Who You Love, Who You Fight For and Who You Are

One aspect of human nature, which I find slightly disturbing, is our constant habit of labeling things. Not in a Sheldon Cooper like obsessive-compulsive way of labelling inanimate objects, but labeling human beings in mostly prejudicial ways.

You look at someone and start forming your opinions. You might notice their excessive body fat and assume they're lazy, insecure. You might make fun of them. You might joke around and call someone a name, in a way so ignorant that you may not realize that you're saying something that really hits home.

"I was called a faggot. I was called a homo, a queer. It was scary going into that building realizing these kids were taunting me with a word that was so close to the truth." -- Ryan Kendall in "8".

Homosexuality has been a controversial topic for years now, being the highlight of court battles, the basis for criminal sanctions and fuel for the discriminative flames of schoolyard bullies or even narrow-minded adults. The fact that the taunts thrown at them (in rude and inexcusable ways) are actually true, can only send someone over the edge, make them question who they are.

The quote above is taken from a legal-drama play called "8" which I found on Tumblr and watched on Youtube (a link to the video here). It is based off the transcripts of the trial that opposed Proposition 8, a ballot-initiative in California that banned same-sex marriage rights to citizens who were already enjoying them. It was absolutely captivating, with a live-streamed reading by a star-studded cast whose mere voice acting and subtle body language did justice to the true emotional essence that drove the historic trial to victory.

Personally, in Indonesia, you don't hear much about LGBT trials or cases. The majority of Indonesia (being Muslims) are highly religious, and it is based on those religious beliefs that homosexuality is considered wrong, in some provinces even, a crime. There is a lack of activity on the LGBT rights front, but I'm speaking from personal experience that there is at least one homosexual person in this country, and I bet that in reality there is much, much more.

What does homosexuality have to do with legal rights? Well, in most legal constitutions, the group homosexuals aren't explicitly addressed. Perhaps in a world where we all are open-minded and unfamiliar with the concept discrimination, homosexuality would not even be an issue. But it is, mostly because it is widely unaccepted in society. So, a chism has emerged from both sides of the story: people who, gay or otherwise, support LGBTs and people who don't. The people who don't accept homosexuality are finding ways to supress it, deeming it wrong and susceptible to harassment.

You ocassionaly hear someone being beaten because of their sexual orientation. Being called a freak, a faggot, far too many times that it causes them to take their own life. It's the cases like these, the discrimination and the harassment, that has pushed people to take a stand. To tell people that this is not okay and homosexuals do not deserve to be treated like that. The law is a indisputable concept developed by man which protects and creates order. Where else should these matters be taken to other than court?

Proposition 8 focuses on marriage, and it really gets you thinking. What makes gay people so different from heterosexuals? What makes them abnormal? What gives us the right to deprive them from a life of love? The Prop 8 trial focused on the definition of marriage and that it strictly had to be between a man and a woman.

Those words and definitions are man-made concepts. We're human, we make assumptions, make mistakes. Whose to say that we are not mistaken with our ideas that marriage can't be homosexual? Who can tell whether or not it will change the very core of society? Are we so arrogant to carve these paradigms into stone, without considering that change is bound to happen? In the play you'll see the defendants (the defenders of Proposition 8) have a hard time delivering their argument. Same-sex marriages or relationships are not doing any harm.

"It's not about who you're attracted to, it's who you fall in love with." -- Holly Holiday from Glee on sexuality.

Have you ever fallen in love? I, myself, don't think I have yet. How would you feel if someone told you that your love is something wrong? That this relationship that makes you feel good about yourself, makes you feel complete, is an abomination to nature and is publicly admonished? What can you even do when falling in love is something out of your control?

Love is something inspiring. And it's in my opinion that homosexual love, is the most inspiring of all. Despite all the negativity, the bigotry, these two people deemed by society as freaks or mentally-ill, come out and truly be themselves, express their love for each other in a way that is pure, touching and in the end, enduring.

I know that homosexuality is a very touchy issue, but I feel that I had to write this post on it just to let people know where I stand with it (being open-mindedly opinionated as I promised). I know that many people might not agree with me (just seeing gay couples on TV makes most of my friends disgusted).

