The Lives That We Lead (Off The Grid: Day 5)

If I should have a daughter

Instead of “Mom”

She’s gonna call me “Point B”

Because that way, she knows

That no matter what happens

At least she can always find her way to me

The first opening lines of this TED talk leave me somewhat transfixed. Clever. And poetic, very poetic.

I stumbled through the archives of TED talks one morning, looking for something to inspire me. Not so much to change my life entirely, but one that at least helps me get through the day. I’m drawn to the talk done by Sarah Kay. The still that serves as the video’s thumbnail is stunning. You can see that she’s in the middle of a spirited performance. There’s this sparkle in her eyes, this radiance from her face.

And the term “spoken word poet” piqued my interest.

Spoken word poetry, as Sarah describes it, is the love child between poetry and theatre. It’s about writing poetry that cannot sit still on paper. It demands to be read aloud, performed. And unlike written poetry where the people who reads it feels something amazing in a private and personal level, spoken word creates connections in the moment it is spoken and heard and seen, bridging the performer and the audience.

When I meet you, in that moment

I’m no longer a part of your future

I start quickly becoming part of your past

But in that instant, I get to share your present

And you, you get to share mine.

And that is the greatest present of all

It becomes apparent that stories and words are a huge part of Sarah’s life. I am amazed by how much I can relate to her. How we share such similar sentiments, share a love of words and stories. We see the world as one giant playground, one endless stage. In another talk entitled “How many lives can you live?” Sarah explores what you can do in a lifetime. Like me, she believed that she would get to do amazing things. Things that depended not on terms of ‘if’ but simply ‘when’.

“My Mom says that when people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, my typical response was princess-ballerina-astronaut. What she doesn’t understand is that I wasn’t trying to invent some combined super profession, I was listing things I thought I was gonna get to be.” -- Sarah Kay on her childhood dreams

Feeling like you have all the time in the world makes the horrible realization that you don’t all the more jarring. It’s scary to think that you only get one shot, only get to do a fraction of the things you want to experience. Because dammit I’ve just discovered how wonderful life can be and I want to spent every single moment feeling that way. 

I want her to look at the world

Through the underside of a glass-bottom boat

To look through a microscope at the galaxies

That exists on the pinpoint of a human mind

Sarah imparts a few words of wisdom, something that I guess I knew a long time ago but didn’t fully accept or understand until now. There is a way we can live multiple lives. Perhaps not personally, not through our own eyes but through the eyes of other people. And there is a tool that can help achieve that: stories. That’s why I open a book and read. I want to experience those stories — other people’s stories and catch a glimpse of what life is like from the other side.

That’s why connections are so important. That’s why story-telling is so important. It’s this sharing of experience and knowledge that can shape you as a person, and perhaps to an extent, shape the world. I’m not so good with interacting with people. Not because I don’t like them. As much as I like spending time on my own, I do like spending time with other people too and I have never purposefully tried to avoid that. Maybe I shy away from it — hey, that’s just my awkwardness shining through.

As much as I enjoy talking about things like TV, movies, music, I can’t shake the feeling that everyone has their guard up. I have trouble getting into what’s real. Not that I expect it to be easy, I just didn’t think it’d be this hard, to hear and be heard. It almost sounds impossible.

But I see the impossible every day

Impossible is trying to connect in this world

Trying to hold onto others while things are blowing up around you

Knowing that while you’re speaking

They aren’t just waiting for their turn to talk – they hear you.

They feel exactly what you feel, at the same time you feel it

It’s what I strive for every time I open my mouth —

That impossible connection

There are two kinds of stories: stories that we experience second-hand, stories that we hear from other people. And then there are stories that we write. Stories that only we can tell because we’re the only one in this universe who sees the world the way we do. And that’s something I keep in mind, every time I pick up a pen or sit in front of a keyboard, fingers poised ready to write.

I may not be sure that I’m saying what I want to say with the best words possible but I do feel that I have something worth saying. Something that comes from me — from my mind, my heart. That’s why being a journalist sounded like the perfect dream. Not only could I go out and enjoy the world, I could write it all down too. Not only did I get to tell my own stories, I could go out and listen, go looking for other people’s. And hopefully, with enough patience and skill, I could help them share their stories.

I may not get it right the first time. I might find pain and sorrow and heartache and find myself unable to find the right words to say. But that doesn’t mean I can’t try.

There’ll be days like this my momma said…

… When your boots will fill with rain

And you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment

And those are the days you have all the more reason to say thank you

Because there’s nothing more beautiful than the way

The ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline

No matter how many times it’s sent away

If at this point in this essay, I’ve sounded a bit too pretentious for you to hear me out, then watch the videos and listen to Sarah Kay. She is a much more talented story-teller than I am and I can only hope to come close to what she’s doing with her life.

This world can seem big and so, so scary. And things tend to go in a way that you never planned and never expected to happen. But never give into that nagging feeling that you’re too small to matter. You might see someone, someone who’s famous and talented and brilliant and although you admire them, you feel yourself shrink away, feel insecure just by comparison.

There’s really nothing to compare in the first place. Sure, someone else may look like they’re living the perfect life, but that’s their life, their story. And you have one of your own, one that’s just waiting to unfold.

Don’t give up. Just keep on trying, keep on striving to be someone better, someone like those people you looked up to in the first place. Someone you know you can be.

You will put the wind in win some, lose some

You will put the star in starting over and over.

And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute

Be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life

It may not seem like we can do much in one lifetime. But think about what we can do together through the lives that we lead. Lives that intersect and feed of one another’s energies, hopes and dreams. Lives that demand to be lived, listened to, appreciated and shared.

The life I’m leading has been a pretty confusing one so far. It’s a life that’s been revolving around words, stories and connections. And even as I write this imperfect essay, struggling to find the words I realize how much those words have given me, how much they’ve taught me.

A few closing words taken from Sarah:

This isn’t my first time here. This isn’t my last time here.

These aren’t the last words I’ll share.

But just in case, I’m trying my hardest

To get it right this time around.

