CopyPaste: My Online Scrapbook (blog formerly known as 'Helpless Attempt to be a Writer')

Kemaren2 Dina-Atas abis kedatengan bekas temen sma-nya dulu, Didiet. Untuk satu alasan yang pertamanya dirahasiain ke aku, Dina ngenalin aku ke dia. Anaknya sih pas ngeliat pertama beneran super jayus, tapi ternyata pas udah rada lama ngobrol2 tentang sebuah subyek yang kita sama2 kenal, akhirnya mulai pudar kesan jayusnya.

Anyway, pas malem terakhirnya Didiet disini dia sempet nge-interogasi aku abis2an ttg the subject of old relationship. Setelah sesi yang berlangsung selama sekitar 3 jam (pake diselingin sama cerita2 dari Didiet juga sih..) akhirnya ada rasa yang muncul dari situ: dimengerti. Bahkan lebih dari itu, Didiet juga bisa ngasih sisi lain dari sebuah pengalaman yang sempat melewati hidupku. Wah.. mungkin klo dulu udah kenal Didiet, ceritanya bakal jadi lain ya? Setidaknya bakal ada orang yang ngasih tau aku untuk bersabar dan mencoba cara lain utk mendekati sebuah masalah. Tapi kayaknya enggak gitu ya caranya?

Maksudnya, kan ya kita sendiri yang harus berusaha untuk mencapai penyelesaian suatu masalah, iya enggak? Lha terus klo dikasih tau setiap waktu, kapan bisa majunya? Yah, tapi walopun begitu, Didiet bisa ngasih tau apa yang salah dari apa yang aku lakuin dan apa yang bisa dibenerin klo satu waktu nanti ketemu sama hal yang sama [walopun sebenernya aku enggak berharap sih ketemu hal yang sama.. :S:S]. Akhir malam itu, satu hikmah yang bisa diambil adalah betapa pentingnya mendengar sisi lain sebuah cerita.

Hmm.. aku rada menyesal sih kenapa aku enggak bisa lebih sabar waktu itu, tapi aku ragu juga klo misalnya keadaan masih sama, itu sebenernya apa yang aku mauin atau cuman karena dari kebiasaan sih?

Eugh.. aku sebel banget deh ama diriku sendiri klo udah masalah PDKT ama orang yg aku senengin. Baru-baru ini aja aku naksir ama seorang cowok, yang 'ketemu' di...Friendster (duh, menyedihkannya hidup yang aku jalanin..). Dari apa yg tak liat sih, he seems to be the perfect breed of male species yang aku pengen2in (walopun menurut a close friend of mine aku lagi ngalamin some sort of phase, gara2 dia heran kenapa aku bisa naksir ama itu cowok). Ah-hum.. setelah perbincangan yg cukup lama dgn temen deketku itu dan beberapa temen deket disini, konklusinya sama, mereka encourage aku untuk make a move. Soalnya gimana dia bisa tau klo aku enggak make a move.

Dari dulu sampe sekarang, aku enggak pernah pe-de utk membuat move pertama kali. I'm not born to be the first-move-type of girl nor born with the advantage that would allow me to be a first-move-type of girl, jadi maksudnya: kayaknya cewek2 yang cakep, manis, imut2 lebih punya advantage utk jadi first-move type of girl deh. Mana yg mo dideketin tuh seem to be such a perfect creature lagi.. well, not look-wise sih, cuman brain-wise, pokoknya jaid tambah enggak pe-de, at all. Tapi, daripada dirundung rasa penasaran yang tanpa akhir, yah.. akhirnya tak imilin deh cowok itu.

Hmm.. pdkt di dunia normal aja udah super susah buat aku, apalagi ini ke seseorang yang belum pernah kenal dan belum pernah ketemu. Ngomong pun blm pernah... (hmm, kenapa aku jadi merasa keraguan temenku akan 'kenapa aku bisa naksir ama cowok ini' serasa bener ya? Maksudnya, gimana coba aku bisa naksir ama dia?), trus apa yang mo ditulis di imil??

Terpaksalah bala-bantuan dalam bentuk temen2 cewek yang lebih profesional dalam ber-pdkt (di dunia maya maupun nyata) dipanggil. Dan ternyata emang bener, dari berbagai sudutpun, kemampuan ber-pdkt-ku berada jauh di bawah rata-rata. Dilihat dari pertamanya sih, sepertinya itu kemampuan yang dateng dari sananya. Tapi klo diliat2 lagi prosedurnya, kok kayaknya kemampuan ber-pdkt itu lebih ke arah 'semakin diasah, semakin tajam' ya?

