphing flux, we apply selective criteria to capture only details of the view that associate best with our emotions. It doesn’t matter if grey dominates, a single spot of white would be the only thing noticeable during times when joy thrives.

For anyone wondering, we supply our own photo and image. This one is taken by Selvi.

And just like the projection of our image mirrored by the glass (if not, it obviously needs a scrub), our window doesn’t only reveal the outside. If the presented picture seems so distant and cold, we may have dwelt too long in solitude. If the gust outside appears so vicious and cruel, we may have relied too much on suspicion and distrust. And if each moment of the window-theatrics is a fleeting race we can barely capture, we may have forsaken much for the sake of routine to even appreciate.

At the end of the day, through every view, we are only getting lost deep in our own thoughts. And it’s not really independent of control. We have all the options to be positive and sweet when we sit together with our lover looking at the rain from inside the cafeteria window or being creatively engaged by the sound of droplets while typing down that document for a client. We choose the mind we live and work with, regardless of the weather, regardless of the environment. Optimism is always beyond being predetermined.

Then again, if you only enjoy staring into hard platform of wooden or concrete surface, you are totally missing out on the chance to be a hopeless romantic.

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JC

The Entrepreneurship of Self

Okay, let’s be honest, this is the first time I’ve ever used the word “Entrepreneurship” or even “entrepreneur” for that matter. I think this is among the most overused words in the pages of social media. That being said, my using of the word has its own risk of falling into the crater of pretentiouship (is there even such word?) But by all means, let me justify myself.

While business can come in concrete forms–restaurant, cafe, game center, shop, you name it; the advent of social media has enriched the possibility of the forms business can embody theseadays. Now, I am not a person who is successful in establishing business of such forms. I am more the kind who dearly wishes I can work freely in space and time of my choosing–a true freelancer at heart.

Speaking of freelancer, it is perhaps the only title anyone can bring up without giving out any clear notion of what economic tools or means of productions are at their disposals–or putting it simply, folks who call themselves freelancers rarely seem to have any job at all.

You see, there are two types of Freelancers in general. The first type are those who answer to endless waves of jobs (not to say “overwhelm themselves with jobs”); the second type meanwhile are those who have been the first type for a loooooong time before screaming “enough!!! I want to have a life! I need a date! I want to be fit! OMG, I need to get my hair cut!!”

The crucial difference between the two lies in the realization of how crucial the allocation of time is. I believe that time spent not doing anything is a waste of time. That does not mean that all have to be allocated for work, though. I proceed with a belief that it is this balance between personal life and professional life that truly defines a person. All work and no play makes Jeremy a dull boy. All play and no work on the other hand makes Jeremy a homeless.

“But Jeremy, what does this have to do with entrepreneurship? You pretentious hipster!”

Well, you see, to delve in the optimal point between work and life is no easy task. It is a comfort zone that takes hard work to arrive at. And this hard work is parallel with a manufacturing process that takes your SELF as the raw material to produce a much improved version of yourself–let us call it Jeremy 2.0 Beta (put your name over here, Jeremy, Santos, Grace, Sasha grey, whatever).

This manufacturing process requires you to be an architect of your own means of production, which are time and space above all else. Freelancer perhaps is the one with the most versatility and room to experiment with them. To work in the space and time of your choosing is indeed a luxury, but to comfort and make you feel like a king of your own trade is not the sole purpose here, the most important thing about it is its impact on your product.

Whoever you are: content-writer, proofreader, designer, or translator like me, allowing yourself to work in time and space of your choosing is conditioning your mind to work with the best setup. By contrast, Imagine working in a crowded space with an empty stomach or with sleepy eyes at 12am at night chased by deadline. Having a luxury to choose space and time of work can translate directly to the improvement of the quality of your products as freelancer.

This is how Freelancer might look like at your local cafe

But the scheduling of proper time and selection of space is not everything. We often forget that what makes a good career out of each of us is, well, our body. Take a good look at the mirror and ask: mirror . . mirror on the wall . . who is the fairest mofo of this land and ask yourself if you have been taking a good care of yourself lately.

You see, when I persuade people to go to the gym, their formal response is “I am soooo super busy right now” (read that in Ted Mosby’s voice). Those people work full-time and hope that they will make free time for their health somewhere down the road, which often is true in the end (mostly after their doctors diagnose them with illness rooted to excessive stress and lack of physical activity).