Thanks for reading.

--Karin Novelia. And yes, on a scale of one to over trusting, I am pretty damn naïve.

*The quotes above may not be taken from the same poem/video
1). The lines in blue are from Sarah Kay's poem "Point B" and red is "Hiroshima" which can be heard here
2). The quote in green is from her talk "How many lives can you live?" posted here

The Beauty and Brutality of the World

As I've been alluding to, my one saving grace is distraction. It keeps me sane.



As the words float off the page and resonate deep within my heart, I can't help but feel a certain connection with the writer.

Then I satirically realize that I share a similar mind-frame with Death.

Still with me? Then in the same being's words, I write to you, dear reader: Come with me and I'll tell you a story.

A story of opposites, put simply. Life and Death. Losing and finding. Giving, and most paramount of all, thieving.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak is a well-written masterpiece with such poetic prose that toys with the emotions and etches itself into memory. It tells of the dark inkling of time that imbues human history -- Nazi Germany and World War II, the years that fell under Adolf Hitler's tyrannical rule.

I must admit that I'm not an expert in the historical aspect of the subject. All I've ever heard about of Hitler, in passing, is that he is a horrible, horrible man, and a mass murderer with a strong sense of discrimination.

The characters are unique and individual, described by Zusak in a way that shows off their trademark. We are given a look into their lives and see just how steadfast they all are in a time that calls for strength, amidst war and depression.

The centerpiece of the tale is a girl named Liesel Meminger who, for a girl still young, draws in Death and tragedy in her wake. She's not to blame, of course, concerning her circumstances. Who would ever ask for their brother to suddenly drop dead on a train ride to their new foster home? She experiences such terrible loss, is separated from her family and becomes a first-hand witness to the destructive force of World War II.

After burying her brother and pilfering her first book from a mound of snow (fittingly entitled, The Grave Digger's Handbook), she arrives at Himmel Street in a town called Molching. Ironically, especially in the heart-breaking final scenes of the book, the meaning of Himmel to be translated to Heaven could not be farther from reality. She meets her new foster parents: Rosa Hubermann who, underneath the constant string of profanities, houses a heart of gold; and Hans Hubermann, an accordion-playing painter who soon teaches Liesel how to read.

Liesel's first encounter with the written words may seem like a solemn one, but The Grave Digger's Handbook was the first book she ever held in her hands and only a prelude to the more enticing ones that color her new life. She finds a new joy in reading them, even resorts to stealing them when she can, because then money for her family was scarce and they were even a luxury she could not continuously indulge herself in.

Her fixation with books and reading reminds us how words can transport us. We can get lost in the pages and get swept up in the stories they tell, leaving behind our reality to enter the fictitious ones between the lines.

I've always been a believer in the power of words. But this book also shows me that they are a double-edged sword. Words can have the power to change things. Dramatic as it sounds, they are even capable of changing the world. It can save lives. Move nations.

They can be twisted and edited, used to lie and manipulate. As was the custom then during Nazi Germany, the Fuhrer's words became gospel. He brain-washed the people under his rule with propaganda, and as the story unfolds we see the harsh consequences of such abuse. They follow his every word like robots, like zombies. He has the Germans thinking that they are a superior race, superior enough to risk their lives in a bid of war. A war that led to so many deaths.

So many people had placed their faith blindly upon him, to the point that if you weren't a Hitler supporter, the repercussions would be dire. Liesel's new Papa was among that small percentage that weren't Nazi believers and that paradigm hinged on the fact that he owed his life to a Jew. The very people Adolf Hitler discriminatingly despised.

Hans Hubermann was one of the few people who didn't believe that Jews had to be exterminated. But he never could act upon those beliefs, even speak them, all because he was afraid that once those words leaked from his lips, he could not take them back and anyone who heard them would punish him for standing up against what is obviously immoral. Maybe most of the Nazis who claimed their support were the ones who were most against it.

We're given a look at what it is like to be a Jew during that time, looking through the eyes of Max Vandenburg. He's on the run, to the point of dehydration and starvation and for what reason? Because he was born a Jew. Because a man in a fuzzy mustache says that every fiber of his being is wrong, simply because. What in the world could justify such thoughts? How deep could a racial hatred grow to make someone go through such suffering? He is coincidentally the son of the man who saved Hans Hubermann's life, and now without a home or a family, he turn to him and asks him to do something that could risk his life more than anything: to hide a Jew in his home. Implicitly, he is also asking: How far will you go to uphold your beliefs? How much of a human being are you truly are?

I momentarily tend to forget the story is fictitious and my heart aches for the poor souls, in another place, another time. Out of my reach. The realistic scenarios aptly depict the harsh times and I can't help but wonder what kind of suffering people in the real world had to face. Perhaps there were Liesels and Hubermanns and Maxes facing all sorts of dilemmas. Or perhaps it was far worse that Markus Zusak could ever try to depict.

What binds all these characters, places, and stories within stories is the omniscient narrator who comes off a bit too... human for my liking. The most uplifting story-telling of The Book Thief is the use of Death as its voice. As the war rages on, he becomes quite busy, as you can imagine, reaping souls and dropping them off to only he knows where. Zusak defies common perception that Death is a cold-blooded, empty soul in a black cloak who wields a scythe, and instead gives him a heart. We read that he is burdened with his task, he finds no joy in it, no satisfaction. He distracts himself with all the deceased souls he sees everyday by vacationing in increments. In colors.

It's not that he needs to distract himself from the souls he need to collect -- it is after all his job, and no matter how much he chooses not to, he will not stop seeing them. He needs a distraction from us. From humans. From the survivors that stand in the wake of Death, humans who can kill and save lives, who are capable of nearly anything good, even bad. He is obsessed with them, with their stories, even though he knows he should not.

This novel tackles quite a few issues and themes, like discrimination and duality, but the one that sums everything pretty well is this: human nature. It puzzles Death to no end. The way humans can be so complicated. How they can bring upon their lives such beauty and brutality, such order and chaos, as if one could not exist without the other.