Akhirnya sih, setelah msn messenger conference yg dihadiri oleh 4 orang (incl. moi) kita sampe pada imil yg isinya standar banget: hi, aku ini temennya si ini, oh kmu seneng ini juga ya?, aku juga sih.., etc etc, dan terakhirnya: klo lagi ngerjain tesis, sukses juga ya..

Ketika besoknya dapet imil balesan, aku masih bingung juga gimana ya cara mbalesnya? Akhirnya imil keduaku itu dibantu ditulis oleh Nina, walopun sebenernya aku yang lebih pantes dapet jabatan 'Asisten Penulis Skenario' dibanding dia. Waduh, kok masih belum terasah juga ya kemampuan ini?

Ketika imil balesan dateng lagi, kini giliran Dina yang waktu itu ketiban apes utk mbantuin nulis imil. Sebenernya sih waktu itu aku udah mo nulis sendiri, cuman kok ngerasa masih belum pede dan butuh proof reader ya?

Sebenernya, rada ngerasa geli juga sih, soalnya end result e-mail itu tuh juga standar banget dan enggak berisi sesuatu yang spesial atau flirtatious (masih testing the water nih!), tapi kita tuh bernegosiasi dan berunding udah sekelas perundingan damai Timur Tengah deh..

Sekarang imil balesan udah dateng lagi dan tadi berusaha mo mbales, tapi masih tetep ngerasa belum pede sama apa yang aku tulis. [Ples, gimana bisa pede klo orangnya udah ngomong ttg pengen sekolah di MIT? :(]

Aku tau ada beberapa hal yang mungkin aku tau dan orang lain enggak tau, tapi gimana ya membungkus hal itu jadi sesuatu yang menarik, dus membuat aku terlihat seperti seseorang yang pinter dan menarik [menarik karakteristiknya mksdnya, bukan penampilan :)] dan kapan aku bisa naruh petunjuk2?

Dari hasil tes2 IQ yang dulu dijalanin, pola yang selalu keluar terus-menerus dari aku sih selalu tentang bagaimana aku enggak segitu 'lancar' dlm bersosialisasi. Dan inilah salah satu refleksi kurangnya kemampuan itu. Ada enggak sih orang lain yg kayak aku? Hmm.. aku berharapnya sih ada guideline utk ber-pdkt bagi orang2 yang 'social IQ'-nya berada di level yang sama kayak aku.

Aku rasa cukup normal sih, klo kita selalu awkward dan salah tingkah di hadapan orang baru, apalagi orang barunya ini seseorang yang kita senengin dan kita berharap bisa disenengin sama orang itu. Tapi, eugh.. nyebelin banget deh kalo kita enggak bisa cuek2 aja dan act normally, plus terliat sbg seseorang yg fabulous. Waduh, mintanya kebanyakan ya?

Anyway, hanya bertanya2 dalam hati, ada gk sih sebenernya general guideline utk ber-pdkt itu?

"Tru dat" article, here.

Hari ini dimulai dengan sesi konsultasi bersama Craig, yang berakibat dengan aku merasa bener2 depressed dgn kondisi tesisku. Sebenernya enggak ada masalah sih, Craig merasa cukup positif krn aku udah berhasil ngerjain tugas2 yg dia kasih dari pertemuan sebelumnya. Jadi, aku sudah memiliki kemajuan dlm mengerjakan tesis.

Tapi, keluar dari sesi konsultasi itu, aku jadi merasa kalau masih ada hal2 yg hilang dari tesis, apa yg tadi aku omongin ke Craig serasa enggak nyambung dan enggak ada intinya. Kayak kerasa aja, pada satu poin, aku dan dia sama2 ngerasa "So?" setelah aku menjelaskan panjang lebar ttg suatu hal yg terjadi pas wawancara kemaren sama CCC.