So this is what I think -- no, this is what I believe. Homosexuality is okay. It doesn't make them any less better than heterosexuals. They are confident in who they are and we shouldn't ask them to change their ways, or pretend to be something they're not. We should not make it seem like they should be condemned, we need to make sure that they feel accepted and happy, like every human being has a right to be. They're human. Just like me and you. They might seem different, but they're not wrong.

Most might find homosexuals to be scary or feel it makes them uncomfortable, and you know what, that's okay too. We've spent most of lives seeing opposite-sex couples that same-sex ones seem foreign to us, outside of the norm. But do not ever let that fear or prejudice become an excuse for degrading a person's dignity. Do not ever make someone feel worthless when they are simply being who they are.

I don't care if your straight, gay, transgender or bi. Live the life you want to live. Love who you want to love. Marry who you want to marry. Be who you want to be.

Who you love might determine your sexuality. But your sexuality doesn't determine who you are as a person. No matter who it is, who you love will ultimately become who you fight for. Who you fight for, in the name of love, determines who you are. And that makes you human.

So take my advice. Don't hate. Be human.

I find that I get really emotional when it comes to this topic, so emotional that it clouds my heads and hinders me from fully conveying my feelings on the matter. I just hope that I make sense in what I've written, though I'll admit that I am no expert in the historic or legal or politic aspects of homosexuality rights. I'm just a person who thinks that discrimination is wrong, and urge you all to think the same.

Thanks for reading.

--Dreaming of a World Free of Hate, Karin Novelia 

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

A Hunger for Entertainment

Dystopia. It is a word that I have learnt its meaning only recently in my researches regarding literary works. I often turn on my laptop and surf the net finding titles of books that pique my interest and the Hunger Games was definitely one of them.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins falls into the dystopian category for its setting in a rather bleak and fallen civilization. I watched it on the big screen yesterday evening, and note that while I will attempt to review the movie, in the loosest sense of the term since most of my attempts at objectivity to turn out to have a slight hint of emotional attachment, I have yet to read the Hunger Games trilogy and so cannot give a comparison between the written works and movies.

The story begins rather ominously with a simple, blankly black screen with fading words that foretell the history behind the fantasized nation's current state and the creation of the spectacle that is the hunger Games. Suddenly we are thrust into a district that is nestled away in some niche among the forests, reminiscent of times of war and hardship where people work hard to meet there needs, being thrown into a state of depravity that it's obvious everyone is struggling to keep themselves clean or fed.

The cinematography in this movie is spectacular. Though some might find some scenes to be too drawn out, that's the way things are more likely to play out in real life. In silence, as the character is in deep thought. It's not like real life has its own background music now does it? The hallucination scene was a real treat. The stop and start choppiness of the transitions, the breaks in sound (which I initially thought was a malfunction in the theater's sound system) gives a very good interpretation of what dwindling mental state is like. The scene where the coal-mine blew up, presumably with Katniss' father in it and the drowned out screams of Katniss at her catatonic mother had a powerful effect that made my eyes water. It was moving, and gave insight the reason why Katniss is as hardened and stoic as she is. The riveting soundtrack and use of effects also added depth to the experience.

Speaking of the protagonist, Katniss Everdeen, what I like about the characters is that they're well thought out, complex but not dynamically so, consistent in their demeanor and way of doing things. She's lean, strikingly beautiful (though oblivious to that fact) and in hard times knows how to handle things, such as hunt with a bow. She remains pretty cold and guarded for the first half of the movie, embracing her 'I don't make friends easily' self and coming off as slightly bad-ass.

Then there's Peeta Mellark, the second half of District 12's star-crossed lovers, was a bit of a cliche though to be honest, the distant lover who has crushed on the main character for so long, it seems to have turned into an undying and unconditional love. He is rather the underdog, being the weaker of the pair, but he does have hidden skills like massive upper body strength and camoflage.

I'd prefer to see more of Gale though, his almost brotherly relationship with Katniss is something I'd like to see. The love triangle between them and Peeta will surely spark some drama in the coming sequels. Building up to the premiere, I've seen that many of the original books fans weren't that happy with casting. Again, I have not read the books so I cannot compare the movie versions to the ones described in the books, but I think Jennifer Lawrence looks stunning. The dark hair suits her, and her features to give a sort of deadly beauty look. Though I'm not sure about Josh Hutcherson. He did some decent acting, but I just don't like his hair blond. I swear, in some scenes I kept on wondering where HIS EYEBROWS went.

