New Pages: February 2005

Sunday, February 27, 2005

dirty laundry?

I am a Christian, and born as a catholic, whatever it’s called, protestant, Bethany, charismatic, gereformeerd, catholic, etc., I am Christian.
Today I’m not writing about my believe, and to provoke your thoughts into this.
In fact, what I’ve been experiencing, provoke me to write this down.

I have a good friend, a best friend, a friend that I know her as a very good person and kind hearted. I love her still and respect her more everyday although she claimed to be a non believer—in God, I don’t dare to call her an atheist, since I’m not really sure its true definition.
I have another friend, the one that I just knew, a young talented artist, which once on our way from Jakarta to Bandung, mentioned that ‘god[s]’ and ‘religion[s]’ are creations of persons that desperate on their life—if I may put it in my reinterpretation of our hours discussion.
I also have an acquaintance, or maybe a friend, that once so annoyed when I said, “in fact, I don’t agree with people using Jesus as a cursing word,” while we watched Bend It Like Beckham. We then—I regret it completely— were trapped in a debate where I defended this name as my God’s name which people should pay respect on, and he defended this attitude—cursing with Jesus name—as just unintentional casual deed.

Eventhough I was defending Jesus name in that discussion, and involved in debates about god as creation of depressants or not, I have to underline this that I’m not a good Christian still. Not those who regularly go to church weekly, pay 10% of their income, fasting, or even fight for God's name.
I should admit, I curse with F word, or S word or D word, or whatever words in my mother language.

Don’t take it wrong, it’s nothing to do with confession here. It’s more a reproach from me to me, on my believe, religion and God.

Ask those persons who closed to me, and they will describe me as a very critical, hard and bitter person, which is far from what you hope to see in Christians.

Now, you ask me what the purpose then of this writing, am I building my argument that’s another perspective of Christianity? Not at all. Excuse me to make myself clear: this is merely a reproach towards my self and my believe.

I’m telling myself that I am a complete human.

I admit my weaknesses, and struggling hard to stand tall on it.
Particularly in my age right now.
My last discussion with that artist friend of mine, was about why we bother so much on small things—together with big things—in this age of ours. Is it what they call quarter life crisis? [hello..., isn't it always much simple to give it a philosophical point of few, then religious way?]

We hope that we can proof ourselves, while we never know actually what may come tomorrow, or the day after, or even an hour after.
These last few thoughts on the unexpectedness of life even drown me deeper into my consciousness on my humanity, my weaknesses.
Thus, I start to think what if I lost my breathe a month, week, day or even a minute after…?
I should admit it that I’m scared and I still do.
Ask those believers—the true Christians, who believe life after earth—they won’t ever—normally—afraid of what so called ‘death’

Thus, am I still a Christian?

Ok, no need to go that far to Death.

Let say, my worries.
In one phrase from Bible once mentions—and also in my favorite hymn when I was 10:

that God dresses up grass that will die another day, and gives shelters for foxes and food to birds, thus why you, human, which are the best creation of God, should be worry what will you wear or eat or where to stay tomorrow?
Well…it’s not the exact words, but that’s in my own word, from my memory of the phrase and hymn.
I wish I was 10 years old, when my worries were less then now, and I enjoyed life much better everyday.

Now as I—or maybe you, or is it only me?—grow old, surrounds me easily manipulate my thoughts, sometimes they are positive, but most of the time dark and negative.
Worrying has been part of my daily thought, which I hate a lot, and trying to dismiss it little by little each day.

A good Christian laid their worries in God. While me, I did lay it in Him, but sometimes as if I don’t believe, I took it back and trying hard to fix it by myself.

Is this picture of laying worries in God’s hand what my artist friend meant by ‘desperate attitude’?

Today I read an article by Mohammad Sobary, an infamous Indonesian writer, in Kompas Minggu. [sorry for english readers…the link only in Indonesian], entitled “
Doa dan Amal Nyata” [Prayers and Deeds]
It’s hard to describe it in English. Yet, let’s say something about one of human attitude: being critical.
Once a person said, if you point your index finger to another person [with intention of blaming, accusing] in fact, three other fingers are pointing towards yourself.
I just laugh at it…
Yeah yeah...just keep on laughing.

It’s the same when Jesus told the high priests that any of them who without sin could start throwing stones on a girl—that was just verdict for being mischief.

But it is much easier to point others, instead of ourselves.

Tell them to be serious, work hard, don’t be lazy, be on time, don’t worry too much, be happy, don’t fight others, stop arguing, no need to be envy, love your enemies, control your diet, spend more time with your love ones, embrace your life, seize the day, etc…
Yet out of those, how many do I really practice in my life?
It’s going to be my longest writing, in my blog history.

In short…

Do you believe in God?
Do I actually believe in Him?
Have I really confused Him and my thoughts?

…a never ending criticism.

all I want is:
to be Happy…sincerely Happy

Saturday, February 26, 2005

It's the Tunas twin sisters' birthday.

Monday, February 21, 2005

to be a mockingbird

It's an old novel by Harper Lee, entitled To Kill a Mockingbird.
a book that I felt sad when I finished it.

beautiful and enchanting, where little kids teach you more about prejudices and mindsets.

just like Little Prince.

...and I wish I was six again...

Thursday, February 17, 2005


Sometimes when a person needs someone to talk with, there’s noone.
Then, don’t talk.
Blame noone.
It’s time to meditate


Email from Wolfgang, one of most expected emails in my mailbox.

…, how about coming here this summer so that I can show you around? I could make two weeks free and show you some nice places (apart from Heidelberg, which is cute but becomes boring soon for sightseers) and landscapes. And the Netherlands would certainly also be very happy to see you again.

