Retrospect

The year 2010 will soon end. Trapped in a quiet dark winter night, I was carried into a retrospect journey to the whole year. A crazy journey through thick and thin. It was a year of joy and a year of sorrow as well. There are things that I lost, but I gained things as well.

The first day of 2010 would never be forgotten in my whole life. The first day of the year, and I lost something that I doubt can ever be regained. It was the day when my dignity was stripped away by someone that was supposed to be very close to me. A person I am supposed to go when the whole world is against me. But this particular person even be the first one to deliver a death blow to me, degrading me in front of other people. That day, I really wished that God would just take my life in an instant, sparing me from the public humiliation.

However, during that darkest month (yes, it lasted for the whole January) I found precious friends. They walked along with me, helped me to regain my stand, and rejuvenated my power. Even better, they were still there when I could not even look at myself. They accepted me the way I am, even after all the humiliation in which turn some people against me.

The next loss was a dear friend. This was not related to the first tragedy. Heck, he even said, "I know you're strong enough, but in case you need to talk, I'll be there!" He was such a nice friend. It's too bad that through some accident, his wife asked him to back off from his friends.

I got rejected twice by the scholarship in NUS and Erasmus Mundus. With all the pressures all around from my family, I almost gave up finding the scholarship. But all of a sudden, I received the mail from Cambridge University. They gave me conditional offer of acceptance. Never really thought that Cambridge would give me that. I guess, my friends really helped me a lot. They realized that I need to get away from that environment, so some of them prayed really hard for me to get any kind of scholarship that I applied.

The journey for the scholarship was long and full of unpredicted obstacles. Thank God I got that. I had to prepare everything. Resigning from my current job and preparing farewell for everybody.

Voila, this is my third month in Cambridge already. Got a nice life here, new environment, new friends, even new family. Hope 2011 offers something better.

Oxford #4 : DUUUUUUUUUUUCKS!

Friday, 17/12/2010

The fourth day in Oxford was signified by the plan to visit Botanical Garden. My friend said that it was a nice place to contemplate and be in silence. Sounded like a good idea, eh?

Big mistake! The weather was freezing. It was minus two, and I left my hat in Cambridge. My whole body was warm, but my ears froze. Thankfully Botanical Garden was located in the other end of the town, so the walk there warmed me a little bit.

Right across the garden was Magdalen College. The door was opened. Yay! I peeked through it and found the board written “The college is open from 1 pm till dusk”. Darn! It was still 10.30. I'd better go to the garden.

The gate of the garden was nice, quite old and 'rusty' in a good sense. The garden itself was nice – if you visited during the springtime or summer. Almost nothing to see, except for the nice fountain in the middle of the garden. It was too bad that I did not have the DSLR camera. The fountain square was nice, even during the winter. The benches all around it were providing romantic nuance. Springtime, flowers, benches, fountain, and a lover. Would be very nice! Ah, stop dreaming.

After spending quite some times around the park, I sat on the bench and opened the map. Trying to plan the next destination. All of a sudden, two ducks were standing near my feet. If I could scream, I would scream at that second. One of them was the green headed duck, the one that I feared the most. I know this might seem ridiculous, but I was afraid of ducks. They are disgusting and scary, let alone goose. Slowly I stood up and moved to different bench. As I put myself down, those two ducks started moving to my direction.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Can you choose different person to stalk? I HATE DUCK, I HATE DUCK, I HATE DUCK!!!!!!!!!!!

Quickly I ran to the third bench. However, I observed their movement before I allowed myself to sit. They went to different direction. Fiuhhh! Next place was set, New College.

On my way to New College, I found a nice shop for pen and leatherbound journal. They sold nice quill pens. An exquisite piece of art and penmanship. I was enticed by them, but I could not allow myself to spend another 20 pounds. So, mental note was made. Have to come back to Oxford before coming back home. Buy at least one quill pen for beloved grandfather!

Finding New College was not a hard task at that time. I just needed to follow Longwalk Street and turned to Hollywell Street. Crap! The college was closed and will be opened at 2 pm. It was still 11.30. Having no more plan, I strayed around and found Harris and Manchester college. They had a nice chapel and garden, but it seemed that they were not even opened for visitors. So, another camera through the bar trick was played.

Next plan was finding Campion Hall and Pembroke College. It was easy. Those two were located in front of Christ Church. Pembroke was not interesting (or had I lost my interest in exploring Oxford colleges already?). Campion Hall was pretty tight. Remembering the suggestion of the lady in the church the previous day, I intended to just ring the bell. But what should I say to them? That I share the same namesake? That I came from a Jesuit university? Peeking through the glass door, I saw a similar arrangement to the novitiate in my hometown. Well, I did not go,

Considering the next destination was quite easy, as Museum of Oxford was pretty close. It was quite nice museum to learn about Oxford, from the Anglo Saxon era to the golden age of the university. The next floor exhibited the reformation era until the present one. A nice place indeed to study and to protect me from the snow shower. Hehehehe!

As the covered market was near, I went there and found it similar to Beringharjo Market back home. Not really interesting. The clock showed 14.15. I had two choices, coming back to Magdalen and New College or having lunch. Well, since I lost my interest in the colleges already (maybe next time), I headed to Cornmarket Street to grab something to eat.

The fourth day tour was finished. But that night was the chance to enjoy the Oxford nightlife. Jolly Farmers or Castle Taverns, eh?

Oxford #3: The Namesake

Thursday, 16/12/2010

Ah, I could not believe that I had been in Oxford for three days. Well, with most of the colleges were closed, the planned trip became more and more limited. As I set my foot off the house, I realized that the north western part of Oxford had not been explored yet, save for Green Templeton, where I had my lunch during the first day.

The first check in was Worcester College. Again, it was closed. I seriously thought that Christmas Break was not a perfect time for tour de college in Oxford. Having no other choices, I could only get two shots from the front. Well, it was better than nothing, wasn't it? I headed towards the direction of Ashmolean Museum. Right across Ashmolean was St. John College. A pretty big one, yet even all the gates were locked. Worse thing, the college was located near the big road. So, even my front shot was disturbed by parking and passing cars.

Following the Woodstock Road, I took a shot of The Eagle and The Child. Well, at least I wanted to have a memorial of that legendary pub. I was a big fan of Narnia and Lord of The Rings as well.

After that pub, I was tempted to enter St. Aloysius church. It was one of the surviving catholic church in Oxford. Well, the first reason was the three wishes that I told earlier in the previous post. BAM! I entered when they were still reciting rosary prayer. No other choice, I had to sit and join the prayer. Thankfully I still remember Hail Mary. Hehehe!

Right after the prayer was finished, I looked around and found a nice shrine for Mary, Our Lady of Oxford. There was also a place to kneel down. Without any hesitation, I grabbed a candle, lit it, put in on the chandelier, and started praying. Sounds crazy, eh? I am. Next to the Mary shrine, which was full of precious relics, I found a shrine dedicated to St. Philip Neri. Turned out he was the patron saint for the order of the parish. The main altar itself was decorated with many statues of the saints.

As I proceeded to the exit, the painting on the wall struck me. It was about St. Edmund Campion. He was once a fellow of St. John College, Oxford, but was hung till death for his faith. In short, he was pretty precious for Oxford people. The thing is, I sort of having a connection with him. When I received my sacrament of confirmation, I took his name as my patron saint, together with St. Chrysogonus. As I got the college of St. Edmund in Cambridge, I felt that it was also a divine intervention. The more impressive thing was the fact that most people used to mock me over my choice.

They knew nothing about this saint, and it was weird to put Campion on the name. “Why don't you just take Edmund instead of Edmund Campion?” But I insisted on choosing this specific Edmund Campion. The fact that I ended up in St. Edmund's College in Brittain was not a random thing for me.

In the exit door, I talked with a lady there about St. Edmund Campion and the status of the parish. I saw IHS as the emblem in the second shrine, and I thought that the church belonged to Jesuit. But it was not. It used to be, but not now. She wondered, how could I know about Edmund Campion and Jesuit? When I told her that I took his name and used to work in Jesuit university back home (added with the fact that I almost entered Jesuit novitiate), she immediately told me to go visit Campion Hall. Apparently, it was the only Jesuit college / hall in Oxford and dedicated completely to St. Edmund Campion. At that second, I knew that I was not far from home. My journey and study in UK had been laid down for me since long time ago. More about this later, guys.

