Berada di tengah-tengah musik, aku tak lagi merasa sendiri. Semuanya begitu hidup. Aku tergelak senang saat kamu menggamit lenganku untuk ikut berdansa dengan kerumunan. Tawamu menyenangkan; merdu seperti irama yang kini mengelilingiku.

Sepasang kekasih berbaju sama-sama merah melambaikan tangan mereka kepada kita. Sang perempuan mengajak kita untuk mendekat, sementara sang pria mengacungkan mikrofon di tangannya.

“Kamu mau nyanyi nih? Beneran? Serius?” aku menatap tidak percaya ketika kamu menyambar mikrofon tersebut dan naik ke atas panggung.

“Malam ini biar semua yang nggak mungkin jadi mungkin,” katamu, dan kamu mulai bernyanyi, lagu yang belum kukenal sebelumnya, namun langsung bisa membuatku jatuh cinta. Berulang kali. Dan terus begitu meski lagunya sudah usai.

Kamu turun dari panggung sambil mengelap keringat, disambut dengan riuhnya tepuk tangan orang di sekeliling kita. “Bagus,” ujarku. Kamu membuka sebotol air mineral untuk diteguk, tapi aku menepisnya dan langsung menciummu.

Botol minumanmu sampai jatuh. Aku tersenyum melihat keterkejutanmu setelahnya.

“Malam ini, yang nggak mungkin jadi mungkin, kan?” kataku.

Dan kita tahu, malam ini masih jauh dari kata usai.


Cinta Sejati

Saya seharusnya menulis setiap hari.

Menulis itu seperti kekasih saya yang telah lama terlupakan; setia menunggu di sebuah sudut bersarang laba-laba yang selalu saya lewati tapi saya abaikan. Semacam tahu keberadaannya tapi tidak diindahkan. Saya pikir, toh dia akan selalu beada di sana. Meskipun jarang ditengok, dia akan selalu ada. Nggak akan kemana-mana.

Menulis itu cantik. Dan dia selalu membuat saya nyaman. Mungkin tidak selalu memberi damai – sering sih, tapi tidak selalu – tapi nyaman, iya. Parasnya berubah sesuai apa yang saya rasa. Tapi dia tidak pernah buruk di mata saya.

Menulis kadang membuat saya menangis karena sedih, geli karena bahagia, atau malah sebaliknya: geli karena sedih, menangis karena bahagia. 

Menulis selalu ada, tidak pernah memaksa saya untuk menengoknya, namun ketika saya mendekat dia akan mengangkat kepalanya penuh sukacita dan tersenyum, manis sekali, sampai saya tidak mau beranjak dari sana. Tapi kadang saat saya tidak tahu lagi kata apa yang bisa saya sampaikan padanya, saya pergi, meskipun sering lama saya pandangi dirinya dengan rasa hangat yang kuat dalam hati.

Menulis akan selalu ada untuk saya. Dia akan selalu cantik dan indah. Dan saya akan selamanya 


Saya ingin selalu bersamanya, jika saja kenyataan hidup tidak terlanjur menawan saya dalam selnya.

Menulis, sampai kapan pun, adalah cinta sejati saya.

Ruby Sparks (2012)

Often we have this image on our heads about the perfect person we want to be with. Me, for example, would love to have a significant other who is into movies as much as I am, has a great sense of humor, who is protective, caring, kind, and also plays music. Sounds too much to ask, indeed. Nobody’s perfect. And even if we find that one person who seems to fit into our entire criteria, there is no guarantee that they will have the same feeling in mind. It happens – it’s real life. And so we move on.

But what if we can will that person into existence?

In Ruby Sparks (2012), the often underrated but actually fanciful Paul Dano plays Calvin, a twenty-something writer who is facing a gigantic writer’s block for his second novel after previously thriving with his first. People dub him the ‘genius’, the term that he grew uncomfortable with as the time passes because he doesn’t feel like he’s living up to the hype. A sentiment that, to be honest, shared by yours truly. His days feel empty and meaningless without so much as a drop of inspiration, and while his agent keeps rushing him to create another masterpiece, Calvin found it impossible to even craft a sentence. Until his therapist asked him to write something about his dog, Scotty – an adorable but quite pathetic creature that to me mirrors his owner himself. The dog proves to provide a gateway into something, or rather someone, who changes his life forever.

When he started writing about a girl named Ruby Sparks and giving her a detailed backstory, Calvin once again found his writing passion. He began endlessly writes and dreams and writes about her – this one person that is just the perfect girl for him. Understandable, because who in the world hasn’t made their writing works as a means of escape from reality? But then Ruby comes to life. She just magically appears one day in Calvin’s house, completely herself the way he has ever imagined him to be. And the best thing is – she already is his girlfriend.

After some period of maniacal panic and convincing himself that Ruby is indeed not a figment of his imaginations through some hilarious means of proving, Calvin accepted the awesome occurrence like anyone would embrace someone who is everything they have ever dreamed about. He was head over heels, and for some time, his life is perfect.

Then their relationship started to get more real. Ruby started to act more like a normal person, with wants and needs that Calvin couldn’t control. But Calvin knew that he holds power over of their relationship, literally. When something just isn’t the way he likes it to be, he simply writes Ruby the way he wants her to be. He scrambled to maintain perfection again, up into the point of desperation, until eventually he realized that some things are just not meant to be. Only then did he let Ruby go be herself; no longer a character on his story, no longer someone he wrote and dreamed up about, but a person by herself.

