Saturday, June 13, 2009

Another Loss

Few month ago I lost a brother to a cancer. Muhamad Zafrullah Riza. He lived in Makassar, a city we were born and grew up. I heard of his grave condition and flew there to see him. I had a chance to say goodbye, I attended his funeral. I stayed in his house a night after his death, I know hew would like that. It was a huge loss for me, and I was glad I was there with him until at the end.
Yesterday, I was on my way home from work when my brother called me with a sad news. My younger sister Dian Mayasari Riza unexpectedly passed away. It was an unbearably sad news to me. She was my little sister. She was just remarried and was happy with her new life. She left two lovely daughters. I remember her well now, how jovial she was. Loud and funny, though and sensitive. Life has not always be kind to her, but she persevere and always came out OK. I remember her to be the most affected by my father death. I remember her jokes and her love of noodles and beef balls from street vendor. I remember her fascination with her make-up and appearance. I remember my little sister and I miss her so, I hope I have been a good brother to you. Rest in Peace.

Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Being productive in between yawns

The hardest thing for me is to decide when to stop and go to bed. It seems trivial when all I can do is yawning. My old me, the one that doesn't seems to need much sleep has been bothered by the new me, the yawner before midnight. I have recruited the help of coffee pods and heavy teas, yawns persists. I tempted my self with great articles and applaudable music, the yawns pushed harder. I seems to stare through the two inches iMac, even though I am actually reading or writing, cleaning images, or selecting few photos out of thousands, given it is not that interesting. But I used to do all this with such easy of unblinking eyes and zero yawn. I am troubled by getting old.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

The Sense of Direction

I always pride my self for having such a good sense of directions. In life, generally speaking and geographically, not to count some moments of confusion after coming out from a subway station in an unfamiliar places. I picture my life in a long line of string(s) both end attached to nails on opposite walls. One end is attached to a single nail on the wall, on the other end it is loosely attached to one of many nails on the wall. Along the length of the string(s) hanging are object and markers, pictures and visions, songs and noise that often tighten, often loosen but always adding point of interest along the lines.