Finishing my visit to the church, I decided to go to Museum of Natural History. The museum road was the shortest way to go, but my old syndrome came back again. Direction disorientation! So, I ended up walking down the Broad Street. To my surprise, Trinity college was opened! Without having any second thought, I directed myself to that place. In the porter's place, I secretly prayed that he would allow me to enter freely when finding out that I was a Cambridge student. “One pound please!” Duh! Bye bye my lovely coin!!!!!

Trinity was okay. The explored area was certainly bigger than Balliol, but something just did not carry the sense of antiquity. It felt cold. Even the chapel was very dark and not welcoming. But there was an interesting part, the back one. The one with student laundry and library. At least that part seemed alive and warm.

In the end of Broad Street, I turned left to Parks Road, wanting to reach the museum. On my right hand side, I found another closed college. Well, sneaking a little bit to get two shots, I found the name interesting. Wadham college. Instantly, my brain went into Indonesian mode. It means transsexual in Indonesia, so I laughed spontaneously.

Well, after a long walk, I finally reached the Museum of Natural History. The exhibition was nice. At least I could finally see some dinosaur bones (yeah, I don't need to go to Smithsonian!!). But the silly side of me took place and the statues of prominent scholars around the arcade were far more interesting. Duh! At least I got my interest back when visiting Pitt River museum, just in the back of Museum of Natural History.

Pitt River hosted various idols all around the world. Quite nice to see how the statue of Virgin Mary was put side by side with Guan Yin. Both with the same pose, carrying a baby. I love that idea! But the shrunken heads were pretty creepy. They reminded me of jenglot, Indonesian traditional ghoul which haunted me during my childhood.

In the upper floor, Pitt River hosted an exhibition of weapon. There were various weapons all around the world. Being a fan of J-RPG with various weapon, I was excited for finally seeing the real claymore and rapier. More than that, they even had Bagh Nakh and Katar. Those were the weapons seen only in the game, but was presented right in front of my eyes.

The museums were done. Next thing on my list was going to New College to see the Old Wall of Oxford. Again, I passed Queen's College (which was still closed. Shame!) and tried to find St. Edmund Hall on my way. Found it, but closed. I could only stole some shots of the chapel and the graveyard through the bars. Trying to follow the Queen's Lane, I got lost again and could not find New College. So I decided to head down Longwall Street and ended up in Magdalen College.

Strange thing happened. As I passed the college, I sniffed familiar scents. Incense and menyan. All of a sudden, I got goosebump. Those were smells of creepy atmosphere back home. Why did I had it there? Quickly I hastened my walk and ended up in Blackwell bookstore (had a quick stop to take picture of imitated Bridge of Sigh. The original Cambridge counterpart was way more beautiful).

Blackwell did ruin up my financial planning. I headed towards the Norrington room, the one having three miles of bookshelves and found MAAAANNNYY interesting books. Damn! Books are really my drugs! They are addictive!!!!

So, I ended up my day tour with several philosophers and lunch in McDonald. Done for the third day.

Oxford #2: The All Souls Tragedy

Wednesday, 15/12/2010

This was my second day in Oxford. Even though I was endowed with the bicycle to assist the exploration, I felt that relying on my feet was better, since I could enjoy every scene without having to find a place to park the bike. Thus, equipped with my thick winter jacket, scarf, and gloves, I set my way unto the gloomy and foggy city.

As I was in Oxford, I did not want to miss any college. If I could, I would set my foot on all the colleges. Well, something quite impossible, especially without the Oxford University card. Quite fortunate, my friend's flat was located near Nuffeld College. In under than five minutes, I reached the LOCKED gate. Darn! Taking my chance, I put my camera behind the bar and started taking pictures that I could get. Just two shots and I decided to got around the college, hoping to find a door to enter. Bum! Nothing......

Luckily, near that college lied Oxford Castle. Castle, huh? I would like to try it, entering one of the castle and saw what was inside, after my disappointment with Buckingham palace (which was very plain in its outer architecture). Visitor attraction would cost me two pounds. Huh? I did not want to pay to explore the hill. In fact, the castle must be more interesting than that. But I was wrong. The castle was nothing other than food court. What?

Not wanting to waste more time there, I started walking again, trying to find other fun colleges. Heading without any clear direction, I stumbled upon Christ Church. It was the biggest and most famous college in Oxford, for the first two Harry Potter movies were shot there. Well, now I am willing to pay for this, I said to myself. At least, I only needed to pay around two pounds. But again, I was wrong! The concession rate for student was 4.50 pounds. Darn! My calculative mind was furious with that. Fortunately, my 'civilized' and 'cultured' side were being more dominant. (But still, four and a half pounds? Puh-lease!)

The main quadrangle in the college was pretty big. Unfortunately, with my status as a visitor, my exploration area was limited. I could not step my foot on the Hermes fountain in the middle of the quadrangle. Or perhaps, it was still grass for fellows only? I always questioned that concept. A little ridiculous. Quite nice, but with limited area, I felt confined.

The dinning hall, on the other hand, was very much IMPRESSIVE! No wonder it was used as the Hogwarts' dinning hall. The arrangement looked very exquisite and expensive. All the pictures of notable alumni were hanging on the wall, covering most of it. And it even had a real fireplace, not an electric one. I wish I had a friend from Christchurch who can take me into the formal hall there. Hehehehe!

Move on to the cathedral, the decoration and room division were sophisticated and elegant. The seating arrangement was similar to other chapels, the altar was very detailed in the carving of crucifixion. The mosaics depicting several saints were also there. St. John the Baptise, St. Caecilia (I'm sure that my mum would be very flattered knowing this), and some other saint which I could not decipher from the latin writing. I sat down and prayed (yeah, I prayed after such a long time) in the right hand side of the cathedral, the private chamber.

After finishing Christ Church, I saw several colleges. Most of them were closed for public. Darn. But learning from experience, I decided to sneak in, only to take some shots. And the first one was Oriel College, one of the oldest colleges in Oxford. Next victim was Corpus Christi. Only two shots for this relatively small college. But at least, I got the shot of the special sundial in the middle of the first quadrangle.

Merton and University College were both closed by the bar. I could only sneak my camera behind the bar and got limited view of the college. As I continued the tour, I saw a very big and nice college. The gate tower was very classic, but not as rigid and conventional as the other colleges. It was Queen's College. Quite big, and it would be unfair to compare it to Queen's College in Cambridge. But again, it was closed! Daaaaaaaaarn!!! Not even any opening in bar, thus I could not steal some shots.

Next to Queen's, I saw All Souls College. Yes, said I in mind. I had been wanting to enter this college. One of the oldest, classic. The gate was opened but there was the announcement that the college was closed. Remembering the suggestion from several people, I put my poker face. When nobody was around, I stepped confidently into the first quadrangle. To my surprise, the porter stopped me. I never thought that he recognized every face of college residents. As I said that I was looking for my friend, he asked me the name. Spontaneously, I mentioned any common western name. Yet again, he frowned and said that there was nobody with that name in the college. Damn! I had to get out of here. There was no way I would be arrested for trespassing. I said that I would call my friend outside and quickly ran to the nearby University Church.

After calming myself, I continued walking to Exeter College. It was a college inspiring Philip Pullman for Jordan College in His Dark Material trilogy. As a scholar of children's literature, there's no way for me to miss that. But again, it was closed! Shoot! That time, I decided not to sneak in. Did not want to repeat the All Souls tragedy.

I decided to continue the walk and cross Broad Street. There were Trinity College and Balliol College. Trinity was closed, so it was not an option. But Balliol was opened. I stepped on and went to the Porter's Lodge. The admission fee was cheap, only a pound for students. But when he found out I was a Cambridge student, he allowed me to enter for free.

Balliol was not that big. But it certainly lived up its name as the oldest college in Oxford. The wooden floor to the chapel was creaking. The chapel itself was quite nice and warm. The light entered nicely and created yellow nuance on the brownish chairs. The garden was also quite nice and big. It was too bad that I could not enter the hall. But hey, this was not Christ Church......

The colleges were done for that day. But since the sun was still shinning, I did not want to get back home early. So, I saw a unique building near Trinity and decided to go there. It was the Bodleian Library. The History of Science museum was there. Interestingly, this building was actually the Old Ashmolean. So, my tour on that day was ended by the visit to the museum and the Shelley Ghost exhibition. A special exhibition of Shelley's family's writing. Well, who does not know him? At least people would recognize his famous wife, Mary Shelley, the author of Frankenstein. But his poems were also equally beautiful. Ozymandias would be forever linger in my head.

