Tampaknya saya benar-benar manusia yang sangat bergantung pada inspirasi. Karena dari inspirasi tersebut barulah ada dorongan untuk melakukan sesuatu. Bahkan saya bisa sangat bersemangat hanya dengan mendengar atau membaca kalimat yang bisa membuka pintu inspirasi.
Inspirasi bagi saya tidak melulu datang dari sesuatu yang positif. Hal tidak mengenakkan, seperti tekanan serta perlakuan tidak menyenangkan lainnya juga turut memberi andil dalam memberi saya inspirasi.
Beruntunglah saya diberi banyak keran inspirasi.
Minggu, 24 Februari 2013
Jumat, 15 Februari 2013
The Guest.
Regardless of the loss, the meteor falls in Russia is the most amazing phenomenon that I've ever seen. It give me the creeps when I saw the video record in TV. Not because scared, but amazed.
Makes me realize that in this very crowded world, the world itself actually lonely.
On the darkness of infinite space, there's a dot. Event smaller.
That's earth.
And in one of her ancient movement, guests come.
Makes me want to quote Carl Sagan famous writing, the pale blue dot.
“Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot.
Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.
It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.”
― Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space
Makes me realize that in this very crowded world, the world itself actually lonely.
On the darkness of infinite space, there's a dot. Event smaller.
That's earth.
And in one of her ancient movement, guests come.
Makes me want to quote Carl Sagan famous writing, the pale blue dot.
“Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot.
Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.
It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.”
― Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space
Senin, 11 Februari 2013
Happiness is a warm gun
I love my job.
Really.
At the beginning, I doubt myself again and again. I felt like taking wrong decision, losing in translation. I felt like fighting for something that I don't understand.
What is the purpose of this battle?
People talking about anything. Anything that I never heard off. I laugh when they laugh, acting like I feel the same way.
My job is one hell of a job. Just like reinforcements, I need to backed up when things getting hot. To make things short, when something bad happens that's when I come in. Sometimes in the middle of the night, in the deepest sleep, the phone ringing.
At that point you know shit happens, the battle just began.
Someone somewhere needs your help. And you don't even know what you're going to do.
You can't call any backup, You're the backup.
Months of struggling. Struggle after struggle, lost after lost. You learning to lick your wound. You beginning to realize that's something bad, was not so bad anymore. Shit happens, became things happens.
In the middle of this battle, you starting to predict your enemy movement, you starting to read the core strategy. You know you're not strong enough yet to face the most ferocious enemy. But you understand the battlefield more. You know when and where you attempt an ambush. How high your line is.
And when wave of enemy come in to your direction.
You shoot them.
Bang !
Bang!
Again and again. You keep shooting.
Bang!
Bang!
Your last shot repelled the enemy. You feel that glorious feeling, boost your morality to the highest level.
You share your triumph with your companion.
And in the way back to your home, you held your gun close to your chest. The gun that saved your life. It's still warm.Warm enough to make you feel safe way back home.
You know the enemy will keep coming, will keep haunting your sleep.
But for now you want to throw away all worries. Deep down inside you feel happy.
Cause, happiness is a warm gun.
Really.
At the beginning, I doubt myself again and again. I felt like taking wrong decision, losing in translation. I felt like fighting for something that I don't understand.
What is the purpose of this battle?
People talking about anything. Anything that I never heard off. I laugh when they laugh, acting like I feel the same way.
My job is one hell of a job. Just like reinforcements, I need to backed up when things getting hot. To make things short, when something bad happens that's when I come in. Sometimes in the middle of the night, in the deepest sleep, the phone ringing.
At that point you know shit happens, the battle just began.
Someone somewhere needs your help. And you don't even know what you're going to do.
You can't call any backup, You're the backup.
Months of struggling. Struggle after struggle, lost after lost. You learning to lick your wound. You beginning to realize that's something bad, was not so bad anymore. Shit happens, became things happens.
In the middle of this battle, you starting to predict your enemy movement, you starting to read the core strategy. You know you're not strong enough yet to face the most ferocious enemy. But you understand the battlefield more. You know when and where you attempt an ambush. How high your line is.
And when wave of enemy come in to your direction.
You shoot them.
Bang !
Bang!
Again and again. You keep shooting.
Bang!
Bang!
Your last shot repelled the enemy. You feel that glorious feeling, boost your morality to the highest level.
You share your triumph with your companion.
And in the way back to your home, you held your gun close to your chest. The gun that saved your life. It's still warm.Warm enough to make you feel safe way back home.
You know the enemy will keep coming, will keep haunting your sleep.
But for now you want to throw away all worries. Deep down inside you feel happy.
Cause, happiness is a warm gun.
Rabu, 06 Februari 2013
Young Poet
Young poet who can not sleep.
Rest your head in your words, spill the sadness in each verse.
Young poet hurts to feel the world around them, their war started, your war ended.
Young poet believes in every disturbance, each tremble in your heart will guide your hands.
Kiss me in the darkest night
Touch me with your sad poems and make your pen bleed for me until everything is finished.
And make your pen bleed for me until everything has started.
Young poet who sees pass the time, the sun and moon,
anger and calm,
anger and calm.
Young poet who loves life, rest your soul and come back tomorrow, and come back tomorrow.
Rest your head in your words, spill the sadness in each verse.
Young poet hurts to feel the world around them, their war started, your war ended.
Young poet believes in every disturbance, each tremble in your heart will guide your hands.
Kiss me in the darkest night
Touch me with your sad poems and make your pen bleed for me until everything is finished.
And make your pen bleed for me until everything has started.
Young poet who sees pass the time, the sun and moon,
anger and calm,
anger and calm.
Young poet who loves life, rest your soul and come back tomorrow, and come back tomorrow.
Senin, 04 Februari 2013
Paperman
I hope there will be a story about ITman.
curlyman
not-so-tough-man
unmatureman
But for now, let we enjoy
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