We wish for peace yet continue to war with one another. We fight for life but then kill. Through the darkest days we still manage to see the silver lining. We are afraid of Death yet... we continue running towards him.

A small excerpt from his "Diary" might help to clarify:

It was a year for the ages, like 79, like 1346, to name just a few. Forget the scythe, Goddamn it, I needed a broom or a mop. And I needed a vacation.

* * * A SMALL PIECE OF TRUTH * * *

I do not carry a sickle or a scythe.

I only wear a hooded black robe when it's cold.

And I don't have those skull-like

facial features you seem to enjoy

pinning on me from a distance. You

want to know what I truly look like?

I'll help you out. Find yourself

a mirror while I continue. 

I also find it incredibly fitting that in the end, Liesel uses the words to tell her story by writing it down. No one could ever had guessed that the story, written in a small bounded notebook, would fall into the hands of Death. In his introduction he tells us his reasons for keeping stories of survivors: It is one of the small legion I carry, each one extraordinary in its own right. Each one an attempt -- an immense leap of an attempt -- to prove to me that you, and your human existence are worth it.

In the end he's even at a loss for words to describe what he has seen.

All I was able to do was turn to Liesel Meminger and tell her the only truth I know. I said it to the book thief and I say it to you now.

* * * A LAST NOTE FROM YOUR NARRATOR * * *

I am haunted by humans.

So ask yourselves this reader: Is our existence truly worth it? Can we even call ourselves 'human' beings?

It has been a long while since I wrote a book review (again, my use of the word 'review' is a loose one), but I do enjoy writing them, analyzing what they have to offer, entertainment or education-wise. I know it is long, but if you've taken the time to read this, then thank you. I hope that you can take what I've written as some food for thought, and might even decide to pick up this book for yourselves and fall in love with it like I did, from the very first page. As I writer, I recently realized that I suck at words. I could associate my lack of inspiration to a thing called writer's block, but it is nothing but a blatant excuse. So, like Liesel Meminger said at the end of her book, The Book Thief:

I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right.

-- Haunted by the Words, Karin Novelia

So Much To Look Forward To

New Year's Eve has always been celebratory. You go out, have a nice time, milking the last few hours in the year for what it's worth. You can't help but be a little nostalgic and reflect back on the year. Can you believe it? Another year has just gone by, poof, just like that.

And honestly, my year has definitely been one hell of a ride.

Keeping a blog was one thing I always was determined to keep. It's like this diary of mine, a record of what's happened, something I'll want to read back on in the future, something that will show me, and others, what has happened in my life, what I've gone through and what progress I've made.

I spent the last few days re-reading my old blog posts, and honestly I'm just about close to tears. So in this 2011 recap post, I'll be attaching links of related posts throughout. I'm not sure how to recap this year, since I've really already written most of what happened into those individual posts.

When I first wrote this blog, I was in 7th grade. I had just begun to adjust my self from Elementary School life to Junior High, and it was a bigger leap than I thought.

The thing is about 6th grade, it's that I finally found my niche. Having moved here to Indonesia, from the Phillipines during 3rd Grade, it was like starting all over again. New school, new friends, new country, new life...

Back in the Philippines, I had what you called a sheltered life. I didn't get out of the house that often, my parents have always been protective of me. That perhaps affected my socializing abilities. I wasn't exactly shy, but I wasn't really inclined to put myself out there either. Since I went to a sort of 'International school' the foreigners were put together in the same classes, so my social cirlce only circulated between those 2 foreigner classes. I already had made a best friend, one that goes back to my very first day of school, and I grew attached to her, and our small group of friends. We weren't outcasts, but we weren't 'popular' either. We were just us, original and special in our own way, and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

So the move to Indonesia was sudden, and slightly painful for me. People thought I was quiet simply because of a languange barrier. I had yet to be fluent in Bahasa Indonesia. By 6th Grade, that did change. I was comfortable now speaking Bahasa Indonesia, and it seemed that I had slipped into a leadership role in the class of 6B, even though I wasn't class president or something like that. I felt my efforts were appreciated, and that I was given the chance to be my best.

7th Grade shifted the game completely. Things just change. People become slightly more superficial, social status comes into play as we enter teen-hood. The people I once hung out with in 6th grade, started to become people who were out to take me down. I just didn't like it. The whole popular groups beginning to surface, I was prepared to be an individual. I didn't have a problem spending time on my own, I've always been like that. I was a self-proclaimed nerd, and looking at my blog posts a bit 'alay' with all the laughter, LOLs and slight craziness. Hahaha.

But I was hopeful, naive, innocent and still giving my best in the things I did, even things that many didn't believe in or thought was 'uncool'. My naivety seems to have faded over all the crap happened, but my child-like hopefullness is sometimes what keeps me going.

8th Grade, things started to become better. AYC has helped me find myself in such profound ways, it was the experience that made me a better person. I didn't feel restrained, I was given the chance to try my best, though it wasn't easy thing to do with my confidence level so low after 7th Grade.

Making friends was starting to become a challenge, with people starting to conform  to what's 'socially accepted' and pretend and divert from keeping it real. I had a slight betrayal pop up in the 7th Grade, but it taught me to forgive and forget, learn from the past and all that. This was just a crazy year for me. I found myself in my first relationship, making a new group of friends, and experiencing what was arguably one of the best classes I've been in, perhaps even better than my days in 6B. Of course, drama had to pop up too, once the 2nd semester started in 2011. The whole 'Whispers of the Crowd' twitter fiasco thing just... ugh. I'm still cringing when I remember it.

It's kinda tough rereading through my 2010 New Year's Resolutions, and seeing not many of them accomplished or improve by much. Meh.

My family problems are not things I display publicly, but let's just say, 2011 has been challenging in that prospect. The restraints seem to have gotten tighter, and though I love my parents to death, there starting to misunderstand me and my intentions even more. But I have had one of the most memorable family vacations, that made me realize that no matter what, I wouldn't stop loving my family.