The rest of the day was not very exciting. So, that was all for the second day in Oxford.

Oxford #1 : Green Templeton College

Tuesday, 14/12/10

I arrived in Oxford 20 minutes later than the expected schedule. Cold and hungry, as no breakfast touched my hand that morning. The cold breeze grasped every inches of my skin, though a thick layer of winter jacket was put over them. The fog was everywhere, giving this city a nuance of late 18th century. The buildings were old but big, unlike the old and small buildings in Cambridge. If Cambridge took me back to 15th - 16th century, Oxford and its crowd only took me two centuries backward. It was gloomy, I recalled what Jody said about The Oxford Murder.

The city was quite big. For a person coming from Cambridge, Oxford is comparable to London. More and more people were walking on the street. Following the direction from my friend, I went down the Hythe Bridge Street, crossing the Oxford Canal. The wind blew fiercer, penetrating every possible pore on my fabric. So, I tightened up my scarf and continued walking. 'Twas in five minutes that I reached the flat. I was in time for lunch.

As my friend was a member of Green Templeton College, she took me there to have lunch. Along the way, she showed the The Eagle and The Child, a famous pub where J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis gave birth to their masterpiece, The Lord of The Ring and The Chronicles of Narnia. A small and usual British pub. As we walked along the Woodstock Road, I saw St. Aloysius Catholic Church on my left hand side. I should pay a visit here, I thought. The thing is, my great grandaunt, who was a nun, told me that I am eligible to have three wishes everytime I visited a new church. And this time, I already knew what I have to ask.

We reached Green Templeton College in the end of the road. It happened to be a sister college to my Cambridge college. As mine was small yet cozy, I was not expecting a big college with several quadrangles. Well, at least my prejudice was true. Green Templeton was similar to St. Edmund, with an inside garden. In the centre of the garden, there was a nice tower hosting the dinning hall and Common Room. Interestingly, there were eight graving of Greek gods and goddesses on the top of the tower. I was told that they represented eight direction.

Entering the first room within the tower, the jade-coloured wall emanated warmth, contrary to the bluish sky of winter outside. The dinning hall itself was a small room. The tables were not arranged traditionally. Not something that you would expect out of common Oxbridge colleges. Even St. Ed still arranged the table traditionally (without the high table, of course). Further comparison with St. Ed came when I took the meal. There were only two meals! One meat and one vegetarian. Only one side dish, since the plate was quite small. I saw a pile of fried chicken, but my friend said that the pile was for salad. We went to the cashier and had to pay 4.80 for two persons! Yay! I loved that! Very cheaaaap! St. Ed, you have to go that way. Hehehe! It was just too bad that we had to pay in cash, even for the member of the college. How I miss card swiping in Eddies' dinning hall. :(

After finishing the lunch, we headed toward Common Room (as I typed this, I always wrote combination room first before common room. Cambridge had influenced me this far...). A nice one. The room was very cozy with couches everywhere. Pretty classy, I supposed. The ceiling was quite high, decorated with tall windows on the wall. You could see some part of Oxford since it was located on the second floor of the tower. With a sip of warm coffee, I lounged myself, accompanied by my friend and some other people she introduced me to. Again, the jade-coloured wall and thick curtain created a warm feeling inside. Later, I found out that the college atmosphere was actually pretty snob, since most of the residents were studying medical and business. Well, that might be the reason why their common room was executive-like. Ah, well, for once in a lifetime, let me be snobbish. ^_^

The tea break was done. It was time to explore the city on my own. Yet, as winter only allowed short exploration time, Ashmolean Museum was the only place I could go. But, that's a completely different story that I will not tell here. Not many people are into museum as I am.........

My Narnia

Watching the third instalment in Narnia franchise, The Voyage of Dawn Treader, my fingers were itched to write something. Well, this is the first movie ever that I watched in UK. It did not fulfil my expectation about how it should be. I don't know, whether it's related to the backing off of Disney from the franchise or the story factor that did not support the flashiness as the two previous prequels. It lacked of grandeur from the very first beginning.

However, I realized something that watching Narnia made me go into deep thought about myself. Lucy and Edmund always dream about Narnia, for the adventure and grandeur awaits them there. Whenever the real world sucks, they keep thinking about Narnia, and how that world would offer something different to them. Thus, when they enter Narnia, they completely become other people, showing their other qualities and sort of running away from their real world.

A lot of people must also dream about going to their own Narnia. And what about myself? Of course I wanted to have my own Narnia, a place where I can explore myself and be someone else. And in this matter, I think I am quite lucky. Going away from home and stepping my foot to Cambridge was the wardrobe to my own Narnia. The scholarship that I received acted as my dimensional ring to access “the pool in the magic wood”. In short, Cambridge and UK are my Narnia.

After setting my foot in Cambridge and live far from my comfort home, I started exploring myself. I live as myself, out of anybody's expectation. Out of people's expectation (since nobody know me here), out of my parents' expectation, and even living beyond my own expectation. I sort of tapped into a different personality within myself. Just as Pevensie siblings re-don their mantle as High King and Queens as they got into Narnia, I tapped into a hidden personality in me. Well, it's not a completely hidden one like Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde though.

Talking about this topic, I started remembering Brad Paisley's song, Find Yourself. It is said that we can really discover who we are when we are far from home, when we are in a new area, surrounded by complete strangers. That's when we found ourselves. So, my Narnia, I will explore you more as I will also explore the dark wood of myself. Beware and anticipate the coming of your king!

Dante's (Fairy Tales) Inferno

I finally tasted the adaptation of the famous Dante's Inferno. I was always amazed by the historical facts and how Dante wove them into nice tortures and torments (Gee, I might be crazy and psycho for saying this out loud). Divine Comedy is the book that made me spend lots of money only to copy it from the library.

When I found that EA Games decided to make a game adaptation of this classic, I was so hyped. 'Twas not until the release that I was disappointed. They chose PS3 and X360, which means I could not play it. I already gave up when I found the trailer of Dante's Inferno : An Animated Epic. Looking from the artwork, I knew that it is a cinematic alternation of the game. At least, Inferno came alive in an accessible media.

After spending some minutes of downloading the rip (yeah, thanks to the high speed internet!!), I began to watch it. The animation was crisp, bleak coloured, somber and grim. The first scene when Dante was wandering in a dark forest with the appearance of panther and wolf resonated with the first part of the composition. But it was an extended prologue of the original. Right after the dark wood, Dante found Beatrice lying with her last breath. Okay, this might be an introduction for people who are not familiar with the epoch. But something went wrong. As Beatrice breathed her last and turned into a spirit, Lucifer came and hold unto her soul.

My memory was hazy for a moment. Is there a scene of this? And it went clearer, that the producer did something in the adaptation effort. They put a fairy-tale like background, fitting everything into stereotype. Dante himself is portrayed as a knight coming from the Holy War. Well, he is a Templar. Meanwhile, Beatrice was changed into a Damsel in Distress, a princess waiting to be saved by the handsome prince.

It's weird, isn't it? In the original plot, Beatrice is the one who saves Dante from the darkness of his soul. Even more, she helps Dante getting through the journey. Is this a market demand to fit this philosophical tale into a fairy tale framework? Into the hegemony of a man, where woman is perceived as weak character to be saved? Interesting case, for in the 21st century like this, hegemonic masculinity still exist within the media and culture, in its subtlest possible way.

Dante himself is not a pure translation of the original Dante Alighieri. Even the fact that he had a pre-marital intercourse with Beatrice, a pure soul, reminded me of Faust. This resemblance is clearly nailed with the scene in which Dante found his unborn son in Limbo, the first circle of hell. Pre-marital intercourse with a pure soul, unborn child from the flawless virgin, this is clearly a mixture of two different classics. The producer might add this fact to spice up the plot, but it resulted in a different Inferno.

The distinction of good and evil is also very clear here. All demons in hell are evil, thus they have to be killed. Therefore, there are scenes in which Dante slain Charon and Minos. He even slaughtered the demon. Well, it is an important point in the game, but do they have to include the slaying here? They must be boss characters in the game...