Habis keluar dari kantornya Craig, eh ketemu Atas, dia ternyata lagi sibuk mbantuin Willy (menunjukkan betapa amatirnya tesisku dibanding dia yg jadi 'business partner'nya Willy dan mbantuin research sekaliber level PhD). Dari situ, aku rada curhat2 sih, tesisku begini, tesisku begitu, aku sedih, aku bete, aku.., aku.., aku. Teringat, trus lgs bertanya: lho.. kmu ngapain tas? Ternyata dia mo makan tapi lupa bawa pin, jadi aku nyaranin kita ke bawah aja, dia pake pin-ku. Udah pas di bawah, kita bercerita2 lah ttg tesisku (lagi2 aku). Aku tapi nanya2 juga kok sama kerjaannya dia sama Willy gimana, trus ngomong juga ke Atas klo aku baru hari ini ngerti se-hebat apakah kerja bareng Willy itu buat sebuah tesis, enggak heran kenapa Jessa kemaren malem nyebut2in itu terus.

Atas trus mbantuin aku, ngasih feedback2 buat pertanyaan lebih lanjut yg mo tak tanyain ke Jupijn dari CCC. Hmm.. banyak ternyata hal2 yg dikasih tau, sesuatu yang mungkin tidak aku pikirkan sebelumnya klo enggak diingetin.

Kembali ke depan komputer, mencoba kembali bekerja di tesis.

Hmm.. karena itu pertama kalinya ngecek internet hari ini, trus rutin dululah, ngecek2 imil, mbaca2 The Guardian, ngecek Friendster krn ada testimonial baru (WOO-HOO!!). Imil.. nothing new, masih ada debat politik yg terus berlanjut di milisnya moskee; trus imil pribadi, enggak ada yg menarik; The Guardian, tiba2 jadi ngerasa males mbaca. Jadi ngerasa klo otaknya serasa penuh banget trus diisi lagi dengan bacaan2 baru. Akhirnya muter2 dulu, nyari sesuatu yg cukup ringan untuk dicuekin tapi juga tetep membuat otak aktif.

Muter, muter, muter, entah kenapa jadi mampir di Kompas. Mbaca2 berita, liat foto2 kampanye, eh ternyata.. websitenya Kompas sekarang jadi lengkap banget, sampe kolom2nya, komik2nya dimasukin ke websitenya. Mbaca2 Timun, Konpopilan, Panji Koming sebentar, trus nemu artikel ttg pementasan teater E La Galigo di Singapore. Pada saat bersamaan, lagi browsing2 juga ke websitenya Time Asia, dan ada juga cerita ttg E La Galigo ini.

E La Galigo sendiri katanya adalah sebuah naskah kuno asalnya dari Indonesia, Bugis tepatnya, yang bahkan lebih panjang daripada Iliad-Odissey-nya Homer. Pementasannya disutradarai oleh Robert Wilson, seseorang yang bukan main2. Aku sampe jadi penasaran sendiri gimana spektakulernya sih pertunjukan ini. Berita bagus buat yang ada di Amsterdam, sempet mbaca di artikelnya Kompas klo E La Galigo akan dibawa ke Amsterdam. Ngecek di websitenya Robert Wilson, ternyata E La Galigo bakal main di Het Muziektheater tgl 12, 14, dan 15 May 2004. Klo beli tiketnya pake CJP, bisa dapet yg EUR 12.50.

Dari situ, enggak tau kenapa jalan2 ke The Jakarta Post. Hmm.. jadi membayangkan, aku mungkin punya kesempatan yah jadi pop culture columnist buat koran itu. Maksudnya, aku kayaknya lebih lancar dan 'witty' nulis pake bhs Inggris deh (menyedihkan enggak sih?) dan gaya penulisan, anekdot, lelucon, dst.. kayaknya lebih familiar buat English speaking people daripada orang Indonesia. Jadi inget, temennya Prasma, si penulis naskah berbakat itu juga kerja di The Jakarta Post. Ada beberapa orang yg hidupnya memang harus diirikan yah?

Hmm.. jadi membayangkan hidup sebagai kolumnisnya 'The Jakarta Post'. Pada poin ini, aku cuman bisa membayangkan bagaimana hebatnya kenyataan itu, tanpa mengetahui bagaimana mencapai kenyataan itu. Cek Poin 1 dlm Tidak Menjadi Diri Sendiri: Nari, kolumnis The Jakarta Post.