As all Christians say: “Amen!”
Und Wolfgang, sind Sie immer mehr als das Willkommen, zum Ihrer Anzeigen in meinem blog!

Sunday, February 13, 2005

Vinex* in China

The former village of Anting, outside Shanghai, features "German" architecture
picture by:

[lines from TIME magazine]:
Shanghai's seven satellite cities will draw so much inspiration from Britain, Italy, Germany, Spain, Sweden, Holland and Canada that one urban planning official announced in a 2002 press circular that "foreign visitors will not be able to tell where Europe ends and China begins."

should we [Indonesian] send some of our theme housing estates developers there?
WooHoo...capitalism rules!
[Vinex is Dutch planning policy of new housing area to be developed by private company]


Coop Himmelb(l)au's modular dwelling model,
just one of many attempts to reimagine
picture by:

[TIME Magazine]:
"What is it with architects?
They all think they're specialists in the future"

judgement is for you to take, lucky enough I am not 'only' architect...enjoy!

Thursday, February 10, 2005

an art megaproject

The Gates, Central Park, New York 1979-2005
Drawing 2004 In two parts: 38 x 244 cm and 106.6 x 244 cm
Pencil, charcoal, pastel, wax crayon, fabric sample, aerial photograph, tape and hand-drawn technical data.
Photo: Wolfgang Volz

Just got this info from my dear Sphinxku, a newyorker with hip hairstyle ;)

The Gates
Project for Central Park, New York City
Christo and Jeanne-Claude
short description from the site:

For those who will walk through The Gates,
following the walkways, and staying away from the grass,
The Gates will be a golden ceiling creating warm shadows.
When seen from the buildings surrounding Central Park,
The Gates will seem like a golden river appearing and
disappearing through the bare branches of the trees
and will highlight the shape of the footpaths.

Nicky, if you read this, you should go there...!
I believe you'll make nice photos!
Wishing to be there too...

Friday, February 04, 2005

breathe again

3 days in a row I stayed overnite at office,
my weird story yesterday was just a short dream as response to my strange sleeping time.
This coming Monday I should present intern report of newtown project in Samarinda.
Obsessive Compulsive?
cant be!
I just don't like seeing untidy drawing, so I did some editing here and there of Dimas' works...
today finally I've finished the powerpoint.
Just have to convert it to PDF, before hand it to be printed out.
Talk for quite a long conversation with Olive on the phone
She'll get married tomorrow, with Andre of course.
I remember...funny stories behind their romance
I will just indulge myself in lazy time tomorrow~

Thursday, February 03, 2005

Just read

Dinner was ready, beefsteak for everyone.
We were about to eat, when couples of men in black suit walked in.
They were people from government.

we are looking for something

My Mom stood up, followed by others they walked into next room.
I was pissed off, I was starving to death.
When I joined them into that room, those men in black were tracing every inch of that room.
I complained that I was hungry by saying the food was getting cold

let Wati finish them, she used to do that

I was like, ‘What?!?!’
Whatever, I’m starving, you guys can stay here, I’ll finish my food.

Strange enough with my Mom’s attitude, I even could know what they were looking of.

Before heading back to dining room, I stopped by my sister’s office.
I stepped into that spacious, air-conditioned and fully designed room.
Olive was inside, looked annoyed. Her pregnant colleague was there, too,
on her table stood a tiny doll in white dress and long black hair.

I picked it up, and straight to where all the people were.
Saying nothing, I handed it to those men and straight to my beefsteak.

All I remembered they looked puzzled.

I don’t care.
Maybe that doll contained something inside.


My bike ran fast.
I was on the street, it was empty, only two or three cars passed by.
If Makassar keep like this, I won’t miss Delft at all
I met a doctor with his wife, they were cycling, too.
His wife’s bicycle was red, must be new.
They rode slowly.

Ring ring.

The wife signed the Doctor that I wanted to pass.
I smiled to them and speeded up my bike.

Up to Jampea.
Strangely the street was uphill.

Let’s try..
I jumped and push my bike instead.

Everywhere streets were empty
Not many cars, only people walking and cycling.
Must because the sunny day.
It was particularly nice day.

The yellow building that was pub on Jampea was transformed.
In front of it, a box of ‘item for sale’ stood unattended.
Three afro girls were choosing some goodies from that box.
Later on I know they had a friend called Milo, a tall Afro boy, looks like an MTV VJ.

I peeked into that ex-Pub.
It was redecorated.
The wall was painted purple.
On the ceiling, there was an African ornament with shape of several men hanging on each other.
Colourful African paintings hanged on purple wall.
Not much windows, only two opened to their neighbour's frontyard.
All I remember, this room was used for billiard before.
It became special. I always like African ornament and colours.

Do you love to hang-out?
One of those three girls talked to me.
In the pub, you mean?
I’m fine with it.

She looked very young.
How old are you anyway?

Oh, too bad, no visitors below 17 allowed in any pubs here.
Her friends agreed with me.

I said goodbye, see you later.

Riding my bike downhill heading home.
Passing some of my neighbours were sitting in front of their house.
The air was clean,
I enjoyed my ride
If Makassar keep like this, I will never miss Delft.

beep beep…
my mobile phone rang.
Must be my alarm clock.
I still have to finish my intern report.
Woke up briskly, went to toilet.
What a strange dream…
Makassar, without many cars?
People on bicycles?

What is all about with my Mom’s strange attitude.
I smiled.
Turned on my computer.
Continue my work now.

If only…

Thus, I still miss Delft