The modification of the original also ignored the mythological references to certain characters. When Dante and Virgil have to mount Nessus to cross the river, I was very shocked. Nessus is portrayed as a sexualized female centaur with a bare chest and boobs. WHA? Nessus is supposed to be a male and lustful centaur who kidnapped Deianera in Heracles opus. If Nessus is a female, then she would never kidnap Deianera, thus never give Deianera the poisonous robe that killed Heracles.

Geee, I mumbled too much about this. This movie is not that bad, anyway. If you know nothing about Divine Comedy, this is a nice one (but you have to ignore different styles of animation throughout the movies, which can be pretty annoying). But for people who understand Divine Comedy, this is a completely new story. They only have the same name and concept. This is, once again, a fairy tale version of Divine Comedy.

Cambridge #2 : Christmas

Christmas is drawing near. And having been living in European, I finally feel the celebration. Unlike in Indonesia, people are very eager to take part in the party. It is really a family time, in which every family has their own tradition. Everybody wanted to go back to their home as soon as possible.

That leaves me alone in Cambridge. A small city in the middle of the bleak winter surrounded by antiquity. Living in college meaning staying alone with less people with silence all around. With a short winter day and bleak sky, the white Christmas will not be white.

I am supposed to be homesick, like my other friends. But the truth is, I don't miss my home very much. Some friends asked me, "How do you feel of spending christmas without your family?" I could not think about any answer rather than happy. Yes, I am looking forward to it.

My Christas was never full with tradition. It was never memorable. So, a bleak christmas here is even better than christmas at home.

PS : What the hell is this writing? I must be at the bottom, for this is very baad!

Moonlight Sonata

I got into a nice conversation with a classic musician yesterday. With the constant exposure to classic since my childhood, I came up with my own interpretation. To my surprise, the explanation came spontaneously. I did not think or contemplate. The tongue took over my mind, and along came elaborated speech of distinguishing between Beethoven and Mozart.

Did not think of what I said, I learned from myself about each of the musician. And it was true, Mozart is never really appealing to me, despite of what people said about him. Some of his pieces are too cheerful. Meanwhile, Beethoven carried his loneliness, isolation, desperation, and anxiety in most of his piece. For most of my life, loneliness, isolation, desperation, and anxiety were integral parts of me. That was the main reason of my connection with Beethoven. Even his happiest work, Ode to Joy would be somber in a slower rhythm.

Fur Elise used to be my favourite, but as times went by, Moonlight Sonata defined me more. When he asked me the reason of liking it, I could not explain it briefly. Each of the note carried desperation, so sad and dark. For some people who do not understand classic, this might be considered as scary and perfect for horror movie (shame on you, people!).

Now that I am staying in England, the feeling became stronger. I finally saw winter and autumn moon, and it was the real background for Moonlight Sonata. Something soft and calm in the middle of winter tree. A pale light trying to warm the cold and bleak winter. Bleak as the yearning heart for small amount of warmth. The solace and fake peace in the middle of the snow. The long buried pain and scar within the soul finally came arose due to the inability to bear it any longer.

Moonlight Sonata, the music about moon. But moon only occupied small amount of the music. The focus is more on the shadow of the moon. Under the dark shadow from the pale light, darkness awaits. It tempted people and scared them away with hundreds of illusion and deception. The sorrows lurk behind the white sheet of snow patiently wait for the next victim.

Ironically, Moonlight Sonata was originally created as Beethoven's proof of love. Indirectly, it portrays the dark side of the love. The sorrow after the betrayal, and the cold heart unable to love again, falling into pieces. There is this sense of unrecoverable condition, that no matter what happened, nothing could mend the soul. Something has already torn apart and shattered into crumbles. The impossibility of rejuvenation. In one hand, one hated the silence and loneliness, but on the other hand, it is something that one grow accustomed to. There is no way one can live outside the isolation and darkness, for they are what one knows all of one's life.

Shifting the situation into a merrier atmosphere would prove nothing. As the habit goes, one will keep creating a barrier and dwelt in one's own lonely corner.

Ah, Beethoven is just a genius!

I Miss You

I miss you patting my head, as it reduces my stress level.
as it soothes my anger.
as it takes me into calmness.

I miss you kissing my lips, as it burns away all the laments.
as it conveys my feeling.
as it rips my chest and let my heart fly to yours.

I miss my arms around you, as I can hear your every breath.
as I can feel your soft heart beat.
as I can flow in your very vein.

I want to sing this melody with you,
hum every refrain of our journey
repeat every coda of our venture
and end it with the encore from above.

I miss you........

Chronicle #8 : English Education

Well, coming back to chronicling my teaching experience. Something that I should have finished before I came to Cambridge. Well, time constraint made it a little bit impossible. Preparation ate a lot of my time, and procrastinating consume MOST of my time. Yeah, I am a goooooood procrastinator.

It came back to July 2009. After having a very bad "breakup" with certain bitch, I got a phone call that would change my life forever. It was from the Vice chairperson of my ex-study program. She asked me whether I would be available to teach in as a part-time lecturer. Whoa, whoa, NOT AVAILABLE? Get out of here, it was all I dreamed! I shouted spontaneously, "COUNT ME IN!!!!!"

To my surprise, she asked me to handle Interpreting classes. Yep, plural! I had two classes of interpreting. I was quite surprise, since it was a subject for final year student. Am I good enough to handle that, I thought in mind. But yea, without further ado I nodded (figuratively, of course. I was on a phone call anyway). And thus begun my journey as a part-time lecturer.

My first semester brought me into three different levels. I had interpreting class for final year students, writing class for second year students, and reading class for the fresher (Wait, fresher?? Gosh, this is UK talking. xixixixi)Again, I think my arrogance was really too much. Relying on the experience of teaching in History Department, I thought it would be the same. BIG MISTAKE, dude!

Interpreting class is really exhausting, both for the lecturer and the students. Difficult for students to progress, exhausting for the lecturer to prepare the material. Engaging students' participation needed extra effort, especially during a "sleepy hours". Yeah, Interpreting class at the moment when people got really tired and sleepy. Could not say that those were my greatest success. Once again, arrogance is certainly not a good start for teaching. But, I enjoyed it.

The Writing class was nice, but in some ways it was kinda limiting. I LOVE to talk, and by love, I mean A LOOT! And I love writing. Well, it was supposed to be okay, however lecturer did not talk a lot in writing class.*jawdropping* *speechless*

But I really enjoyed the reading class. Well, dealing with freshers is always nice. They were very cooperative and eager to learn. Not to mention their obedience. The discussion went well, and I enjoyed every moment of it. Have to admit, I looked forward to going into that class every week. Err, the first mid term test made that class down a little bit, but they soon changed their strategy to learn. To my surprise, they did improve. A LOT!

Second semester came, and I got more classes. This time, I had to teach two classes of Translation and two classes of Research Paper Writing for third year student as well as a writing class for second year students. And I should say that that was the most exhausting and challenging semester ever.

Teaching Translation was not as easy as flipping your hand. It was a skill. You cannot fully learn it, you have to acquire it. The best analogy of teaching translation i like teaching art. You have to feel it, and no theory could help you fully. So difficult that I almost lost my confidence in teaching. Killer, ambitious, killer, difficult, killer, serious, killer, killer, killer. Those were things written on my forehead for the students. Lots and lots protested for my grading system, but I insist on using my standard. Unlike the reading class in the previous semester, the classes were killing me.

Unique case happened in the Research Paper Writing classes. I enjoyed teaching in one class, we even had so much fun. I felt like having the best scientific discussion ever. But the other class ditched on me. This particular class, I never know why, also saw the writing on my forehead like the translation class did.

Thank God I had the writing class for second year. They were nice, talkative, cooperative, and sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet. Those people were funny, and the important thing was, they were the one keeping my sanity in place.

Well, I had my own up and down with that. No matter how long have you been teaching, there is always new thing to learn. And every class is different, so we really need to adjust ourselves without lowering the standard.

Cambridge #1 : Day One

By the time I set my feet at Heathrow, I still couldn't believe that I reached far far away land. Everything looked the same, except the fact that most of them were caucasian. Within the airport, I didn't feel the difference to Indonesia. Hell, even when I took my train to Paddington station and saw London's landscape, it still felt like watching movie.