Friends? Like I said, friendships have become hard to maintain. I don't like it when a friendship ends, but if it isn't really working out, or stays the same as before does anything really need to be forced? Of course, though some things have fallen out, it's nice to know who my real friends are. SHOUTOUT TO MY ONE AND ONLY SMOOCHIE: CINDY WIJAYA! :D You're awesome, girl, and have always been there for me, even if it's been like forever since we hungout. You're the one who knows all my secrets, the one person I can vent to without being judged. Love you for life :*

School: Well, entering the ninth grade, I didn't expect things to be easy, but I didn't expect them to be so hard either. I was being super optimistic, like this post points out. I was looking forward to a busy year, helping the new generation of AYC, and keeping the action plan going. I had very well 'taken the pledge'.

Turns out, 9B is an eclectic mix, just a little bit of everything and of course things are kept interesting with the friction that's bound to spark from such big, conflicting personalities. Sir Darma has been an awesome teacher. I know not many students like him, due to his tendency to be a perfectionist, but I can see past that and admire him as teacher who's just trying to do his job. He constantly reminds me that he's looking for a 'leader' in the class, but I don't know why that person has to be me. I'm not in the mood for it, especially in those dark days at the beginning of 9th Grade (partly to due to the breakup). I guess this year, I just wanted to shove everyone's expectations down the drain, stop being so hard on myself, stop trying to impress other so much and do thing's for me. I've paid attention to other people's needs for so long, maybe I just wanted to be a bit selfish this year. Though I guess that didn't last long. Haha. Like I've said, I'm too nice for my own good.

The highlights though were of course, LUMOS MAXIMA and then Teacher's Day.

Oh, and we can't forget the Love Story now, can we? 2011 was the first year I entered being in a (at the time) very hopeful and established relationship. Of course, drama followed in the last days of 8th Grade and over summer break, I had well... broken up. First heartaches, first break-ups are inevitably messy, and though I handled things well, I just kinda wished I handled things better. Like I said before, I'm an individual. I'm not a stranger to time spent alone. But suddenly losing (in a really jerk-ish way, I might add) a boyfriend -- a friend -- and all the feelings of consistency, and having someone to rely on, that of course wasn't easy.

And then entering 9th Grade, with work that I welcomed as a distraction, I was just feeling a little lost. There was the whole retreat thing, and me almost catching a 'rebound' guy but realizing that was simply horrible, and wrong. Last night, I also realized these deep feelings, for a friend that was a strong and close friend at first, but is now coming close to an ex-friend. I've written a letter to 'him' which was a good way to vent, but I'm still not sure where we stand.

Culturally and knowledge-wise, I've learned alot in 2011. I've been caught in some awesome range of TV shows from the dramatic-thiller Pretty Little Liars to the kiss-ass Sherlock on BBC. I've gone beyond just watching things to analyzing them, getting more and more curious about the behind-the-scenes process not just in TV shows but in block-buster movies as well. I'm an official movie-junkie now, just beginning to scratch the surface of cinematography.

My taste in music has also quickly expanded. I've been downloading tracks like crazy, clogging my hard-drive so fast it's basically killing the processing speed of my laptop. Noel Gallagher, The Wanted and Coldplay are a few of my most-played. I've also taken an interest into classical music, tried a bit of Tchaikovsky pieces, being drawn to the ballet-performance aspect of their uses combining the ear-pleasing compositions with visual impact. I'm thinking of trying some Chopin next, since it reminds of that PS3/Xbox360 game 'Eternal Sonata' which revolves around a fantasy world loosely based on 'Frederic Chopin'. I'm strongly attracted to playing the violin now, though it's a bit of a long shot to start taking up lessons.

Reading has sort taken a backseat to all my busy-bee days, but I'm starting to make sure that will change. I've been spending most of my holidays reading novels, the most recently finished was 'The Power of Six' the sequel to 'I Am Number Four' and next on my list is the "Peter Pan and the Starcatchers" series :) I'm also planning to spend more time reading and analyzing classics, starting of course, with the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I love how the Sherlock Holmes series is so quotable.

Besides the fictional fluff, I've been hitting a few informational books as well. Forensics science has always been an interest of mine (blame all those CSI shows, detective games and most recently Sherlock) and I'm simply sifting through articles, building up on the terminology which is of course advancely complicated. I've also started studying up on horticulture and classification of plant-life (my homeroom teacher does major in Biology).

And then there's writing, this old passion of mine. I have been keeping the pen sharp, joining my school's Skill Development Class for English Creative writing and picking up on a few of my short stories. I've also been studying the art of script-writing for well, let's just say slightly confidential purposes. For now ;)

2011, has been a tough, yet fun year. Lots of mall escapades, and 'productive hangouts' (as a friend put it) to remember on with a laugh. A lot of time spent driving away cases of boredom, having a lot of emotional feelings, and quiet nights on holidays. All of which is fine, since I'm discovering more about myself everyday.

Many people think of 2011 as one of the worst years. Maybe it's because 2012, 'the end of the world' is coming, and expectations are being set too high. The optimist inside me wants to disagree and say '2011 has been a wonderful year!' but the realist inside me solemnly agrees. Yes, 2011 has definitely been a crappy year, all in all.

There were many days spent with me keeping my head down, not feeling myself. But that gave way to feeling of optimism and days where I started looking up.

But when you've hit rock bottom, where is there to go but up?

In a nutshell, that's been my 2011. I've gone through a lot, emerging through the end of the year a much more stronger person than before.

It's okay to look back, have flashbacks and remember all the memories you've had. But don't you ever, ever let that stop you. As the inspirational Chris Colfer said, "Despite such a current challenging time, there is so much to look forward to."

"I promise, it gets so much better."

--Karin Novelia, Looking Forward To A Better Year :)

A Little Appreciation to Get By

Hey!

