Kamis, 20 Januari 2011

homunculus

so i choose the absolute. and what is the absolute? it is i myself in my external validity. anything else of myself i never can choose as the absolute, what if i choose something else, i choose it as a finite thing and so do not choose it absolutely, but what, then is this self of mine? is it freedom?

 

consciousness of freedom consists in the fact that the individual comprehends himself as a person that he sees himself in his distinct existence as inherently universal, as capable of abstraction form and renunciation of everything particular, and therefore as inherently infinite. 

Selasa, 18 Januari 2011

tunggu, hingga waktuku datang padamu


Tanah airku tidak kulupakan
Kan terkenang selama hidupku
Biarpun saya pergi jauh
Tidak kan hilang dari kalbu
Tanahku yang kucintai
Engkau kuhargai

Walaupun banyak negri kujalani
Yang masyur permai dikata orang
Tetapi kampung dan rumahku
Di sanalah kurasa senang
Tanahku tak kulupakan
Engkau kubanggakan

Senin, 17 Januari 2011

A man is intrigued and challenged by a woman who is an interesting person in her own right, whose personality has enough depth to provide that essential ingredient for any successful relationship between men and women
--the masculine need for meaningful conquest. 

Minggu, 16 Januari 2011

a note

as for me, i have not been the unfortunate messenger of a thought stronger than i, nor its plaything, nor its victim, because that thought, if it has conquered me, has only conquered through me, and in the end has always been equal to me.

i have loved it and i have loved only it, and everything that happened i wanted to happen, and having had regard only for it, wherever it was or wherever i might have been, in absence, in sorrow, in the inevitability of dead things, in the necessity of living things, in the fatigue of work in the faces born of curiosity, in my false words, in my deceitful vows, in silence and in the night, i gave it all my strength and it gave me all its strength, so that this strength is too great, it is incapable of being ruined by anything, and condemns us, perhaps, to immeasurable unhappiness, but if that is so, i take this unhappiness on my self and i am immeasurably glad of it and to that thought i say eternally, "Come," and eternally it is there: "..."

Jumat, 14 Januari 2011

a game

don't wait. chase me.
thats why i ran.

Senin, 03 Januari 2011

which memory for which identity?

The sick of longing for being at “home”—homesickness, isn’t necessarily about home and neither is it exactly an illness, instead, it stems from our natural need of love, protection and security—a feelings and qualities usually associated with home, not literally just missing your house, but missing what’s normal, what is routine, the larger sense of social space, because those are the things that help us survive.

The common perception of home is where we belong, territorially, existentially and culturally, where our own community is, where our family and loved one reside, where we can identify our roots, and where we long to return to when we are elsewhere in the world.
In this sense, belonging is a notion filled with romantic images; it is a foundational. In the sense that it circumscribes feelings of “home ness” (as well as homesickness), it is also a significant determinant of identity, that elusive but still real psycho sociological state of being in relate with oneself under given external conditions. Most importantly, “home” and “belonging” are affectively a defined concept, the indicative “home is where we belong” really means, “home is where we feel we belong.”

People may find themselves living and breathing in their own home, their privileged community space, with people of “their own kind”, in more or less pronounced “ethnic purity”. But they may also find themselves elsewhere; in which case be-longing more often than not turns into a question of longing-to-be at home.

This fact of being on somewhere else far away from Nusantara, spending the most precious time of re-humanizing my self through the so-called “holiday” in this Baltic sea’s town side, reminds me to some partial scenes of mental condition from my rooted community that has produced images and memories, which often quite out of touch with contemporary realities of those authentic roots.

How could be a place you have never physically been to, but when you get there you just know this is where you belong? It is a place that your heart and your blood feel connected to.

I began to realize that people, despite of their nationalities, also may feel they have several belongings, several places and cultures they belong to and that determine their identity as multiple, nested, situational or fluid. The features of a culture that produce this sense of closeness and well-being are within its folkways, its sounds and smells of traffic congestions, its consumerism behavior and worship towards automobiles, its viciousness into space occupations, its corner of the town hall’s square, the innumerable subtle and ways of life we grow up with—it makes the cultural belonging is very important, perhaps because it is basically so very simple: we feel we belong to our culture, because it constitutes a home of natural embeddedness and unthinking attachment, “familiarity”—familiar surroundings, close knit localities, or the intimacy of personal relationships.