From Paddington, I went to King's Cross. After going through several torturing stairways (because of my overweighted luggage), I managed to get to the ticket booth. They gave me the ticket to Cambridge, and guess what? The train was leaving in five minutes from Platform 9b. Well, blame my wild imagination, but as I ran to catch my train, I imagined myself as Harry Potter running along catching the train in Platform 9 3/4. Thank God I didn't bump into Hogwarts Express. Hehehehe!

During my jouney, I found out why people said that England is wet and gloomy. It really is, with all the rain, cloudy days, and shades. The authenticity and antiquity were certainly there. It is really an old and classic country. The medieval scent is lingering in every tree, in every bricks of houses, in every pint of air.

And after an hour, I finally reached Cambridge. If London carried the sense of antiquity in every part, Cambridge is the antique itself. Every big building, colleges, and chapels warped me back to the glorious day of the monarch. The day of nobility and aristocracy. No motorcycle, few cars, and MANYYY bicycles.

With all the cold wind and light shower, I felt very welcomed by the old atmosphere.

Chronicle #7 : CEIC - The Intermediate Saga

Intermediate level has almost never been apart from my journey in Language Institute Sanata Dharma University. In fact, it is almost identical with me. During my previous chronicle, I wrote that I taught in two intermediate classes. Now, the rest of Intermediate classes are written here.

The third batch of Intermediate class consisted of some mad guys and girls. Some of them were from the previous Pre-Intermediate level. I still have Gina, Angel, Ogi, and Yaya. Only Emi wasn't there. Combined with several newcomers, the class became more colorful. Initially, the coordinator was afraid of my partiality towards the class members, since I grew closer to the previous students. But as the time progressed, the whole class develop into one soul.

And what did I do back then? To be honest, I am still questioning that myself. Was I teaching or was I just merely playing with them? This time, I started losing control over myself. They lighted up the flare triggering my “wild” state. Moreover, I got Uul, my ex-senior during the high-school day, whom I love to trick with her echolaria problem. There was also the duet, Andhi and Taufiq, the OLD (yes, I put the emphasis on the word OLD) but nice Ario, the lecturer. I also had DJ Win, whom you might not thought that he is one, since he was quite serious.

The class changed into a brotherhood and family for each of us. I still remembered how we gathered outside the class, had a “cooking class” during the weekend, and several hangouts. Well, actually we are still hanging out together until now. The inspirational thing came from them was what Ario said, “When I came into your class, I felt like having a relaxation from my office duty. That's why I couldn't wait coming to your class!”

But I cannot have them as my students forever, can I? The next batch came, and to my surprise, they were crazier. There were cousins, Yenny and Wuri, the cool Andre,Fitri, who got the innocence face but in fact can act WILD! There were Rama, the ever-spirited boy, Laura, a childlike girl, Adit, the city planner, and the calm vet, Kristin. Donny the chipmunk, served as class clown, providing laughter and intermezo in a totally high dose. Luthfi the emo boy and Manov, the musician, who provided nice music during Friday Fun Fest. The class was also colored by the ever-ambitious Freandy and serious boy, Nanda Resa, who loved talking about politics and sometimes slow to diggest others' jokes. Gawd, I've just realized that this class is the largest in number among my other intermediate classes. Which probably is the LOUDEST class ever!!!!

After taking care of such a loud class, people would think that I needed a rest. Well, actually no, but somehow the next intermediate class was the smallest in number ever. I only had three students, Ipam, Dyke, and Dimas. Whew! What a challenge, since it was very hard to lift the class' mood and atmosphere. The worst case happened during the presentation, with only one student came LATE. Aaaargh, I felt like banging my head on the wall.

Thankfully, the next batch came with a flock of gooners and looners. There were two Intermediate classes, and I was in charge for both of them. In the first class, I only got 8 students, but they were more than enough for the level of loudness. Sure, there were Dewi and Yani, the cool and calm ones. But on the other hand, I got Satya, the mad scientist, Fryssa Yudha and Paska Aprilia, the deadly duet. Combined with the queen of one liner, Olive, the occassional looner, Vincent, and the posh girl, Weni, the result was C-H-A-O-S!! I didn't need to speak much, they wouldn't stop speaking. I remembered that once someone had to take me over for the class, and she sighed deeply, “What a class!!” Ahahahahaha, you rocked, guys!!

Well, the second class of that period was as fun as the first one, but with a slower tempo. Hangu, Uut, Burhan, Lia, and Tika. All were nice students, quite active and can go wild sometime. Just in a perfect dose (while the previous class suffered from over-dosage of madness). I also got a bunch of pharmacist. Amel and her boyfriend, Dita, and the eternal victim Ema. Nice class, especially useful for balancing my sanity. Hahahahaha!!

In the begining of 2010, I had also two classes of Intermediate level. To be honest, the first class did not leave a strong impression, except for one student, Mr. D. He was the only student who literally made me want to commit homicide in class. Most of the students were standard, not really crazy. Most of the time, I was stunned with all the corny and awkward jokes.

But as the balancing law stated, I got a LOUD class at the second shift. Gee, this class even reminded me of my third period. We were once again united as a family, even managed to secure a name for the class, Syphillis class. Aww, ain't that sweet? (Sweet? That's dirty!). There were Laura, the oldest sister(even older than me), Ria, the overly innocent girl with the chocolatte brownies, Ane, the hype one who happened to be a DJ-apprentice, and Ucrit, the small and childish girl. From the boy side, there were BIG Arif, who was a bit perverted, Tejo, the electrocutted-musician, Prama and Burhan, both with their own madness and silliness, Ernest, the photographer, and Ilham, the little brother of everyone. I really had fun with this class!!! BLASTING, guys!!

Due to some circumstances, there was no intermediate class in the following period. Instead, I was assigned to two pre-intermediate classes. But at least, in the next one, I still got my final intermediate assignment.

My job in CEIC is closed by a nice intermediate level consisted of Aulia, Celly, Pungkas, my old friend in Canista, Ronal, Koko, Tika, the talkative Cindhi, and Donna. Guess that concludes my having fun in that level.

Just realized, I wrote mainly about fun, not teaching. To be honest, teaching in the intermediate level really saves me a lot of stress. It relieved my burned-out mind and distracting all problems that I had in mind, saved for one time. Thanks guys for coloring my two-years of teaching in CEIC!

Chronicle #6 : History Department

Just a few months after being accepted in Language Institute (and finishing the probational period), I got the offer to teach at History Department. They needed a lecturer to teach writing in English III. Since the director of Language Institute knew that my thesis was about writing skill, she appointed me for the position. Of course, in an instant, I nodded my head. Hey, it was a rare opportunity.

Having been informed that my colleague used to make the syllabus for the same class, I contacted her. When receiving the last-year syllabus, I was shocked. It was different. Not including writing skill at all, but English learning strategy instead. Meanwhile, the department asked me to develop students' writing skill. So, I changed the whole syllabus.

I was nervous back then. Can my syllabus be called as reliable? Was that really a valid one? Designing material and syllabus have been my activity since several semesters backward. But this time, I am dealing with the formal institute. University and official study program. Meaning, my syllabus will also be used as the consideration in the accreditation process. I had some moments of losing my confidence.

However, in the process, I found out that it was interesting. I got all the freedom that I wanted! I was free to choose what to teach, what to test, and even what not to teach. BOOM! The syllabus was done, the material was done.

To my surprise, I found out that English class in history department was treated like a step children. There were a lot of thoughts that they are hopeless. However, faced by the opinion like that, I couldn't help but challenged. In my mind, I set what could I do for them. If they were really hopeless, how could I raise their motivation to learn English and made them confide in themselves. At least, made them feeling precious and not being left out.

Then came the day when I had to enter the class for the first time. Dang, they were late for almost half an hour. I initially wanted to be angry, but considering their nature, it will have a bad impact to their motivation if I shouted at them in the first meeting. At that moment, I decided that I had to change my paradigm. I had to be very fluid. And yet, only one student came out of three. What should I do with one student? I finally ended up on chatting, and that was the first bonding I had with students from History Department.

As the time went by, I know each of the students personally. And yet, the class turned to be a workshop class. They got no complaint, and even got no secret. Most of the time, we were just having short discussion. I grew close to Angga, the perverted otaku boy and Gilang, the bohemian one. Ah well, actually we got close real fast because we were all bohemian.

Actually, I got more “students” when teaching there. It was a big class, occupied only by two students and one lecturer. But the class was always full (with invisible things). Huauahuahuahuahau! So, I was not only teaching a human being......