Kembali ke artikel Kompas, terus menemukan artikel lain ttg buku2 yg sekarang dibuat setelah filmnya keluar, film2 Indonesia sih banyaknya. Biola tak Berdawai, trus 30 Hari Mencari Cinta, dan salah satu komentar yg dikutip datang dari seseorang di Institut Kesenian Jakarta, Fakultas Film dan Televisi. Langsung cepet2 ke Google, nyari IKJ, mengharapkan website lengkapnya IKJ trus ada bagian yg menuju ke FFTV. Eh ternyata... malah lebih gampang nemu FFTV dibanding IKJ. Browsing2 lah aku mencari kurikulum, jurusan2 yg ditawarkan, staf pengajar, dan boleh dibilang: AIR LIUR UDAH NETES2 GK KARUAN PAS MBACA ITU. Hmm.. aku membayagnkan kuliah lagi disitu, diajar ama Seno Gumira ttg apresiasi film, dst. Nah, Cek Poin 2 dlm Tidak Menjadi Diri Sendiri: Nari, mahasiswi IKJ jurusan FFTV.

Trus dari mana ya? Tiba2 berkunjung ke IMDB dan menemukan Chuck Palahniuk, membaca forumnya, trus menemukan kutipan yg lebih lengkap dari 'Guts'. Dari situ browsing2 ke transkrip chat-nya Chuck Palahniuk di The Guardian, dan menemukan bahwa cerita2 di Guts itu beneran terjadi. Enggak tau gimana, jadi pergi lagi ke Google, nyari Chuck Palahniuk dan menemukan site resminya yang keren grafisnya (link udah dimasukin di daftar link, bagian kiri tangan).

Enggak tau gimana, mungkin menggunakan Hukum Mencari Sesuatu yg Berbanding Terbalik, jadi mencari sesuatu ttg Abdurrahman Faiz. Pas mbaca artikel itu, jadi bener2 ngerasa sengsara dan di saat yg bersamaan terkagum-kagum. Berangkat dari Chuck Palahniuk dan berakhir di Abdurrahman Faiz, aku jadi bisa menghargai betapa Chuck Palahniuk bisa begitu tajam memberi komentar sosial dan bersamaan terpengaruh oleh kemanusiaan yang semakin amoral, dan terkagum2 pada bagaimana sederhana dan bersihnya Faiz. Tiba2 jadi berpikir, dimanakah aku dalam skala itu?

Tapi dari mencari2 site-nya Abdurrahman Faiz, jadi malah ketemu websitenya Abdurrahman yg lain. Yang ini Wahid. Seriuuuuss..!! Terformat secara bagus pula. Dan tiba2 jadi teringat, sore2 dingin2 begini, sedikit hujan, sorenya sama seperti sore2 di Yogya klo hujan dan dingin. Sambil ndengerin lagu yang tipikal sesuatu yg bakal aku dengerin pas SMU, jadi ngerasa dipindah balik ke Yogya. Pas mencari tau ttg politik adalah sesuatu yg masih pingin dilakukan, pas sore2 dingin di Yogya mengingatkan waktu utk mulai masuk ruang belajar, hal2 yg harus dilakukan, sekolah besok, ketemu temen2. Hmm, jadi pengen balik ke masa itu deh. Masuk ke Cek Poin 3 dlm Tidak Menjadi Diri Sendiri: Nari, kembali ke SMU dan tidak mengalami semua kebingungan ngerjain tesis.

Otomatis, masuk ke Cek Poin 4 dlm Tidak Menjadi Diri Sendiri: Nari, memiliki cowok yg perhatian dgn kadar yg tepat.
Cek Poin 5 dlm Tidak Menjadi Diri Sendiri: Nari, saat ini memiliki partner diskusi untuk ngomongin segala hal. Oh, yg terakhir itu kayaknya yang paling mengena. Pengen seseorang yg bisa bercakap2 dan membalas scr normal. Pengen seseorang yg bisa mbantu 'unload'.

Officially, that is what I have become..
It's just so awfuuulll!!

Ceritanya begini:
Aku baru sadar kebiasaan baruku klo pas weekend di rumah, pas gk ada komputer atau internet, dan cuman nonton tivi aja. Tiba-tiba adaaaaaa aja sesuatu yg membuat aku curious dan pengen tau lebih banyak, jadilah aku lari2 nyari kertas dan bolpen utk menuliskan apa yg aku pikirin atau aku pengen tau buat dicari hari Senin nanti pas kembali di depan komputer dan internet.

Nah, so far.. sounds normal?