On that note of outward appearances, the opening parade that introduced the Tributes to the Capitol, was a spectacular show. The make-up and costume department certainly had a lot to work with, if they build off what Suzanne Collins had written in her books. The exaggeration of pop culture in the Capitol residents' hair and make-up gave the whole world a comical and other-worldly feel. The costumes during the parade were just as exagerrated, but admitedly so to give District 12 a chance to shine. It is a good stroke of luck though that Peeta and Katniss managed to end up with nice team of the well-tasted Cinna and the experienced though eccentric and drunk Haymitch as mentor. The use of fire, earning her the title of "The Girl on Fire", as their main selling-point was really inspired.

Fire is hot and eerily beautiful in a way. It can be made, but then go beyond your control. You can use it to your advantages, or it can be used to hurt you. It symbolizes blazing spirits, fiery tempers and power. It's a force of nature and has the BBC's Sherlock once said, "exposes our priorities".

Plot-wise, the climax of a fight to death lets us question that side of our humanity: what lengths will we go to for some 'entertainment'? Like the citizens of Panem's Capitol, do we hunger for entertainment like they do?

It's true that while in real-life we do not pit ourselves against the other to kill each other off, we still do some pretty inhumane things because we find them funny. Take bullying for example. We ridicule someone, bring them down, in more extreme cases, use physical violence, make a spectacle out of a another person's weakness and laugh at such a thing. Then of course there's the obvious pro-wrestling, which thankfully I haven't seen much on air these past few years. And we do all these things for what? Entertainment? A quick buck?

If our current paradigms do not shift, who's not to say that our civilization won't end up as barbaric as the one in the Hunger Games?

Just some food for thought. Another thing plot-wise, I couldn't help but find Katniss and Peeta's love to be very cheesy and well, fake. Again, haven't read the books for reference, but I theorize that it was all just a ploy to get out of the Games alive. Haymitch did say that he could sell the whole 'star-crossed' lover bit, and maybe they used it in their favor. Though in a way, that is a double-edged sword, seeing how Katniss is sort of obligated to keep her charade, assuming Peeta is oblivious to her acting and his feelings are actually real. Then there's the whole Gale thing.

Overall I'd give the movie a good 4 stars out of 5, my only complaint is that the main theme and plot is a bit cliched, but it does appeal to a broader, younger demographic.

Well, I guess that my first review. Though I doubt I've written anything assembling to one, since I am, gently-put, opinionated and tend to drone on and on than anyone would care to read. Maybe I should think of a proper template to review upon, the clear aspects I want to talk about such as Cinematography, Set and Costume Design, Soundtrack, Characters, Plot, etc. (Well, lookie, I guess I just did).

That's all for now. Hope you have a good life and are at least a little bit entertained by my writings here on this blog. Thanks for taking the time to read. 'Till the next post then.

And may the odds be ever in your favor. ;)

--Karin Novelia, Happy-Go-Lucky Cinema-Goer

Open-mindedly Opinionated

As far as my latest post goes, I'm still unsure of my current mental state.

But getting my thoughts written out was a huge relief, even though it was on a touchy topic. It was something that was always on my mind, always had my doubts about, and getting that off my chest has eased my slumber these days.

Like my tag-line says: I'm writing for the sake of self-expression.

And though that is what I'm doing, I realize that having an outlet for my negative and funny feelings shouldn't overpower the positive ones.

So, as a writer's promise, I vow to bring you lovely (and evidently loyal and not all that numerous) readers more cheery posts. People might not think this from me, not having a good way with spoken words, but I can be a bit of a chatterbox, especially when I'm talking about something I'm really into. I can probably go on for days on end if there was noone (or even myself) to stop me.

I guess one of the main reasons that I'm quiet around others is that my preferred topic of discussion aren't that mainstream. I have yet to meet someone with my tastes, and so find myself lacking a conversation companion. The fact that I cannot openly speak in English also proves to a disadvantage.

Oh well. Maybe Singapore will change that, though honestly I cannot understand a single word of Singlish.

I've always liked writing reviews. Lengthy and emotionally opinionated ones about things I see, hear, watch or read. So I'm planning on writing them out here, from books to art to movies, anything and everything I feel like sharing.