On the second semester, I met with Angga and Gilang again in English IV. However, this time I met more people. Sister Mena, the persistent one. She was left behind in term of ability and English mastery, but her persistence and diligence helped her to cope up with the others. She even served as my catalyst, especially when my joke went too far. I had Ifa, the activist, in my class. She was a bright girl, but her problem came in her dilligence. She skipped the class often. Thank God, she managed to pass my class, although I had to bend my own rule once for her sake. I couldn't let someone as bright as her failed my class only because of sickness. Then, I had the gentle Tati, as much as being inaccurate, she tried hard. Like the others, she almost failed my class too, but managed to escape. Then the last member who colored my class was Ismi, the WIIIILD girl. Well, not wild in dirty context, but wild in term of attitude.

Their class was different, for we had more students. The discussion was interesting. Can you imagine the students were so eager discussing agnosticism? Or when Angga suddenly came up with the topic of Hindu Trinity. We were really helping one another. (And that might be the reason why they never believe me being a killer lecturer).

The last class in history department happened last semester. I got two more serious students, but still pretty close. Deaz and Ayunda. They were very bright! No problem with dilligence. And yet, they still thought that the class was fun.

So, what's the moral value? Hmmm, never really good with this one, but lemme try. Can I say that, never underestimate people? Since they can show you their hidden potential. And it will really left you in awe.

One thing for sure, I was glad to teach in the history department. It was a memorable thing, even my sanctuary when I felt overwhelmed by my other teaching tasks. Sanctuary, since I can release my stress and burden, teaching while stripping all the formality.

Chronicle #5 : CEIC - The Beginning

Just few months before my graduation, I applied for an instructor position in Language Institute Sanata Dharma University. My motivation back then was merely for having a secure social position while looking and applying for my Master Degree.

Well, skipping all the process and impression, I was assigned for Intermediate class. You can say that since my first period until this last one, I always got Intermediate class but once when there was no applicant for that level.

The training for the instructors demanded us to be instructor fully like the theory. Positioning ourselves as the instructor, giving and being the source of knowledge. Being the new member of the community, as well as having a probational period, I tried so hard to fit in. All the things from the training were implemented in my strategy and methodology. Assigned to one mentor, I tried so hard to copy her way of teaching, knowing that she is a senior lecturer. The combination of so-called good teaching and my bohemian style came into being. Yet, I never felt comfortable.

My first class consisted of some old students from the previous level. With all efforts to show my capabilities, I never managed to get close to them. The class turned out to be corny, partly because of my inability to manage the mood. All my jokes were cheesy, and even most students said that I often offended them. My evaluation became very bad, and this means BAAAAD! It was the time when I even doubted my ability to teach. Seriously, I was thinking of giving up teaching back then.

That bad result came into the decision of prolonging my probation period. Something shameful, at least for myself. I always saw myself as adaptable and prodigy, but that cockiness finally consumed me.

On my prolonged probation period, I was assigned to three different levels. Upper Beginner, Pre-Intermediate, and Intermediate. Further humiliation came in form of my being assigned to each of the level only once a week. A proof that the seniors had no trust in my capability (which honestly is lasting until now. But hey, who cares??) This feeling of desperation was even encouraged by the fact that none of my students decided to continue to the next level.

During my desperation, I found out that one of my high school friends, Emi, enrolled in the Pre-Intermediate class. Equipped with that fact, I decided to go crazy. Hell cares with what happened to my career there. I mocked my students there, ignoring what it might do to my evaluation later on. Fortunately, they accepted all those mockeries and insults. We even insulted one another. My Bohemian Style was resurrected once again.

The schedule rolling came, and I was removed from Pre-Intermediate, putting me into the focus of Upper Beginner and Intermediate. Upper Beginner never really stroke my attention, while in the Intermediate class, I had three students from Japan. Yuta, Naomi, and Satsuki. Feeling honored for teaching foreigners, I tried to impress them with the knowledge of anime. But they saw me in turn as OTAKU. Gyahahaha! I also got a band of students from UGM, four jesters! And for the first time, I had to teach two mature guys. One was a lecturer from a reputable university, and the other was a public accountant. Another addition to the class was the beautiful Regina, who later became the MC of our outdoor activity at the time.

In the meantime, the students from Pre-Intermediate kept asking about my whereabout to the course coordinator. They missed me and wanted me to teach them back. My coordinator was very surprised knowing that I was DEMANDED! Yeah, once again, DEMANDEEED! Thus, she put me back in the pre-intermediate class. It was when I felt right back at home. It was the factor which finally put me in a more stable position at the course.

I remembered the bond, especially when I had to turn down their invitational offer for dinner. It was a very complicated situation, and I had to explain it to them. To my surprise, they invited me again for dinner. Playing trick on them, the most memorable one was making Emi literally jumping out for a horror story and hiding Ogi's bag during the final test. If I have to mention their name one by one, I will have to carve them in my very grateful heart. Emi, Angel, Gina, Yaya, and Ogi.

So, what's the lesson? I think it is being yourself. Don't force yourself to be someone you're not. If you teach in a Bohemian Style, and you enjoy it, your students will feel that. They will enjoy you in turn.

Chronicle #4 : Mimika

The fourth classical experience in teaching came to me upon the chance of giving tutorial. Sanata Dharma decided to have a cooperative program with West Papua. That province sent some prospective students to study under the scholarship scheme. However, due to the different quality of education in Papua and Java, the university saw the importance of matriculation program.

The matriculation program aimed to provide a more solid basic for those students from Mimika, at least in the three basic subjects, Math, English, and Indonesian. Thus, the matriculation was given to the three study programs in Education Faculty. Being a 'lucky' student in the English Education program, I was selected to be one of the tutors. I'd say lucky, since I went to the common room during the appropriate time, and seeing my face, suddenly I got the offer to teach.

Considering that English might be difficult, we were alloted 6 meetings. Those were then divided into 6 different tutors, consisting of 3 student-teachers, 1 real teacher, and 2 lecturers. Furthermore, it was divided into several different skills. I was lucky to get speaking, working together with Bu Ade, an English teacher from SMK Pembangunan.

Just as we thought, the students were difficult. There were 20 students initially, but their number decreased over time. The learning pace was VERY SLOW, and the tutors had to be extremely patient. It was even added with the fact that during a morning session – which is unfortunately my session – they could come late for almost half an hour.

Some students were problematic, no hyperbolic expresssion intended. When we shared among the tutors, there was always one name sprung up and heated our discussion. The student's name was Marco. People thought that he was lazy, unmotivated to learn, and having an extremely low understanding. I myself never experienced that thing, since Marco rarely showed up during my session.

One day, I saw Marco in my session. He showed up late. And I found out that my partners' saying about him were all true. It was a challenge, and I decided to have a personal approach to him. Getting close to him and guide him step by step, started spending more time on him. It was frustrating at first, with countless repetition and explanation even for a simple thing. My head was almost exploding, and the rage started to accumulate within. But I affirmed myself that I could pass this.

After several meetings, I got a surprise. By the end of the class, Marco came to me and expressed his gratitude, “Sir, thank you so much for explaining extensively to me. Now I can understand those things. You know, I might be stupid, but by your explanation, I really wanted to learn more. You are the first person who came to me and repeat everything slowly. I felt ashamed for not having motivation. Thank you so much for caring about me!”

At that moment, I had an instant meltdown inside. Is that the key? Seeing your student as a human being, not a machine. That however bad your students are, you still have to treat them as a human being, cura personalis. And the persistence in personification will result in a trusting bond.

In the end, Marco did not keep his words. He failed the matriculation and was sent back to Mimika. But he did give me something to learn and reflect. How to treat your student.

And trust me, fellow teachers, if you had that moment, you will realize that some things cannot just be measured by money.

Chronicle #3 : SMA 6

As a student of Teacher Training Faculty, there is an obligatory step to pass, Practice Teaching, or commonly referred as PPL. Well, I could not escape from that obligation as well, thus I had to undergo that at 2007. Actually, I requested specially to be placed in the school which had the international class, for the sake of my research. To be more specific, I requested to be put together with my research fellows. But tha fate brought me another story.

Not only being separated from my research fellows, I was a little bit shocked knowing that I was put in SMA 6. Well, the first impression of that senior high school is never good. It is still famous for the juvenile. Gee, I was never a naughty boy in the first place. Well, I was and still am tricky, sometimes naughty, but never into juvenile. Hell, I even despised school gang when I was still in the senior high. It was a very frightening thought.