Watching Ruby Sparks does make one wonder about her own image of perfection. About endless what ifs and whys. It is not that deep of a movie, but it’s the simplicity that really hits home. How frequent are we hoping that this person we have been yearning for can walk into our lives in the flesh and make our dreams come true? When it happens… you won’t be questioning yourself. You will be just like Calvin who says “I don’t need to make sense of this. I don’t care if there’s no good explanation.” You won’t be needing justification for the things that make you happy.

But then, have you ever actually thought how would the end turn out? Would the happiness last? When my Ruby starting to be a person and not merely my own creation, can I accept it?

Happiness isn’t defined by how you picture it to be. Happiness is embracing the reality and making the most of it. After Ruby left, Calvin gets on with his life, publishes his next book that is entirely based on his experience with Ruby. That’s making do with life and making your own happiness. But in the end, the film still offers the romantic minds with the probably most-desired finale, by reuniting Calvin with Ruby once again in a different circumstance. A choice I actually not too fond of despite being a sucker for happy endings – because sometimes it is necessary for me to look at things more realistically. I would have preferred Calvin to perhaps find somebody new and build his life afresh – because that would be a more realistic notion I’d give myself.

Nevertheless, Ruby Sparks was executed in the right portion and taste without having to give too much icing on the cake. I have always had a soft spot for Paul Dano since The Girl Next Door and favored his performance in Little Miss Sunshine, and though he might not be that brilliant here, he put up a convincing performance. As Ruby, Zoe might not differ too much from the typical Indie movie pixies with quirkiness in every direction, but she was likeable enough. Their great chemistry can also be contributed to the fact that Zoe and Paul are real life couples. All in all, Ruby Sparks is an enjoyable watch for lovers alike. As for the single ones, you might need to prepare for introspective moment of contemplation right after the credits roll.

Personal rating: 7.7/10

You’re A Time Machine

And suddenly I’m a thirteen year old girl again, squealing at a sight,

hoping for  a little chat, a little hello, a little smile.

And suddenly I’m a teenager, a fangirl, a daydreamer;

finding  myself lost in reverie, heart locked in preserved memory.

And suddenly I am not old anymore;

I am young, I am a newborn,

and life has just begun.

The grass is the gent

The grass is the gent

Billowing swiftly and handsomely

While the lady watches

And smiles at his ignorance.

The lady approaches

Because she was the wind

But the grass stays calm

Waiving her so nonchalant.

The lady tuns back

Because she wants more

The gent comprehends

But he says no.

So the lady watches still

But through the faraway distance

While the gent fumbles

And keeps saying he is content.

(inspired by e e cummings’ “The Wind is a Lady”)

Menyebrangi Lautan Jawa


Kembali dia mengintip dari balik teropong pada kegelapan yang tak berkesudahan.

“Daratan mana, katamu?”

Aku menghela nafas. “Tinggal lurus. Masa Kapten nggak lihat.”

Dia menyodorkan teropongnya padaku, seakan frustasi. “Aku bukan kapten kamu. Jangan panggil aku gitu. Dan, aku tetap nggak lihat apa-apa.”

Aku pun meraih teropong di tangannya, sengaja membiarkan jariku berlama-lama supaya bisa menyentuh kulitnya sebelum mencapai benda itu. Dia tahu aku sengaja, sepertinya. Aku tidak peduli.

“Aku nggak butuh teropong,” ujarku. “Aku tahu ada daratan di sana. Aku yakin aja.

Dia memicingkan mata, memperhatikanku, seperti yang biasa dia lakukan. Seperti yang aku suka dia lakukan.

“Kalau begitu, mungkin kamu harus ke sana tanpa aku,”

Perkataannya sebenarnya tidak terlalu mengejutkan. Aku sudah tahu pasti nantinya itu yang dia katakan ketika pertama kali aku mengajaknya berlayar melintasi Laut Jawa bersamaku. Dulu, ketika dia mengiyakan, aku bisa merasakan keraguan di matanya. Tapi waktu itu kufikir tidak ada salahnya mencoba.

“Jadi…” aku mengalihkan pandanganku supaya dia sadar kalau aku gusar – meski pun itu tidak akan mengubah apa-apa juga. “Kamu hanya akan pindah ke perahu lain, begitu?”

Dia malah nyengir. Cengiran nakal, khasnya.

“Aku cuma yakin kamu akan sampai di tujuan tidak denganku, sekuat keyakinan kamu bahwa ada daratan di seberang sana ketika kamu bersamaku.”

Aku terdiam.

Dan ketika aku menoleh lagi, dia sudah tidak ada di sana.

Langit Biru

Langit was a boy, beautiful boy, whose eyes as sharp as pieces of shattered glass, whose smile as rare as snow in a droughtland. Langit means sky, Biru means blue; in his name I found two of my favorite things, and in his soul I found love.

Langit was a boy, whom I love, whom I despise, whom I could never understand,

Langit said he wished to be born as the sea instead of the sky. Laut, not langit.

“But I like sky more,” I said. “The blue calms me down. And there’s the stars.”

“I’m sick of the sky,” Langit said. “It is never going anywhere.”

I was too afraid to ask, “So you’re leaving?” because in the silence I could taste the word yes.

Langit means sky, my sky, and on that day I learned that it was falling.

Langit was on the beach. I knew that it was the end, because he was smiling, smiling at the sea.

“This is me,”

Then langit became one with the ocean, until the blue no longer has limit, until the sky was sunk by its counterpart, until Langit’s stares and touches that never been, disappeared, consumed, swallowed by the endless depths. But he was smiling nonetheless.

Langit was the name. The name that remains. The name that stays. That never gone.

110212 | because I miss the beach and you.