It's been awhile since my last post. I actually have had a lot of urges to write, but school and all, no time, you know how it gets. I'm actually having finals tomorrow (Biology and Physics first for a change, whee...). I got bored and sick of studying so, here I am. Actually, I'm multi-tasking. I'm writing this while watching Sherlock (A FANTASTIC SHOW by the way. You reader, must watch) on my laptop and glancing at the latest season of Dancing with the Stars, while quizzing my friends tomorrow through chat.

Well, anyway I wanna talk about a very special day. It was the 25th of November otherwise known here as Teachers' Day. This 9th Grade year has been very interesting so far. A bit more complicated than I would've liked, but hey, I'm far from bored.

One pretty interesting aspect was of course the teachers. Having a few classes that were taught by teachers that were different to other classes sort made things a difficultly new experience, but I'm glad to learn how to adapt. My homeroom teacher, Sir Darma wasn't exactly someone who I haven't met. He taught biology for me back in 7th Grade, and my class 7F was the only one he taught. He's a bit... motivated and high-spirited, but his exuberance was something I hadn't seen in a while, so I welcomed his unique style of teaching. But his perfectionist attitude also made me glad that I wouldn't have to see him more than twice a week.

And when 9th Grade came around I was sort of beggin, Please, don't let Sir Darma be my homeroom teacher.

... Yeah, I barely get what I want. Haha.

So yeah, 9B, headed by Sir Darma. His ideas were always welcomed, at least by me, but the execution was a bit far out of reach. This led to the class slightly disliking his way of pushing us, demanding the best, demanding action even when we didn't completely agree with his plans or ideas. Even though I knew where my classmates were coming from, I sometimes just didn't like the way they commented Sir Darma.

It's nice to know, at least, that you have a teacher that cares.

Maybe my attachment to Sir Darma is a bit personal. I must admit, he did help me earlier this year. When I was lost, he was someone who offered a listening ear. And even though his advice wasn't completely helpful, I still appreciate his intentions.

And Teachers' Day really is all about that: appreciation.

My class starting to come together, pitching in ideas and making plans that even though were a bit last-minute was something that we wanted to accomplish together. We made what I liked to call: "The Wall of Superheroes" on our class softboard. We found images of renowned heroes like Superman, Mr Incredible, Catwoman, Batman, etc., and replaced their heads with the faces of our 9th Grade teachers. A bit comical, I suppose, but the whole 'teachers are Superheroes' analogy is something I find touching. We made a background of a city, and huge clouds in the sky with really inspirational quotes on teaching.

"A good teacher is like a candle. It consumes itself to light the way for others." -- Mustafa Kemal

Or

"A teacher affects eternity. He can never tell when his influence stops." -- Henry Brooks Adams

Sir Darma was in a bit of a mood lately. It seemed like he was fed up with our class. And it put us in a stalemate. We knew he was pissed -- he'd stop lecturing us in the morning like he usual does -- and was just so quiet, but we didn't know how to meet his expectations either.

So today, things would be different. They would be changed for the better :)

It was just after lunch break. We would have a period of Biology class, of course taught by our Sir Darma. So before he came out of the class opposite ours, 9D, we all held a red rose, some held candles and we form a walkway between 9D and 9B. As Sir Darma stepped out of 9D and saw us all lined up, I smiled when I saw his look of surprise.

When he came up to take the rose from each of us, we all recited a line from a personal letter I wrote specifically for that day. We told him how we realized his frustation of late, and how in reality, we do appreciate what he's done, all the time and resources he's given to our class. And how we want to start over, start anew and move forward together, better than before. The fact he said he was close to tears made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

 "Teaching us maybe like a rollercoaster -- lots of ups and downs. But we'll make sure it's a ride you'll enjoy! :)" -- 9B to Sir Darma

 A day of roses, candles, letters and songs, it's been one of the most personal touching Teachers' Day I've been through.

And since I aspire, to be an educator one day, seeing that little treats like this might be in store for me... all the pain and trouble of teaching, is starting to seem worth while.

Thanks for reading!

--Karin Novelia, Appreciative Student :)

The End of One Thing, The Beginning of Another

Today is practically one of the most happiest Thursdays of my life. After enduring another sick day yesterday, forcing myself to finish all my schoolwork until like MidNight, waking up a tad cranky the next morning, I finally made it to school, to my dear class 7F without a last minute up-chuck.

I have finally rid myself of all schoolwork for this year (hooray!) and now have to prepare for final exams (boohoo!). So today was the final day of normal classes and next week we would all be facing our final exams in the eye. Tomorrow's a Friday, the day when I'm at my best, and the school, thankfully, let us have the day off.

For once, I was glad to be at school. When you're at home puking your guts out, school was a more welcoming option. I've seen that 7F hasn't changed a bit, and apparently someone missed me while I was gone (awww… wkwkwkwk). Things went by at a leisurely pace. School was out of boring lessons and lectures, and as the last sessions for us, teachers were sort of saying goodbye

Anyways, that isn't the only reason why I was happy. The main highlight of the day started at exactly 5 PM on my favorite channel called Star World. That's right today was the Finale Results Show on American Idol.

As a fan of music, I almost instantly latched onto the show. Although I'm not a follower of every single season, I love the show for the fact that it's bringing talented nobodies into the spotlight of the music biz. So far, great talent has been introduced to the world and today was no different.

Stepping into season 9, I must say that this was one of the more promising seasons I've watched. We could really see raw and authentic talent from the top 12 competitors and it was really hard for me to pick a favorite. But after a few weeks, I fell in love with one guy. His name is Lee DeWyze.

(It's funny how a subtle lift of the finger like that can say, "I'm number one.")

For the past few seasons, the boys were a bit more favored in the show and this season was no different. With a raspy edge and an acoustic guitar as his weapon choice, Lee's got this rocker-style going for him, much like previous Idol singers I've adored like Daughtry and David Cook.

At first, Lee wasn't the strongest contestant on the show, apparently due to lack of confidence. Again and again the Judges have commented that Lee seemed nervous and shy. But with every step this guy just got better and better, and if people think he hasn't got the best vocals, they gotta give him an A+ for effort and passion.

