Thursday, August 31, 2017

[DRAFT] Will

(written 22/3/15, edited just now. Just so it's out there.)

There are times when I looked at cats or dogs and started to wonder why do I do things I do. Why am I busy with assignments, trying to graduate college, trying to have more money. Functioning in society. Whatever thing else. Who decide that I have to live my life this way? Why don't I do things other creatures do?

Even somewhere out there, another human being is leading their life with concerns that are nothing like mine too. They do things that I don't do too. But why do I? Why do I do these things? Most of the things I do are things that I can't help but do--because this is where I was born; because this is the family I'm raised from; because these are the friends that I made; because this is my name; because those are the people I met; because these are things I learnt; because these are things that come across my life; so on and so on. That's why I have to go to school. That's why I can climb trees. That's why I have to wear clothes. That's why I read books. That's why I watch cartoons. That's why I love my cat. That's why I act this way.

Every single thing I do in this world is nothing but the echo of other things that I have no control over. What do I actually have control over? Even my assessments and my choices are born out of spite or because of reasons that aren't coming from myself. Even the way I think about things are shaped by things around me. Even what I feel is probably just chemical reactions of various things that made up my body. A body that constantly altered, little by little, by age, by what I ate, by what I drank, by whatever else.


But I'm here writing this. Not.. mad. Long has been gone since I accepted the fact that I'm not at all important in this universe--that I'm probably just another microscopic screw out of this grand scheme made by higher existence or something. A tiny, insignificant speck.

I just... sometimes I just want things. Sometimes I want to be a dog, a pony, a boy, anything that can fly, live underwater, I want to see dinosaurs. But I can't. I can't be a dog. I can't fly. I can't live underwater and befriend sea creatures. I can't.

I don't think any amount of working or training or praying can ever grant me any of those.

What is a free will when your will are free only for things you CAN do?

Or having this kind of feeling is free will too? Wanting things that you can't have ever. That's free will? A feeling that are response to your inability to achieve things?

Feelings? Conclusion from process of cognition? Is that it?


I don't know.

Monday, August 14, 2017

On a scale of mediocrity

I have come to a point where I don't feel bad for not updating, which is horrible. I actually do have things to say, like this post that have been a draft for more than a month (or two) but not enough willpower to finish it.


I learnt many things in my life. I mean. I did lots of things. And I think I'm quite good at most of those things.

By quite good, I just meant that I can actually do it. Which I think is quite a feat.

There are many things that I can do (just, you know, do). Sometimes I wonder if I choose just to be good at one out of those things I can do, I am probably going to be very good at it. I sometimes wonder if I do one and not the rest. I wonder if I could actually become an athlete, or an artist, or a vet, if only I choose to do things differently than I did back then.

But I actually did choose some. I choose some, and I don't do the rest anymore. But still I find that I am not particularly good at them either.

I realize that it might be just the case that in whatever I do, I might be good at it--enough for it to be good--but probably not spectacular. I don't think the current me can manage in doing spectacular in anything.

Is it because I don't practice enough? I don't study enough? Perhaps. Was it the price I paid to be able to do all of the things that I can do? Perhaps.

Still, I don't think there will be anything that I am going to be very good at.

This is quite gross but some people would argue if I said I am mediocre. My friend said that somebody would punch me if they hear me saying that I am not very smart. I want to believe in that, but it costs a lot to believe so.

It costs a lot to think that it matters if I am more than just okay--because it entails a lot of work and achievements. I am not that... ambitious? Diligent? I don't have enough energy to get there, most likely.

That is why I accept that maybe, I am not destined for greatness. I probably am mediocre. In a spectrum of mediocrity, I probably fall somewhere where my parents can brag about me, and that my friend can be happy to acknowledge that we know each other, and that some people would think I am pretty good at what I do. But it remains, that I am mediocre. And it is really nice to accept that possibility, because it brings peace to me.

It is quite different mindset, I think, to think that you are not all that special in grand scheme of things and to think you are not all that special in all things you do. The first thought I got it covered for years now, makes me a happier being (if there is any time I don't think that, or if there is any time I am not happy). The second thought--this is a little harder to be accepted.

Because sometimes I just want to be good, you know?

And it shows. I told myself it was a game. That it's fine if I don't win, but sometimes I get myself stuck with frustration when I am losing, and sometimes I resorted to blame my teammates (if I have one). Sometimes I swear when I play games--and that tells a lot about how invested I actually am when I played. And well. This is just a game. I mean, at most games I am pretty chill about losing or winning, but there are some that really hurts when I lose.

So yeah. Sometimes, even though I have come to believe that I am insignificant and pretty much everything exist in the face of earth also are, I want to be good.