My strong opinionated sense of judgment is evident from my last post on religion, but please do note that while I can hold onto a point or perspective agressively, I do not immediately dismiss other's thoughts, so feel free to share.

I watched The Hunger Games today, which was quite amazing, but since it's late, I'll tell you more about it tomorrow.

'Till then.

--Your Honorable Blogger, Karin Novelia.

General Questions to The Universe

When it comes to matters of religion, I must admit I'm on the fence on what I believe.

If we look at the way I was brought up, I'm a Roman Catholic. That's what it says on paper at least. My father is a Roman Catholic, he was the one that always insisted on going to church. Not that I didn't like church, I just found it really difficult to wake up in the morning when I was a kid, heck, I have trouble getting out of bed now. I'd prefer going to church in the afternoon, if possible.

I'm not really sure why my Dad's a Roman Catholic. Whenever I visit my grandparents they burn incense and stuff like that, more into Chinese tradition of sorts. Maybe he converted when he was older, I don't know. I'm curious about these things but how to go about asking about them politely eludes me.

My Mom, and most of her family are devoted Christians. She's definitely the most religious of the family, always giving long lectures, quoting the bible like she'd read it cover to cover and comitted every word to memory. You'd figure that a marriage between a Roman Catholic man and Christian woman wouldn't bring out that much conflict, but the two religions are significantly more different than most people would care to perceive.

Let's just say I don't go to church as much as I'd like to anymore.

Do I believe in God? Honestly, I'm not sure. When I was a kid, I was told that God was a man who created the universe, had a human kid named Jesus who mother was the Virgin Mary, and who looked just like us but could do amazing things. That inspired me the most, I think. Someone who looks ordinary but claims he is extraordinary and proves so by doing amazing things.

Mom likes to call him a lot of different names, like Saviour, the Merciful. But she likes to call him Dad, Father. I used to think that he was some guy in a white robe with a lot facial hair (An older version of how Jesus is usually portrayed), and had a palace in the clouds and sat on a throne above a mirror that overlooked absolutely everything and had this huge halo made of light, which I sometimes pictured as this glowing crown.

Childish, imaginative perceptions aside, now that I've grown, I've seen a lot of matters differently, including religion. I do partake in Mass very seriously, unlike many other peers who play with their phones or chatter excessively. I see the good values that religion does have to offer -- be kind to your fellow man, respect your parents and all that jazz. I exercise all those moral values as much as I can, in fact, its thanks to those sound moral foundations that I live a life less burdened with guilt or regret (even though being a goody two-shoes might find you all alone).

But I find it hard to believe in God when I feel he does little to contribute in my life.

Would falling down onto my knees and praying really help me achieve success? It would perhaps do a great deal of calming my soul, blind faith is sometimes what is needed to face the darkness of times ahead. But 'all talk and no action' isn't exactly a good way to go about things now, is it?

What good is faith if it does little to provoke us into action? I've always relied on my choice of action, my drive to do something about my situation. Praying and hoping things will change isn't enough. You have to do something about it. That belief has made my heavily reliant on my own capabilities, my own power that perhaps it has made turn away from 'a higher power' that doesn't intervene as quickly or as often as I would like. My life is the result of my own choices and actions, not the amount of time I spend praying.

The concept of religion and the moral values it teaches is sound. However, the mortal people who preach and practice it have started to corrupt it. I'm not an expert on these things but I have heard about the controversy of the Catholic hierarchy, something to do with sex scandals and things I tend not to indulge myself with anyway. It's become a 21st Century dilemma really. People who go to church might not be as angelic as they seem. Though, in reality it's not that different from the Biblical times when Jesus called those religious men 'two-faced'.

What we believe has a lot to do with our actions, the way we express those beliefs and interpret them. Would you prefer to be a 'religious' man who goes to church often, prays often everyday, but does little to help others, or continues to do things that are frowned upon OR would you rather not go to church and not neccessarily believe in God but belief the moral goodness of humanity and strive to uphold that?

Another reason for my shaky faith might be the fact that I'm beginning to see more bad around me than good. Whenever you turn on the news there's always something horrible happening somewhere around the world. Suicide bombings continue to happen in Iraq or Sudan or some other Middle Eastern country. Somewhere, some mentally ill man has commited murder, arson, suicide. War continues to rage. People are poor, starving. Tsunamis, earthquakes, tornadoes. Children are crying, dying. And there's nothing I can do about it.

