after some months away for academic reason, we’re finally back on track! now we have our office on CJG 48, Buah Batu, Bandung. a cozy attic in the upper floor of a pharmacy store. you can visit us anytime if you want :)

also we launched our own web! just click the title and visit us online!

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happy belated birthday, Vidour.

ada banyak hal yang membuat saya bersyukur bisa menjadi saya yang sekarang ini. lebih banyak dari hal-hal yang diam-diam saya masukkan ke dalam daftar hitam, yang saya klaim telah mengajarkan saya tentang segala sesuatu yang tak layak ada, jika kamu mengerti maksud saya.

ya sayang, saya memang terlalu banyak berpikir. bank data dalam benak saya telah melebihi kapasitasnya. tenang saja, beerapa telah saya simpan di bank data dunia maya untuk dilupakan sementara. akan saya unduh kembali ketika saatnya tiba.

setiap individu punya peran masing-masing, yang akan masing-masing sadari ketika sudah berada dalam peran tersebut. life is finding, one says. mungkin peran saya bukan seorang yang memutuskan ide itu baik atau tidak, pun bukan seseorang yang menjadi kiblat estetika, yang dipuji dari bagaimana ia meletakkan benda dalam grid imajiner yang direka-reka. bukan juga seseorang yang menikmati terbawa arus, yang membiarkan segalanya mengalir, dan hanya menjadi kerikil yang lama-lama tergerus menjadi pasir. simply not me.

bukan seorang yang secara instan dapat menjadi contoh, saya ingatkan kamu sekali lagi. dan pun saya bersyukur tidak mudah menjadikan seseorang sebagai contoh instan, yang akan saya acuhkan ketika trennya sudah usang.

“karena ditahtakan adalah diperbudak,” -Kahlil Gibran, Dunia yang Sempurna. (beratus-ratus kali saya kutip, karena beratus-ratus kali saya tak bisa tak sepaham).

dan saya kerap bermasalah dalam menjadi seseorang di bawah perintah.

;)

thereisafish:

You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.

And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.

And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.

And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.

• Aaron Freeman

(Source: NPR, via loveyourchaos)

someone broke my faith on him. so painful that I cannot resist the logical decision to get rid of it. it might be you. it might be another you who even not bother to read this. or someone who ain’t even exist. yep, the third one is nearly possible.

because you, now, are not exist in my life anymore.

“friends don’t break up, yes, indeed. so if they do, they never were.”

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dull.