But I don't. And sometimes it felt bad.

But most of the times... I guess it's not so bad. It actually felt nice sometimes, when you can only watch the game from afar and see those who are really good at it play. Amazing, even. Then you'd realize that even the reaaal good ones still lose sometimes.

So yeah!

If mediocre is what I am I guess I'll try to be pretty happy with it. After all, that's where everyone is.

Monday, May 1, 2017

Life updates

I think it was nice for social media to become a mnemonic device, keeping record of your life. It was quite random for me to see the timeline in my Instagram, but when I remember that these people (well, the non-comic account that I follow anyway) will have an idea how they spent certain period of time, I am quite jealous.


I mean, I have this blog. I keep track of things here too. Facebook used to be a place where I did it too, to certain extent. I upload a lot of pictures there. A lot of people in my life I record on Facebook. But I don't know. Sometimes I would try to see what happened to me judging by what I put on Twitter (I spent most of my time online there) but I can trace little to nothing.

That would not be too good if people were going to make a movie of me. How will they know? Thankfully I have friends. They'll provide some interesting information I guess.

Anyway, lately I have been quite busy working on essays. It was quite intense, I guess. I don't really have much else to do to the point that when I decided to give myself a break, I forgot what I usually do to waste time with my computer. It was weird. But I like the fact that I've grown and I felt that growth. I know that I am more informed now and certainly write better too. That feels great.

I remember the time when I was in high school, I really thought I have life figured out. I remember. But the reason I felt that because I really, really, have no idea how little did I know about anything.

Looking back, it was painfully obvious that the gate to my growth are mistakes. I don't really remember of being scared if I was wrong and with that said, I guess being able to make mistakes is one of the greatest privilege that I have throughout my life. It might come off as outright mean, when I thought that I hurt someone in expense of my personal growth. But it couldn't be helped. I was stupid. My ignorance was my source of evil. I just hope they too, grow better as a person as well.

While it's inevitable that you changed as you learn, I don't think it's bad to stick with whatever things that you think it's true with the current knowledge and feelings as well. The most important thing is too always be mindful that some things don't last. And it's super easy to be wrong.

I love being right. It makes me feel that I've reached a certain degree of achievement. But being wrong is important, or else I don't evolve.

I don't really want to stop evolving, but evolving does not always feels good--not when things surrounding you don't grow with you. Thus evolving is scary sometimes. Because at times, you'd be walking the road by yourself. I am up with this path of solitude, I guess, but who would know whether I'm actually evolving into a better existence?


Oh, and I realized something. It's really funny because my comics usually don't really have any identity politics in it. This means that regardless they are girls (well, they are girls) (uh, mostly girls), or boys, or adult, or child, the substance won't change. It does not matter. It's actually one of the writings that I am interested in reading--a form of entertainment where who you are does not matter. I didn't have this aim in mind, but that's what I ended up writing anyway. (Plus, it was just 2-3 panels, it's usually just pointless conversation).

But! I realized that some DO have identity politics in it, and apparently it was the boys that carried out those identity politics. I don't even realize that! I didn't think about any of this when I make it. It's super interesting I think, because in regards to gender identity politics, females are usually easier or more common to convey this, since in this patriarchal society they are exposed to more obvious oppression.

As an easier comparison, it's really easy to see in many forms of media that white male character is a default character, because they are void of most consequences of their identity: you don't have to be mindful about how they act or what they are capable of, because they can be anything. Female, in comparison, if they are gross or a scientist or evil--it won't be just gross or a scientist or evil, there would be contextual implications: she would be a form of 'bad' woman because she's gross, she'd be 'outstanding' because she's a female scientist, and there probably certain definition of what is 'evil' that woman is capable of. Or, let's say instead of white, this is a black male. They wouldn't be just have tattoos, or in police enforcement, or a serial killer. The tattoos would have to mean something, if they are police or serial killer things would have to somewhat connect with the fact that they are black. Or Asian male, for instance! If they are male and Asian, and they are lady killer, I assure you there will be a certain justification on how this is happening. Don't let me start with LGBT+ character. Their identity politics would usually be doubled or tripled.

Now, all of these identity politics (race, especially) would really depend on the cultural context (if we're talking about white male in Japanese media then the perspective would be reversed) but basically, what I am trying to say is that: identity politics (usually) matter! And at the simplest form (or at the very least) it's the gender binary of man-woman. Of course this is not a bad or good thing, it's just a thing.

Now. This is usually NOT a thing in my comics. But it turns out, it is! I talked about masculine depictions and patriarch privilege, but instead of the conveyor being female, it's male! And! I think it's peculiar, and quite an achievement! (Just cuz I think it's interesting).