Would praying bring those people, who lived an unfair life and died far too soon, back? Would praying make their situations any better? Would God really let all these bad things happen? Why? For what reason?

So no, maybe I don't believe in God. But I do believe in humanity. There's hope for us yet. Maybe in the end, that's what really matters.

Though I do not care for labelling my religion or object of faith, such as 'God', I do believe there is some force that drives the world, our world, clandestinely, beyond my or your comprehension.

For now, I'd rather just submit few questions to the ominous-force-behind-the-universe:

1). What do you look like, oh divine power? Are you like the air, unseen but present? Or are you nothing and everything at once? Or are you what we choose to perceive? Do you let us see or believe in you the way we want to see you as?

2). What's it like having all that power? Are you like what everyone else says? A divine force completely made of... good? Is it true that all you let happen in this world serves some greater purpose, some greater good? Or are you not what we think at all? Are you something that feeds on this endless power, that abuses it just like we'd abuse it, given the chance?

3). How did you come to be? It's hard to comprehend that before you created everything there is now, there was absolutely nothing. What would nothing be like? Didn't we invent the term nothing? Would the universe be an empty void of blackness? If we invented the term nothing and see it as such, then it doesn't really exist at all, right? How can there be nothing in the beginning when we created nothing? As I child I use to imagine that time would stop still and just start going into reverse. Everything around me would start to disappear, one by one, until I would be the last thing to disappear. Imagining what nothing would be like made my head hurt. It still does now. Then how did you come to be? How did something as great as you come from... nothing?

4). Do have a consciousness? Like can you actively think, produce thoughts? Or do you just act out of instinct, like a robot or something? Like you just know what needs to be done and do it, without question? If you can think, do you have feelings then? Does it hurt you seeing all the darkness start to engulf the world? Does it make you cry to see someone die a horrible death or live in a world that is just so unfair? If you have feelings, do you care? If you care then do you care enough to do something about it? To intervene? If you do care then why don't you? Do something about all this, I mean. I don't expect you to fix everything in an instant, that would be too easy for us. Then why do things seem to become even worse?

5). If you do exist, what are your thoughts on religion? Do you approve of them? I approve of the concept and moral teachings but disapprove the corrupting actions. Would you agree with me? Religion is, I suppose, a human invention. If you were the one who first created religion, would things be better? Would we be more guided than lost? Why don't you stop being so enigmatic then? If there's a clear-cut way to a righteous life then why not just show the clear path, at least for those who are willing to take it?

6). Why do I feel so unhappy lately? Why am I suddenly seeing so many dark things? If everyone else can live so ignorantly happy, why can't I? Why do I care so much? Why do I care so much for all the people who are suffering out there, beyond my control, beyond my reach of sympathy or help? People I don't even know, have never even met? Are you testing me? Why me then? Is this your funny way of telling people they're special? Make them go through hell just so they can emerge the better person? Because that's what what you want them to be?

7). Can I be like Jesus? Can you think of me as one of your children? Can I claim myself to extraordinary and do things like he did? Would you help?

8). Why is that everytime I go looking for you, for your face, for your help that it suddenly seems like you're not even there? Is it some kind of punishment? For doubting you, not believing in you? I'm trying okay. I don't know what else to say. I'm trying.

9). When I pray, do you really listen? Or do you just ignore me and listen to someone else's more deserving pleas? Can I even communicate with you? Am I even worthy of your time? Or am I just talking to myself?

10). Speaking of time, I wonder if you 'age'. I wonder if in someway time has changed you, affected you. Does it? Or are you just the same  as you've always been? Just... there.

11). Does it hurt? To die? What does it feel like, to have the life you've given us just... drain out of us? Where does that 'life' go? Where do we go?

12). When we die, will you be there? Will we finally be able to see you, to understand you? Or would that only be those that go to heaven? Will you be the one to take us there? Who takes us to hell then? If there is one?

13). What's hell really like? Did you create that as well? Like a dump for all the bad people, I suppose. Have you met Lucifer, or the Devil, or the entity that is your dark, mirrored self? Do guys have tea together or something (haha) and negotiate things like who goes to whose domain? Does he (it?) even exist? Or are you just one in the same?