Anyways, this season's finale came down to Lee DeWyze and Crystal Bowersox. I gotta hand it to Crystal though, she does have a great voice but something about her just doesn't exactly click with me. She's been a strong competitor throughout the show and neither had been in the bottom 3. There was only a 2% difference in the votes, host Ryan Seacrest said. Wow, close call much? Guess the voters have been hitting the Idol lines hard.

(Lee and Crystal, dressed up for Top 5-Sinatra Week. Coincidentaly, in the Top 4 duets, they ended up together and performed an acoustic rendition of Once's "Falling Slowly")

Before we get over to the results, the finale numbers were quite a treat. I loved seeing the top 12 hit the stage again and when I saw the whole preppy-school punk-rock theme they were putting on for the first song, "School's Out" with the legendary Alice Cooper, I was like "wow!". It's the first time I saw the show go all out, rock n' roll like that, and I loved the red blazers.


Anyhoo… The clock neared 7 PM and yeah, that meant it was time for results. Ryan paused for dramatic effect, and well, I guess I always knew what was coming. THE WINNER WAS LEE DEWYZE!

(Look at his face, right when they announced it. Doesn't he look cute? haha. But seriously, the dude even got all watery-eyed on the show, even before the results were out. He was just so nervous.)

And like I once said in a Facebook post, "I'm Always Right ;)"

I can't wait to see what Lee will cook up next after his big win, and I'm expecting it to be bigger than before. If it was me, winning American Idol would be the greatest pick-me-up and all my self-doubt would be thrown right out the window. I'm a beLEEver all the way.

And another bonus, I got to rub it in my brother's face who was insisting Crystal would win all season. So, I'm in a totally excited, happy, supercalifragilisticexpialodoucious mood right now!

Today marked the end of the formal school lessons, but marked the beginning of a week of final tests. Today marked the end of Lee's American Idol journey, but also marked the beginning of a star's new career. Today marked the end of yesterday, but marks the beginning of tomorrow.

That list could go on and on and on. I guess the main point is that life's all about ending and beginnings and sometimes the line between them is blurred. I strongly believe that whenever I hit a rock-bottom ending in life, with some hope, a new door of beginning just flew right open.

It's getting late, so I'll end this post quickly. Gotta get up early to hit those school books. See you later, writers!

Signed,

Sir Writes-A-Lot

The Complexities of People

Before you say anything, yeah I know it's late. Why am I up so late? One word: projects. And the school's whacked out policy that deadline should be tomorrow. Don't get me wrong, I know their doing that to give us more ULUM prep time, both honestly couldn't they have made it this Monday? That would give us the whole weekend tying up loose ends and putting on finishing touches. And believe me group work is not easy. -__-

ASEAN Youth Conference thing hasn't been announced yet, but by the looks of Yudhi's facebook status he's picking out candidates right now. Something to look forward to -__-

Anyways, bad mood, sleepy mood aside, I've been on a rollercoaster for awhile this year, but it looks like I'm having more ups than downs. Hopefully a fresh dose of Lee DeWyze songs will cheer me up tonight. J

Right now, I'm really confused about people. As one of the most evolved, intelligent ones on Earth, we're also the most complicated. Maybe it's because I've had a sheltered childhood, and my only playmate at home was TeeVee and Nickelodeon sitcoms, I like to stay quiet and observe people. Once considering psychiatry in my future career, sometimes I wonder whether or not we're too complicated enough to understand.

Basic psychology knowledge: people are who they are now based on their past experiences. Factors like family, friends, social community, all play a role in that. Stepping into SMP Santa Laurensia has really showed me a different spectrum of people. Maybe it was because we were all teens going to puberty and stuff and my train of thought was as innocent as a 5-year-old, but at first maybe I gave people the benefit of the doubt more than I should have.

I'm not saying names here, but unlike others, I don't like to gang up on others even though their flaws are apparent and I get somewhat determined to unveil the better person behind that. Doing the right thing isn't always the easy thing. Most of the time, my mom says I'm too nice for my own good (is that a bad thing?).

Once there was a boy, who everyone made fun of from day one. Being moved by goody-two-shoes heart, I decided to give him a chance and get to know the person inside. At first, it all seemed to sail smoothly. He turned out to be a fun and upbeat sort of guy. Dodging rumors and constant reminders that he is *insert bad word/trash talk here* and doesn't deserve a second of my time, I didn't listen. Guess you can tell this didn't turn out well, huh?

Long story short, he spilled a huge secret to the one main person he should've never told and we stopped being friends.

Yet, believe it or not, I found it in my heart to forgive him in the end.

"The Power of Forgiveness Sets You Free, Right?"

Okay, enough of that tragic story of a betrayed friendship. All it did was prove my point. People are complex. One minute, they act like this, then the next they do a complete 360 spin on ya.

For years, I've pondered why the Earth is so complicated. Correction, overly-complicated. And I guess I've discovered the answer is that people are the ones who are over-complicated. Like now there's all this talk of Global Warming. Can they stop all this talk for once and put in some action? Like you know how cars are one the main problem due to green house gas emissions? Can they just do something directly about the problem and I don't know, STOP mass-producing cars? That'll save metal and gas and force everyone to buy a bike.

Why can't that actually happen? Because, like I said, people are complex. They know it is the right thing to do but they avoid doing the right thing all due to their overzealous and egotistical need to make sure they are comfortable and thus cars are a society's must. Everyone would be causing a riot if a policy like that was ever passed and riot=chaos, chaos=political upheaval, political upheaval=anarchy, anarchy=living hell on Earth.

Yeah, I'm a bit peeved right now. >:P

Another example for humanity's complexities, is a certain girl. At a glance, this girl seems quiet and innocent, like a kindergartener stuck in teen's body. You think she does everything with all her might and would never hurt fly. WRONG! That's exactly what she wants you to think, so especially if you're smart, she'll start approaching you without you noticing it and you feel obligated to do all the work when you are in the same group, but then she starts getting pushy and giving orders and (I don't know what the English term is) nyolot.