Oke.. tapi aku heran aja, betapa banyak hal yg aku tulis di kertas2 itu, dan itu buat sesuatu yg mungkin sebenernya enggak terlalu penting. Dan klo misalnya itu enggak dicatet, pasti trus 5 menit kemudian udah lupa lagi, and it will be a seven year itch (or maybe more). Kemaren weekend, ending up aku punya 2 kertas, satu kertas Sabtu, dan satu kertas Minggu.

I used to not care about ALL things. I used to not have these papers. I used to not need these papers. Dan walopun aku udah nulis hal2 yg aku pengen tau lebih dalem di kertas2 itu, tetep aja masih ada aja this great urge utk knowing things. Isn't it crazy?

Why do I want to know these things?
Why is it important?
it's not like.. ketika aku tau ini, trus other people would want to know as well. Not that much people would ask about it.

Aku ngerasa kepalaku terlalu penuh dengan banyak hal yg sebenernya enggak gitu perlu, tapi klo enggak dicari, itu bakal haunt me for the rest of my life. So I'm looking for a way to not care that much, but so far I haven't succeed.

Mungkin ini gunanya punya blog kali yah? So I can share some of the things that I have been thinking (like mad) and pour it to some certain medium. It does help a little, it can help me unload my burden and allowing space for something else that is more useful, like my thesis for example.

Tapi so far, aku masih aja scribbling furiously with those papers. Just wish me luck with it.

The learning curve

Chris, a student, shows considerable talent as an author of historical fiction - to the chagrin of his teacher. In this exclusive extract from her new novel, The Finishing School, Muriel Spark takes a satirical look at creative writing in the classroom and reflects on the potency of literary envy

Saturday February 21, 2004
The Guardian

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"You begin," he said, "by setting your scene. You have to see your scene, either in reality or in imagination. For instance, from here you can see across the lake. But on a day like this you can't see across the lake, it's too misty. You can't see the other side." Rowland took off his reading glasses to stare at his creative-writing class, whose parents' money was being thus spent: two boys and three girls around 16 to 17 years of age, some more, some a little less. "So," he said, "you must just write, when you set your scene, 'the other side of the lake was hidden in mist'. Or if you want to exercise imagination, on a day like today, you can write, 'The other side of the lake was just visible.' But as you are setting the scene, don't make any emphasis as yet. It's too soon, for instance, for you to write, 'The other side of the lake was hidden in the fucking mist.' That will come later. You are setting your scene. You don't want to make a point as yet."
College Sunrise had begun in Brussels, a finishing school for both sexes and mixed nationalities. It was founded by Rowland Mahler, assisted by his wife, Nina Parker.

The school had flourished on 10 pupils aged 16 and upwards, but in spite of this flourishing, mainly by reputation, Rowland had barely been able to square the books at the end of the first year. So he moved the school to Vienna, increased the fees, wrote to the parents that he and Nina were making an exciting experiment: College Sunrise was to be a mobile school which would move somewhere new every year.

They had moved, leaving commendably few debts behind, from Vienna to Lausanne the next year. At present they had nine students at College Sunrise at Ouchy on the lake. Rowland had just taken the very popular class, attended by five of the students, on creative writing. Rowland was now 29, Nina 26. Rowland himself hoped to be a published novelist one day. To conserve his literary strength, as he put it, he left nearly all the office work to Nina, who spoke good French and was dealing with the bureaucratic side of the school and with the parents, employing a kind of impressive carelessness. She tended to crush any demands for full explanations on the part of the parents. This attitude, strangely enough, generally made them feel they were getting good money's worth. And she had always obtained a tentative licence to run the school, which could be stretched to last over the months before they would move on again.

It was early July, but not summery. The sky bulged, pregnant with water. The lake had been invisible under the mist for some days.

Rowland looked out of the wide window of the room where he taught, and saw three of the pupils who had just attended his class, leaving the house, disappearing into the mist. Those three were Chris Wiley, Lionel Flaas and Pansy Leghorn (known as Leg).

Chris: 17, a student at College Sunrise at his own request. "I can do university later." And now? "I want to write my novel. It struck me that College Sunrise was ideal for that." Rowland remembered that first interview with red-haired Chris with his mother and uncle. There was no father visible. They seemed to be well off and perfectly persuaded to Chris's point of view. Rowland took him on. He had always, so far, taken everyone on who applied for entrance to College Sunrise, the result of which policy helped to give the school an experimental and tolerant tone.