The thing is, nobody ever has enough time for everything, you make the time for it. And that is why becoming an architect of your own working space and schedule complements this physical factor so much more.

Now, you can add tertiary factors like lifestyle or recreation to the equation. But make sure you only add recreational activities that are important to you, that can support the productivity of your mind in one way or another. List them in questions like “Can I live without  . . . ?” to identify which ones are important and which ones do not deserve that much priority. Here are some example:

-Can you live without seeing the new Star Wars movie? Neither can I!

-Can you work without getting annoyed by all your friends posts on instagram or memes on 9gag spoiling the Star Wars movie plot? Neither can I!

Selvi: I am your Vader

The bottom line of all this jabber-jabber is that taking into account every aspect of your own being that is related with productivity and making improvements and adjustments wherever possible will not only amplify the quality of your products (be it translation, editing, writing, etc); but will also keep you motivated, productive, happy, and fit for the long run. If building up to a product of self so optimized in those aspects cannot be classified as “entrepreneurship,” I honestly don’t know what can.

Of course for me, this all holds up until my mother tells me I need to get a real job I get to shift to a career with an outlined job description and preset schedule, which, to be honest, I doubt I will ever do.

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 JC

November’s Highlight

This month’s highlight went unplanned (one of those random encounter). But it was still as fun as hell.

Here are our gang: Enda, Esthir, Jeremy (me), Selvi (my cuddly, curly adorable little girlfriend, the other counterpart of this blog’s writer), and Dita.

We are graced by the presence of Jojo!!! A very cute little poodle brought to the premise by Dita. He is so adorable, playful, yet calm dog. We took the risk of bringing him into Coffee no. 27–this cafe where me and Selvi are regulars. Thankfully the baristas let Jojo in XD.

Isn’t he adorable?

We spent the night laughing, playing with Jojo, and taking a handful of photos and videos.

Everybody wants a piece of Jojo!!

Thank you for the highlight everyone. And thank you for Coffee no. 27 😀 (oh by the way, it is a really pleasant place to chill if you are around the vicinity).

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JC & SA

 

 

Edging the Central

The most important lessons of our lives are often found in places we never expect. For me, they revolve around the topic of time. The catch is that, with time, we do not have the full control over the “when” of spending it. The moment we are sitting around not doing anything is the moment we waste it. The clock never hesitates, the countdown never ceases. This practically makes time the most unrenewable resource of all. And while it is crucial to learn how to spend it, another delicate practical concern of equal importance for me is with whom we spend it.

We all have the highlights of our weeks, or months, years. You know, those time we spend laughing half-drunk with our closest friends, or those small birthday parties with our loved ones, those moments we genuinely enjoy that are forever etched in our memory. Of course, I am not here to exclude the possibility that some people out there find their highlights in seclusion, though I have to admit that I come with an assumption that such cases are rare; that one of the most important foundation of highlights is company. However, beyond that, it takes a great deal of expertise to end up with the company of our selection.

Just how many times have we got stuck with work when our friends are hanging out? Quite recently, I missed my girlfriend’s band show because it coincided with a drama-performance in which I was a committee member. I have to admit, despite how amazing the drama performance was, despite the applause it garnered at the curtains-close, I’d rather have spent the evening attending my girlfriend’s show. Reflecting on that event, I realized that my error often lies in my submissive tendency towards work. I accept project here and there without realizing that only very few precious moments truly mean something and leave marks in my life—the highlights.

This leads to a realization that I have been living my life without a clear guideline on the process. Clearly, most of us (including me) already have goals set in our minds—the days we wish to arrive at and savor, a finish line to earn through all that hard works. But only so few of us know how to wisely live every other day outside of it. If highlight is so important to my life, if that is the central, how exactly do I edge its peripheral? This obviously is still a personal reflection in need of an answer. But it opens up the senses that while highlights have been sort of random encounters in most of our lives, it is really up to us to arrange the timetable–to say no to appointment with people who are not really up there in our social circle, to make sure that we sit on a dinner table of our choosing, to cheer in a party we really belong, to get drunk together with the right folks, or to end up in a seat of a performance we truly wish to see.

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 JC