Lesson learned: outside appearances and inside personalities can be completely different. Why can't people just act like themselves? There are various reasons. But one reason that I think applies for everything is that people are complex and complicated.

And I'm afraid we'll just never understand why.

Signed,

Sir Writes-A-Lot

Feeling the Presence of God

I awoke that quiet Thursday morning. The date was April 29^th, and I was quite excited and was looking forward to the events that would unfold that day. Today marked the first day of my Seventh Grade Recollection, one I felt I was in dire need of.

I would be completely disconnected from the outside world. No phone, no computer, no TV. No heavily pressured, high-speed routines. After facing a daunting and challengingly tough year since 6^th Grade Graduation and my days as a 7^th Grader, I welcomed the chance to let go of my troubles and work and just relax, even if it would be short-lived.

As usual, the Recollection was fun, if not a tad boring. We sang songs of praise and dance like natural disco masters, and as usual, my class, 7F was causing a riot (read: ngerusuh haha). Session were like previous recollections: talking about 'Me and Myself', 'Me and My Friends', 'Me and My Family' and God's role in it all.

For the first time, I actually was listening intently. Maybe because this time, I was really confused and troubled, and though it sounded like a repeat of things I have heard before, a little self-discovery and recollecting needed to take place. I had a pretty tough year, and though I tried to convince myself that I was a survivor, and that I should let the past go, the feeling of pain and betrayal and loss of confidence would creep up to me late at night.

Than the first night, was something truly magical, truly miraculous. As usual, we had a 'Sesi Pertobatan'. We would bow our heads in deep prayer, and be reminded of our sins and wrongs. We were reminded of our parents, and as usual, people started crying.

What surprised me was that I was crying. Not just a tear or two like I usually did, but the tears just continued to flow endlessly. I felt really guilty, and remembered all the fights I had with my parents. True, usually it was triggered by something they had done, but if I had learned anything in my life it was that hate was a gift that should never be returned.

The voice of the guest speakers from Sekolah Penginjilan Remaja, told us to picture Jesus in front of us and I did. And in my mind's eye I pictured him perfectly, standing about a meter away from me. I cried even harder. For a few depressing moments in my life when I was facing trouble and pain, it felt as if Jesus and God were just so far away.

And then it seemed like he was standing so close to me, I could touch him. Being told to picture my parents didn't help either. At that second I wanted to stand up, charge out the door, run to my house, wake my parents and hugged them so tight while saying, "I'm sorry."

After my emotions settled somewhat, we were all asked to stand up and to do something they called, "Pencurahan Roh Kudus". They explained the prayer beforehand, and its probable effects. We would be asked to completely give in to God's power and surrender to the Holy Spirit and truly feel their presence. Some might feel a deep sense of longing, and cry and cry and cry. Some might spontaneously open their mouths and speak in "Bahasa Roh", some might faint and fall into a deep sleep, some might even see visions.

When the teachers and people from SPR approached the other students one by one and prayed for them, I was standing with my eyes closed tight and realized I was shivering, shaking from head to toe. A whirlwind of emotions toiled in my heart. On one hand, I was excited to finally feel God's presence and feel free, forgiven and at peace. On the other, every fiber of my body felt scared— What if I didn't feel anything? What if didn't deserve to feel anything? What if my sins and burdens kept the Holy Spirit for coming?

A strong, endless chanting began, and I heard people speak at the top of their lungs in Bahasa Roh. It sounded like nonsense at first, but when you listened, even that mumble jumble of words touched you deeply with its deep, hidden meaning.

I heard the sound of someone falling and I jumped, accidentally opening my eyes. My vision was blurred with tears, and in a dream-like state, I saw other students lying down on the floor, some in a peaceful, calm sleep, others crying and screaming in anguish and pain, fitfully as if they had entered a never-ending nightmare.

I shut my eyes again. Seeing that did nothing but arouse my nerves even further. I wrapped my black jacket around me even tighter, feeling as cold as ice, and trying to stop myself from shivering. I put my hands together in prayer, clenching them so tight that my knuckles turned white.

A pair of people approached me. Through my shut eyes, I couldn't tell who. One, a woman I guessed from her voice, touched my by the shoulders and placed a hand on my forehead. I stiffened instantaneously. I closed my eyes even tighter, I felt my shoulders stiffened, and my hands shake in fear.

"Serahkan saja pada Tuhan," the woman whispered and prayed to me in my ear— Just give in to God.

I felt my muscles loosened. My hands fell down to my sides, my shoulders relaxed and I swayed back and forth ever so slightly. Still clenched in fists, I willed my hands and the rest of my body to let go.

She repeated the words— "Serahkan saja pada Tuhan."

I opened my clenched fists into welcome arms, I lost control over my legs and feel backwards as a strong gust of wind blew into my face and sent me sprawling backwards. Control on my body and mind gone, I fell into the arms of another woman —shorter, smaller, seemingly having a hard time carrying me— and she set me down gently on the floor.

I entered a half-conscious state. I felt my body turn stiff and unmoving, but I could still feel the cold floor of the Aula, hear others speak in the Sprit's tongue and other cries and screams. All of a sudden, as if some hidden force drove me to, I reached down deep into the recesses and dark corners of my mind and pulled up every file in the "Bad Deed" cabinet.

They played in front of my closed eye-lids in never-ending flashbacks. Every lie, every hit, every snip of angered sarcasm, back-talk, immoral words, every single sin and act of disobedience and misconduct I remembered, started from the smallest and increasing in intensity.

I cried, probably cried more than I ever had in my whole life. I think I even screamed in pain and regret once in between the rising din that began to converge and echo against the Aula walls. I felt guilty and incredibly sorry, and was crying and begging for forgiveness.

Suddenly, something happened. When you close your eyes you'll find that everything has become dark. But in your vision, you can still see the last remnants of light and images your retinas have registered dance around in purplish spots.

To me, those spots seemed to move and transform into some kind of human form. I couldn't see the details, just the blurred outline. And that person seemed to walk forwards, and I just felt that he was coming towards me.