But we come back to Chris as he and his two friends were watched from the window by Rowland: of all the pupils Chris caused Rowland the most disquiet. He was writing a novel, yes. Rowland, too, was writing a novel, and he wasn't going to say how good he thought Chris was. A faint twinge of that jealousy which was to mastermind Rowland's coming months, growing in intensity small hour by hour, seized Rowland as he looked. What was Chris talking about to the two others? Was he discussing the lesson he had just left? Rowland wanted greatly to enter Chris's mind. He was ostensibly a close warm friend of Chris's - and in a way it was a true friendship. Where did Chris get his talent? He was self-assured. "You know, Chris," Rowland had said, "I don't think you're on the right lines. You might scrap it and start again."

"When it's finished," said Chris, "I could scrap it and start again. Not before I've finished the novel, though."

"Why?" said Rowland.

"I want to see what I write."

College Sunrise could not in any way compete with the famous schools and finishing establishments recommended by Gabbitas, Thring and Wingate in shiny coloured brochures. Indeed, College Sunrise was almost unknown in the more distinctive educational circles, and in cases where it was known, it was frequently dismissed as being rather shady. The fact that it moved house from time to time, that it seldom offered a tennis court and that its various swimming pools looked greasy, was the subject of gossip when the subject arose, but it was known that there had so far been no sexual scandals and that it was an advanced sort of school, bohemian, artistic, tolerant. What they smoked or sniffed was little different from the drug-taking habits of any other school, whether it be housed in Lausanne or in a street in Wakefield.

With a total of eight paying students Nina and Rowland could just manage to cope and make a small profit. They employed a maid and a cook, a French teacher who was also Rowland's secretary, and a good-looking gardener and odd-job boy. Both Nina and Rowland aimed principally at affording Rowland the time and space and other opportunities to complete his novel, while passing their lives pleasantly. They in fact loved the school.

But the whole point of the enterprise was decidedly Rowland's novel. Nina believed in it, and in Rowland as a novelist, as much as he did himself.

Chris, as he walked with his two companions, was thinking of the letter Rowland had sent to his uncle recommending specially the creative writing class at College Sunrise: "This year's literary seminar pulls no punches investigating ideas of power and literature." Chris was fascinated by this announcement. It would not leave his mind. He had heard it before - where did it come from? Suddenly, as he was gazing into the impenetrable sheet of mist on the lake, a ray of light swung across his memory: it was the phrase used to advertise an English literary festival: in his extraordinary mind Chris remembered the brochure precisely. He felt affectionate towards Rowland, almost protective. His own sense of security was so strong as to be unnoticeable. He knew himself. He felt his talent. It was all a question of time and exercise. Because he was himself unusual, Chris perceived everyone else to be so. He could not think of people as masses except when the question of organising society arose, and that, thought Chris, should be a far simpler affair than the organisers made out. Left to themselves, people would arrange themselves in harmony. So he should be left alone to pursue... well, anything. It was a good theory. In the meantime he found his tutor, Rowland, greatly amusing. Rowland had read the two opening chapters of the novel Chris was determined to write during his terms at College Sunrise. On his second reading: "But this is quite good," Rowland had whispered, as if speechless with amazement. Chris remembered every slightest phrase of that reaction. Rowland had read it over. "Are you sure," he said then, "that you want to go on with this, or would you rather..."

"Rather what?" Rowland did not continue that line of thought. "The dialogue," he said, "how did you know about dialogue?"

"Oh, I've always read a lot."

"Oh, you read a lot, I see. For an historical novel you have to... And what, how... Do you intend to finish it?"

"Oh, fully."

"What is the story? How does it develop? Historical novels - they have to develop. How...?"

"No idea, Rowland. I can't foresee the future. All I know is the story will happen."

"And you find our creative writing classes a help, of course..."

"They're beside the point, in fact, but quite useful in many other respects."

Rowland was frightened; he felt again that stab of jealous envy, envious jealousy that he had already experienced, on touching and reading Chris's typescript.

The novel Chris was writing was further advanced in his mind than he had conveyed to Rowland. A self-protective urge mixed with a desire to gain as much as possible from the creative writing class made him adopt the pose of a fairly blank set of intentions. In fact he had a plot settled in his mind.

The subject of his story was Mary Queen of Scots, beheaded in 1587 for scheming against the life of Elizabeth I of England. She was also accused of the murder of her husband Lord Darnley, 20 years before. Many since then had believed her guilty, many innocent. There were arguments both ways, one faction claiming that Mary and some of her noble followers were party to the murder, the other holding that she was innocent: the crime had been organised by rebellious noblemen, Mary's enemies.