Came the briefing time, and I was a bit relieved to find that my partners were good people. At least, they were reliable and cooperative. Not only from Sadhar, I also met student teachers from UNY and UAD. Well, never had the problem with people from UNY, but I did have a sharp covert conflict with UAD, even involving manipulating students to hate them and put bad stigma for them in the common room. You can say that I learnt how to be a cunning politician back then, how to create disgrace without being known.

Enough for that, since it will just be a completely new story and journal. This chronicle talked about the teaching experience, anyway. In that case, I was lucky for I got a nice supervising teacher. Pak Harwanto, English teacher specialized in teaching conversation and speaking. He usually taught the material out of the curriculum. His principle is encouraging the students to speak English, regarding the curriculum. Furthermore, he loved his job very much. Therefore, I never experienced the “slavery” that most practice students had. Ohohohohoho!! arrogant laugh

Pak Harwanto gave us a whole week, teaching the same material for 14 classes, and that was it. No more. So, I taught 7 meeting in 7 different classes (1st grade) with the same material, while Kenyar taught the same number of class in the 2nd grade. In the following week, we had already been freed from any teaching task. WHAT A BLISSFUL HEAVEN!!!

Being placed under that type of teacher, my Bohemian style of teaching was further developed and encouraged. He never asked me and Kenyar, the other student teacher, to write him a lesson plan and curriculum. Hell, we were never bothered with making those stuffs until the end of the program. He only asked us what to teach, a small discussion about the material, and that's it. He even asked me to give mark to Kenyar, and vice versa. Being given chance like that, of course we gave one another A. Gyahahahaha!

Well, eventhough we taught in Bohemian style, we prepared our teaching material well. I still remember how I brought my own computer speaker to the class only for the sake of listening. Carrying the same experience of teaching in SEDC, I tried to get close to the students. Well, to be honest, I never put myself higher than those students, but trying to fit into their circle instead. Thus, the students were not afraid to me, but at the same time, they will be more obedient, since the communication is like a communication between friend.

They enjoy our classes, even though I said it myself. Being a tricky boy who loved to play trick on student teacher when I was in Senior High, I was afraid of having the same experience myself. Karmic consequence, eh? But it never happened, to my surprise. I even played trick on my students, and they were never offended, even enjoyed it. Err, I'd say that I outwitted those tricky students. That resulted in having a very WILD class. People might thought that my class was wrecked in havoc, with loud voices and shouts here and there. But hey, those were speaking classes, and the louder the merrier, eh? Pak Harwanto expressed no complaint, he even enjoyed the class.

The students? No complaint, no trick, and not even any violence. I even revised my impression that SMA 6 students ARE nice. Once you get close to them, they will even treat you as friend. I even spent the break time with some students at the canteen. Treating one another and gossiping about beautiful female students. Gee, it was a very nice experience.

Then, what is the lesson to pick from this chronicle? What did I learn from teaching at SMA 6? I guess the biggest thing I acquired was the encouragement for my bohemian teaching style. Hehehehehe! It's not wrong to be a bohemian teacher, as long as you can bring joy and knowledge to both your students and yourself. La Vie Boheme!!!

Chronicle #2 : Mahatma

The second massive teaching experience took place during my SPD class. At that class, every group is supposed to teach in at least one class of non-educational institution. Every group is independent, in a sense that the lecturer paid no attention to you material development or your teaching methodology. The concern here lied in the professionalism and the art of entrepreneurship.

I was very lucky to team-up with incredible people. Mahatma, the name of our team, consisted of Non, a nice lady with strong determination, Dee, who provided us with nearly-infinite networking and negotiating, Riri, who brought about creative energy towards us, Fajar, the walking dictionary, Nugroho, our gadget expert and technician, as well as Yudi, the hardworker. We were so close, even grew into a family of our own, dwelling in the Self Access Centre.

Our passion and determination resulted in two clients, Poltabes Yogya and Grand Mercure Hotel. We broke the record of income (which is not yet broken up until now) in SPD class, resulting in 7 million only from Poltabes. Those were nice time, since I had the chance of teaching adult learners. My (supposed to be) students are the commissioners, Kapolres, and some high-leveled officers. Well, considering the nature of the police, I only taught one effective class there.

Nope, that didn't mean that I only taught once in Poltabes. We still had the other class there, for Tourism Police. At least, I had the chance of teaching them as well. Fun, though the students were not really memorable. The funnest thing is the teamwork with those incredible individuals.

We had also classes in Grand Mercure Hotel. Teaching English for Hotel Staff. Again, the students were not so great, but the process was superb! I mean, we dwelt in SAC for finishing the material, working together with 5 borrowed laptops on the table (at that time, having laptop is still a privilege to some people only), accessing the internet with connection made specially for us (and there was no hotspot back then). We had lunch in the lab, something forbidden, but we were covered by the SAC attendants, and even took a nap on the couch there. In short, the SAC became our own office.

The Grand Mercure Hotel was satisfied with our work, and they extended the contract into a more specific purposes, English for Spa. This time, it was more fun than the previous, since our students were more diligent, and we had the class in spa! The real spa, with the welcoming drink. Ahahahaha, it was a very unique experience. When are you going to have a class again in the massage room?? Therapy room??

The satisfaction continued, and we were contacted for a third contract. However, some members had already busy with their own business, and we decided to disband Mahatma. And that was the end of an era, concluding the second chronicle of my teaching experience.

Chronicle #1 : SEDC

The prospect of continuing my study brings about its own consequence, I have to stop teaching for a year or more. It will be a very difficult thing to do, since I've been teaching for six years by now. Both good things and good things happened through the time being. I've encountered various people, various classes, in various condition. Thus, to honor those people as my stepping stone of learning, here I will be writing a chronicle for each and every class.

My very first chance of teaching started at August 2004, as a debate coach in SEDC, Smada English Debating Community. I was nobody back then. Although I studied at English Education, where I was supposed to be trained as a teacher, I didn't get any teaching theory or classes in my first year. So, I brought nothing, no underlying theories or principles. All I did was relying on my instinct and feeling, recalling my expectation of what a good teacher should be.

Well, it was never a formal class, since I was entrusted to coach a debating club in my former high school. There were no fixed syllabus, no fixed lesson plan, or even fixed rules. Nothing. Everything was left to me, I could do anything I wanted. But it was really valuable, for I learned how to teach by myself, I got many chances to develop my own teaching style. Moreover, I acquired myself brothers and sisters.

My relation with the trainee was different. In some ways, I never put myself higher than them. They were never considered as subordinate, just little brothers and sisters. They learned how to debate, how to solve the problem, and I shared the same things. We grew into a family, where one shared the problems to the others. Love and hate grew at the same time.

Training was never the only thing I did then. I learned how to cope with various problems. Motivating them, even stood for them in time of need. Ah, hell, I think I've written a lot about SEDC here in this blog. But the words will never be able to convey the real feeling dwelling within this soul. The warmth that those children emanated and resonated with one another.

I found myself one of my greatest brothers and friends in form of a problematic student. He was almost kicked out, and I learned through him how to stand for someone. How to encourage people, how to motivate people, as well as how to be there in the time of need.

The problem from the outside kept coming, and that was my test of endurance. To be honest, I was never strong enough to keep standing firm. No, I shed my tears million times, both in front of them or behind them. The thought of quitting constantly came into my mind, but the students in one way or another expressed that I was still needed. And at that time, I learned how the true connection of students – teacher can be really strong. Though the teacher might be smarter or older, he doesn't necessarily need to be strong all the time. The students can be your source of energy.

During the hard period of my life, when I felt alone and loveless, the existence and smile of those students were rejuvenating. They made me realize, that though I possess no girlfriend, I still have them, and I would never be alone with them. The constant message asking for advice, the complains, the smiles, and the sharings are proofs that I am still needed and loved. Some people might consider it hyperbolic, but without those students back then, I might have committed suicide. They were the lanterns enlighting my dark path, when I encountered my inner demon and felt that I would lose.

With all those things, I was never hesitated to stand up for them. Though not always frontal, I even confronted my own faculty for them. I confronted some teachers that I used to adore and admire. Why? For the sake of those children.