I felt an intense wave of heat wash over me, spreading from my chest to my face and legs and into every inch of my body, as if a flame had blossomed in my heart and flowed with my blood pumping in my veins.

My crying slowly began to cease. The tears gradually faded, and with the warmth calm seeped into my heart. I closed my eyes even tighter, but more gently as my muscled loosened and I fell into a deep sleep.

My vision turned into white and suddenly, I was surrounded by a nice cool shade of light blue, dotted with clumps of white cloud. The scene around me seemed to move, and I realized that I was flying. Like a bird, without wings, flying though the open air, feeling so carelessly, so free!

It reminded me a lot of how I felt during my younger childhood years. My life probably wasn't the best or most productive one, but I didn't care. I played and laughed and enjoyed the moments, just as a kid should.

But then I flew higher, rising up above the clouds and for a second I felt excited, and completely content. Kind of like growing up. I experienced new things I never would have as a child, and I enjoyed the fleeting moment.

Unfortunately, that feeling was short-lived. As if my wings had been clipped, I lost control of my flight path and swerved downwards. I didn't understand what was happening. A sudden feeling of doubt, fear and loneliness seemed to jump at me and weighed me down. The dreaded feeling only intensified and then I just dropped like a rock.

Maybe outside my dream/vision, in the real world I was crying again and maybe even screaming in pain. Inside it, I certainly was. Tears flowed upwards as I fell, feeling the breath leave my lungs, hands flailing for something to hold on to.

Then I heard the cry of an eagle nearby, and suddenly I stopped falling. Someone was holding me up, and I just knew it was God. I turned to see his face, but a sudden fog rolled in and obscured my vision.

I still have mixed feelings of what that meant. At first I thought that I still wasn't good enough to really see him and feel his presence, or it just wasn't the right time. But a more wonderful thought crossed my mind. It was just a symbolic gesture. Most of my life I would have trouble seeing Jesus' hand in life, but the dream only convinced that even though he was out of sight he is and always be there.

I felt relieved. But more touchingly, in the dream he spoke to me. In English, his voice sounded soft, warm and gentle. Every sound of his voice and every word that escaped his lips made me feel happy, calm, like the perfect pick-me-up whenever I'm down. It sounded strange in a beautiful way. I couldn't tell if it was the voice of a child, young person, adult or old, and whether it was a man's or a woman's.

But the words that reached my ears, touched my heart and will forever change me.

"Karin, do not be afraid. I will always be there to catch you when you fall. You're a special girl, you know? You have always lived in my name, trying your best to be a good girl and not commit sins, though at times you feel as if I am not there, and being good might not be worth it in the end. You know you have the will, the determination, and big heart to be the best person you can be. You've always craved for something more, for fulfillment in your life. Yet, you bring yourselves down your insecurities, doubt and fear. But do not be afraid. Forget all the burdens that hinder you and just fly. Fly like you've never flown before. Reach higher heights than you ever thought possible."

I was crying deeply, being so touched. I felt the grip on me loosen, and I almost reached out to grab God out of fear. I was still scared. I wasn't ready. I was afraid that if did start flying, I'd end up flying alone. I didn't want to let go to the feeling of feeling God's presence. I just didn't want to let go.

"You are not alone. I am always with you. And do not worry, of your past. Your sins that hold you back and burden as of now are gone. Know that I have forgiven you. Know that now you are free."

Hearing those words made me cry again. But this time realized they weren't tears of guilt or fear— they were tears of joy. I felt my body turn as light as a feather, and I just let go. I felt my body rise higher and I started flying again, recapturing that sense of confidence, calm and freedom.

Beside me an eagle shot past me, and for a fraction of a second it turned its head towards me and I just knew it smiled at me. I smiled back, and it disappeared through the clouds.

It was then I awoke. I felt myself regain consciousness and slowly and steadily, I opened my eyes. The lights were turned back on, and someone helped me up. I registered for a second, the last few people lying down on the floor, still fitfully crying in their rest. I felt a tang of sympathy for a second. But then I took it back. I knew that they were felling His presence, and afterwards, they would feel relieved and free.

I stood up woozily, my body and mind still feeling light. I doubted myself for a second. Would I really be able to go through with that change? Would I be able to soar freely again? I felt my face, which was wet with dry tears and rubbed my puffy eyes with the sleeves of my jacket.

Suddenly, I remembered the words I heard in my dream and cracked a smile. The widest grin I ever made in my life. A steeled determination entered my face, and as I wiped my tears, I also wiped away my doubt. I now believed that God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit were with me and that anything was possible.

I think as I dance with full energy to the disco moves that accompanied the song "Kasih Yesus Indah", I really have changed down to my very core. Reader, if you are reading this, I thank you. I hope that by listening to my faithful account of me feeling His love, you will be inspired to change so that you may become close to him and feel the power of his live as well.

"Love is like the very air around us. Though you may not see it, it's always there. But God's love is like the wind. You may not see it, but you can always feel it."

Happy Weekend, Guys!

Signed,

Sir Writes-A-Lot

A Few Words of Wisdom

Hey, readers, fellow swash-buckling pen wielders ;)

I've kicked myself into high-gear to turn into the ultra-dilligent kid that just might take over the world a few more weeks muahahaha. Reason? One word: exams. I have to get prepared and decided to do it early. Afterwards, I'm gonna free as bird doing what I do best and totally love doing: writing.

So to kick start my new found dilligence, as you can see I've already posted my weekly blog post quite early. And I've got a couple more on my weekend coming soon. Tommorrow's another start of a busy week and I for one, feel excited.

Here's a few words of wisdom to help you guys that need a little pick-me-up. My own life philosophy:

"Life is simply like a road. You keep walking, towards a destiny you don't know, reach places and feel experiences you'll never know of 'till u get there. You don't know how long the road is, or what lies at the end. But the most memorable thing is walking the road itself. Life isn't about being alive. It's about 'feeling' alive and living life to the fullest. The 1 philosophy I truly believe in :)"


Signed,

Sir Writes-A-Lot