Chris had a third proposition, and the pith of it was this: he went back to the day when a group of Scottish noblemen, led by Darnley, broke into her room at Holyrood where she was playing cards. They murdered with their daggers David Rizzio, her secretary, musician and close friend, of whom Darnley had become exceedingly jealous. Rizzio was Italian, gifted, ambitious. His family came from Turin.

According to Chris's novel, the murder of Darnley was arranged by Rizzio's family as an act of revenge. Rizzio had brought to the Queen's court in Edinburgh his younger brother Jacopo, who was at the centre of the plot.

Chris didn't trouble to believe this theory one way or another, but he felt it would make a good story. It was to be an excitingly written novel, in addition to its originality. It was to be popular.

Leaving aside the story, of which Rowland was at present unaware, he had scrutinised the first 15 pages of Chris's book at the same time as he experienced a choking sensation. No, no, this could not be, this is good, very expert. It can't be Chris's work - the logic doesn't hold that he could set such a scene. Something will have to go wrong. Root it out, stop it. And "Oh, my God," thought Rowland, "what am I thinking?"

Chris came down to Ouchy from the town past a row of private villas, so quiet inside their gates, you would think that no one was there.

It was the fourth house in the long road that he approached with expectation. The house stood behind a long low wall. Four times, now, at varying hours, he had passed this house, and - listen - the sound of a violin the moment he appeared passing the wall, and continuing till he had passed, when the music stopped. Once he had caught sight, only a flash, of a head and shoulder at an upper window. He could not tell whether it was a man or woman, or what age the person was. It was simply that someone watched for him to pass and played a few bars of an unknown tune on the violin and then, when he had reached the end of the wall, abruptly stopped. It was getting dark. As he entered the hall of College Sunrise he heard, from Rowland's television, the familiar voice of Hazel on Sky News: "As we go through this evening and into tonight..." The weather in England was warm, scattered showers in the south-east and rain in the north of Scotland.

Chris tried to recall the few notes of the tune that was played on the violin, but the more he tried the more it escaped him. He decided to continue passing the house every day until he had resolved the question that arose. He went in search of Rowland, "who has time to sit waiting for hours at the window".

Rowland had turned down the television sound.

"Sit down," he said.

"No, I've got to get on with my novel."

"Oh, God, you'll wear yourself out. Take a night off."

hueheheh... wah akhirnya posting juga nih setelah sekian lama enggak ada kabar berita. sorry for the haiku and its abysmal-ity, ya maklum sendirilah waktu itu lagi harus ngetik 'critical review of literature' buat tesis. tapi kok ya.. pikiran nyentok and it was OSCAR NIGHT (yang ternyata rada mengecewakan klo diliat dress-wise. taun lalu malah lebih seru oyyy...).

btw..on reading updates:

waktu itu udah mbalikin bukunya Anne Tyler yg Morgan's Passing, minjem dari perpus sekolah. hmm..pikirannya masih terbagi sih ketika mbaca buku itu. dunianya serasa lain aja, dan itu bukan dunia yg 'nyaman'. pasti selalu ngerasa ada something bad will happen after this. further on Anne Tyler, nanti lagi deh. i happen to came across her name soalnya ini penulis kesenengannya Nick Hornby.

trus sekarang akhirnya mulai mbaca 'Far from the Madding Crowd'-nya Thomas Hardy. akhirnya terinspirasi utk mulai mbaca krn ada artikel di The Guardian ttg romantic comedies novel dan gimana itu sekarang derajatnya udah dianggap rendah banget, sehingga klo kita ngomong romantic comedies novel, kebayangnya cuman novel2 chick-lit aja yg ceritanya ttg cewek mencari cinta. padahal, di masa dulunya, romantic comedies novel itu termasuk novel2nya jane austen (wuekekke... cewek mencari cinta juga yah.. tapi entah kenapa kok masih ada cerita ttg society juga, plotnya juga enggak segampang itu, etc.), trus juga nge-include novel2nya the Brontes, dan Thomas Hardy. wah.. jadi terinspirasi lagi deh utk mulai mbaca "Far from..." yang beli 0.50 euro cent pas perpus lagi selling out.

huhuhuhhu...

so far, ada beberapa funny moments. cukup addicted utk mbaca lagi...

oh ya.. click here for the complete Guardian article on "In Defence of Romance".