The salary might never be enough in number, hell, some people even said that the salary was not humane. But, hey, not all things in this world can be measured by money. There are more valuable things, such as the appreciation that you got, the smile on your students' lips, the strong bond you forged, and the sense of belonging. Those are the reason for me clinging to SEDC for 5 years.

5 years of happiness, if I may say. Those years weren't always filled with laughter and smiles. But even the cries and the tears are making it more worthed.

SEDC, my very first class, my very first students, but will never be my end. The 6 batches of SEDC debaters, whoever you are, you will always live in my memory and remembrance.

Desecration of a Temple

Several months ago, I had the chance of accompanying one of my best pals to visit various Candi in Yogya. From him, I learned how people should respect Candi. He put off his shoes before entering the candi, went around the structure exactly 3 times, and really respect even the stone floor. Back then, he said to me that it is a sacred place for praying, and we should treat it as something really sacred. And at that time, my eyes were wide opened, that candi is really a sacred place, not just a pile of archaeological stones.

However, I faced a different situation when I had to escort my cousin to Borobudur several days ago. As people might know that Borobudur was one of the Seven Wonders in the world, it was supposed to be incredible. Moreover, it is also one of the biggest Budhist structures in the world, not to mention its unique configuration as a giant mandala to reach the Nirvana. I am not a Budhist myself, but with the background of Borobudur and its grandeur, it is expected to be respected.

When I got there, there was an announcement that people should not bring a food to the complex of the temple. Well, it was quite rational, since nobody would expect someone to eat in the mosque, church, or temple. And Borobudur is one of the famous temples.

But what did I found there? On the second level, I saw a family sitting in the corner and ate their meal there. They ate it as if they were eating in the park, not in a sacred place. Some of them are veiled women, while I shouldn’t judge them as super-pious, but it was a bit of a ironic scene, wasn;t it? Moreover, they threw away the garbage on the floor.

As a tourism object, surely many children visited the structure. But, most of them were not even interested in it. Well, not blaming them, of course, considering the nature of the children. But the parents themselves were not giving anything to their children. In their mind, they only consider Borobudur as a mere pile of stones from the time of long forgotten. Aaaargh! Does that mean they are allowed to desecrate it?

To make it worse, I accidentally overheard one of the tour guide explaining the relief. To my surprise, he told the tourists that the relief was about Shiva, one of the Hindu Trinity. Jiaah. Borobudur is a Budhist temple, and it’s not even related to any of the Hindu Cosmology. Where the hell did they found this brainless and uncultured guide?

The most ironic one is that, the foreign visitors even respected the temple more than Indonesian visitors. Gee, and what about the campaign of preserving our own culture? The younger generation showed no respect and interest to it, and how would they preserve it??

And with all the disappointment, I officially ran out of good words to write here. Let me stop, or else I might write bad things. Period.

Dalam Derai Hujan

Sayang,

Senja ini hujan turun dengan lebatnya, dengan buliran-buliran air yang mengetuk-ngetuk kaca jendelaku. Angin yang berhembus dengan kencang menemani jatuhnya limpahan tirta dari langit bersuara sangat keras, memukul-mukul udara, menambah dinginnya suasana sore ini. Dan aku hanya bisa memandanginya dari balik kaca ini, pandangan kabur yang tertutup lelehan air mata angkasa.

Di dalam ruangan remang ini, aku hanya duduk sendiri berteman sepi dan kerlip cahaya lilin. Di sampingku, secangkir teh hangat mengepul menggoda membelai indra penciumanku. Api kecil dari lilin dan kepulan asap dari cangkir itu seolah berusaha untuk membawaku masuk ke dalam kehangatan semu dan perlindungan dari terpaan dingin yang menggigit serta kegelapan yang menyelimuti ruang ini. Listrik sudah mati semenjak dua jam yang lalu, sementara sinar mentari terlalu lemah untuk menembus air terjun cakrawala ini.

Ketika aku mencoba memandang keluar dari jendela ini, benakku melayang ke arah hadiratmu. Bagaimana aku merindukanmu, bagaimana ketidakhadiranmu di tempat ini telah membuat rasa dingin itu semakin mencekam. Tanganku hampa, merindu kehadiranmu, merindu ragamu untuk mengisi kekosongan pelukan ini. Jemariku mencari lekuk wajahmu, lekuk-lekuk yang telah kukenal. Dan aku rindu berbisik pelan di telingamu, kisikan lembut tentang rasa di dalam jiwaku.

Kita bertukar sapa dengan bahasa yang kita ciptakan sendiri. Kata-kata yang hanya bisa kita pahami sendiri, tanpa ada orang lain yang mengetahuinya. Karena bagiku, semua pandangan matamu memiliki artinya sendiri, setiap gerakan tubuhmu adalah kalimat yang terbaca jelas di mataku. Setiap hembus nafasmu menjelma menjadi rangkaian huruf-huruf yang bermakna, dan setiap getar di kulitmu menggambarkan detil kecil dalam jiwamu. Jauh lebih indah bahkan dari seribu Monalisa, jauh lebih dalam daripada ribuan karya ratusan filsuf, dan jauh lebih bermakna daripada seribu kata.

Tapi kau tidak ada disini. Hanya kerlip lilin yang hampir padam, dan angin dingin yang berhembus pelan membelai setiap sumsum tulang ini, menggigit dan menyusup terlalu dalam. Terlalu dalam hingga kekosongan ini menjadi jauh semakin menyakitkan dan hampa.

Dan hujan pun masih terus turun, sementara surya sudah mulai menghilang perlahan ke peraduannya. Malam pun menjelang, dengan angin yang semakin dingin. Ruangan semakin gelap, dan aku masih saja sendiri tanpa dirimu.

My Glee Club

After finishing Glee: Complete Season One and watching its season Finale, my tears rolled out in the cheek. The song To Sir With Love had touched the very core of my passion, and at that time I was reminded to my own experience, coaching my own "Glee Club".

I already found out since the very first time watching Glee, that this is a story I can connect myself too. I did have the experience of handling underdog team, SEDC.

Just like Glee, SEDC was nothing. I only got few members, and we never won any competition at my first year of coaching. The school gave us nothing, and we had to try hard to sponsor ourselves. Most of the time, transportation became an obstacle, and the coaches had to escort the members to the competition. Not to mention refreshment and calling credit. Meanwhile, the payback was not that much (financially, but not emotionally).

The Sue Sylvester figure was also there for us. She kept trying to sabotage us in various competitions, making us lose in a completely unfair matter. And just like the character, it was (finally known to be) done out of jealousy. The first year was just another crash and burn. Most of the time, we got beaten up in our last step.

However, as the world turned, we managed to secure ourselves several positions. And from that time, we grew bigger and seized some spotlights at school. And that's how my "glee club" went from nothing to something. Guys, I'm proud of you.

Song of Song

Dear,

Don’t you know that you have deconstructed my world? I used to live in a perfect solace, living all by myself and hiding beneath my own hard shell. But you came into my life, lightening every dark corner of my soul with your very presence. And at that very first time, my exile was completely shattered, forcing me to live under the mercy of your briliance.

You are the harbinger, ending my gloomy sanctuary with your radiance. A single smile of you bestows the warmth towards my small retreat. I was and still am blinded by your white seathe of flickering passion, leaving me nowhere to go but following your trail.

The innocence smile on your lips carry me to the deep slumber, provoking me to go beyond the unconsciousness. Ecstatic yet rejuvinating at the same time. Invigorating but daring, bringing me to the unimaginable pleasure within. Joyful and calming in the same moment.

I couldn’t stand seeing your frail figure crumbled by the tears, thus I shouted to the God to give me chance for wiping away your tears. Eradicating all the sorrow that your heart stored for a long time. Though small and weak as well, I am offering you my shoulder to lean on. You can cast away all the agony that burn you, cleansing them all through the tears you shed inside my embrace. And nobody would know that, let it be our little secret.

Yet you covered me with your wide brilliant wings, engulfed me by the sheet of soft lullaby. Just by being near you, I would forget all my worries. I do long to fall unto your chest, laying down my head on it. With the ticking sound of your soft beating of the heart, you already chant the softest and loveliest lullaby. I would not dare to dream while sleeping, for there is no more beautiful dream to dream. You were my wildest dream, and now it comes true.

Within your grasp of staring at me, my thought ran to every single corner possible in the universe. For you become my inspiration, toppling down the grace of the great muse, and reigning in their throne instead. And the most important thing, you are still you.