I don't know what it implies about my subconscious, but I like it and we'll see if it happens again (Idk if realizing it will jinx it, but we'll just see. Not that it's good or bad either way)

Saturday, March 25, 2017

Chat First

I thought it was silly for someone to think that they shouldn't chat anyone first because they were always the ones who chat first.

I thought 'If you need them for something, why not? It's you who need them.' This need of course includes the immaterial ones such as companionship or mental support. I knew and saw people who are actually sad for not chatting with their friends or significant others, and I was extremely baffled for the fact that they don't just do it because
"I'm always the one who chatted first!"
Me, as low-context communication extraordinarie (to the point that I am not always tactful at most times), find it depressingly unnecessary.

Until it happened.

The first months of staying in London, I was always the one who chatted my sister first. I asked her to skype call with me all the time back then. Sometimes she'd be busy, and I'll wait for her to tell me when she's free, but she didn't tell me anything until I chatted her again and asked "When are we going to skype :(". And repeat.

There was this one time when this happened that particularly struck me. I asked her to skype, but she said that she'd be busy for a while so maybe after this busy thing. I said, ok, tell me when you're free then.

It was some time afterwards (a week after, or something?) I wondered if she's free now.

I wanted to ask her about it, but I thought to myself.

'I always asked her to skype with me first. Is it just the case that she did not find me chatting or skyping her as important or fun as I thought it was?'

The initiation of contact was heavily one-sided, and this made me reflect on this. That I probably treasure her (our time together, at least) than I (it) was to her. Because sometimes she forgot, sometimes she was late on being online at the time we agreed to chat. It made me somewhat sad. Or, like, disappointed. I then understand the big deal over who chatted first thing--it implies reciprocity of (at the very least mental) investment in the relationship. I didn't think that it matters for me to have people to need me as much as I need them, but it actually does matter.

But then I thought to myself 'Oh well. It's fine. It didn't matter anyway if we didn't skype or chat or anything. It won't change the fact that she's my sister, so it's not like our relationship will dissipate or whatever.'

But of course, this didn't really stop me to asked her when we can skype as she was chatting with me that time (being sad about things never really stops me from doing it if deemed necessary).

On that particular call, I told her about this.
"Din. Aku tuh sebenernya sedih, soalnya aku mulu yang ngajakin kamu skype. Kayak kamu sebenernya biasa aja gitu, nggak pengen-pengen amat ngobrol ama aku. Tapi abis itu aku mikir kalo kita nggak sering ngobrol juga kita masih saudaraan jadi kupikir nggak papa juga sih."
She, upon hearing this, was quick to deny that it was the case. She said that of course she liked talking to me, duh. And it was totally not one-sided! And she agreed upon me saying that we'd still be sisters anyway, so she didn't worry too much on not having that much of an interaction with me.

But afterwards, she was way more active on initiating chat or skype call. It made me happy.


You know, I never find it that hard on telling people what I had in mind and I think it's very convenient. I know that not everyone can find this as easy as I am, but it was talking about what you think and feel that could only get your message across, most of the time. (Sometimes not even talking about it make people understand, but if talking is not even helping, how do you expect from not talking at all) I think it's good to spare yourself the pain and anguish of being in a limbo of uncertainty or sadness (over the fact that you don't even know for sure).

Human interaction is hard, I still am not able to figure out many things that seemed to be the rule for it. But so far, I haven't got a clue if there is any other method that is as efficient as asking and telling people what you think and feel when it matters.

Ask them. Free yourself from doubt. Even if it was not the answer you want, maybe an answer is all that you need.

Sunday, February 19, 2017

It's hard not to care, no

I wish I could care less. But it's really hard not to when you know stuffs.

Things I know nag me.

Demand my attention. Sometimes they demand me to do something.

Sometimes I know better not to. But knowing is not enough. It does not stop them from nagging me most of the time.

Though why would it be? Consciousness is like, what, a small percent of your being. The important stuff that you do to keep yourself alive are not even done consciously. I mean, how conscious you are to keep your heart beating? Certainly not very. Not even the never ending battles of your immune system. Sometimes not the excretion of hormones that enables you to, um, feel stuff.

So when things I know bugs me, and I know that I shouldn't even bothered, but I am anyway,

those are one of the times when I know that there are things about me that I don't know.

And probably never know. Ever.

But it's fine. I don't think it is my purpose in life to have everything figured out. I don't think there actually is a purpose in life, but I guess that's the reason why it's nice to custom one yourself. Or just, you know. Leave it to that.