14). Does heaven exist? If it does, what's it like? Is it like I imagined as a child, an awesome palace up in the clouds? Or is it a matter of perception, what we choose for it be, our own private heaven? Would you let me talk to you, like have a proper chat with me, if I ever do happen to make it up there?

15). How many people are up in heaven? Do we live together or seperately? Could I talk to some people? Is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle up there? I'd love to talk to him. Freddie Mercury? Kurt Cobain? Whitney Houston? Amy Winehouse? Do have parties up there? I wouldn't mind joining in for a song or two.

16). Do angels exist? Like with the white-feather wings and everything? Did they used to be like us, mortal beings? Or do you just make them seem that way, that human, to us? If they are like us, can I be an angel too?

17). Last and most important question of all: Why are you so frustrating?

-- Calling Out To The Universe, Karin Novelia

And It All Comes Down To This

It's been 3 months now into the year 2012. Maybe it's a bit too early, but seriously, things have been pretty hectic around here. The 9th grade really kicked itself up a notch by throwing an array of tests, quizzes, Tryouts, Practical Exams and drama, and I must say I'm a bit overwhelmed.

Most overwhelming thing of all? Well, I'm not sure if I've written anything about here before, but I signed myself up for a scholarship application in Singapore. And guess what? I got it.

Now, before you throw congratulations around, I'm still not sure how I feel about this scholarship thing, about a month later since signing a damn contract.

First of all, the test was a bit... easy. Mathematics weren't always my forte, but the limited time also was a main factor in me not finishing the 2 hour test of 30 something questions. The English one was also surprisingly easy. The other applicants in my school took a special preparation course called Ignatius, and the kind of question they gave them were far more advanced then what was being tested.

I honestly did not expect me to get a chance at that scholarship. I mean, I was in the mindset that the standards would be very high. And passing, well... makes you wonder doesn't it?

After the written tests, I was asked to come to Hotel Atalia for an interview. I skip school the next day, but it turns out I have no ride. Rotten luck, you'd probably think, right? Wrong. I was thinking it was the world conspiring, strengthening the idea that this scholarship thing wasn't meant to be.

And then my Mom goes into super mode and orders us a cab. Interviews weren't that nerve-wracking, though the wait was boring and prolonged. Speaking in English was definitely an advantage, and a few hours later the results were posted and ta-daa! My name was on it.

Of course there was some sense of mirth. I practically tried bailing on interviews, I get the scholarship anyway. Twisted kind of punishment, I suppose. Then there was a tad sense of accomplishment. I did it. I actually got it. Then of course, the whole ease of it all nagged a the back of my mind, and I was starting to wonder if it was going to be worth it in the end.

So why did I end up signing my name? Not for personal reasons, obviously.

When I first considered applying, I asked my parents, of course. But as usual, they provided adequate freedom and close to no input. So I figured I'd apply. I didn't expect to get it, anyway. If I did, did that mean I have to take it? I later found out that I sort of had to. Something to do with courtesy and social niceties and avoid being blacklisted, which I still cannot manage to fully comprehend (inner sociopath talking, guys).

I also pondered on the slim chance that I did get accepted. A few factors did jump at me. First, the financial burden would be almost non-existent. On a full scholarship. That meant my parents wouldn't have to spent so much money on my education. Speaking form the heart, my family's not exactly poor, but their not like most kids whose parents make so much more.

I'm taking this scholarship more for them than me. I can still remember the look on my Mom's face when I told her. She looked so happy, so relieved. She also looked at me so... proud.

Sure, the prospect of living on my own, more independantly, appealed to me, as I continued to talk myself into this. But it also seemed a bit lonely. A proper school, with proper facilities and a better curriculum, would help bring out the best in me. Wasn't I always feeling so unchallenged here? But it also seems like a lot of pressure.

When ever I feel like bailing, giving up, not set myself up for a life of stress and expectations of perfection, and opt for settling for a live a little more ordinary. A little more safe.

Hell. What was I thinking? I'm through with being ordinary. I want to be extraordinary. I want to go far.

But as much as I want to be the best I can be, something keeps on asking me to stay. My family. I practically act as the glue for the disfunctionality. If I left, how long would they last before they unravel?

Would it be worth it to go abroad, study, become highly-educated and successful and perhaps rich and famous, but leaving my family behind albeit for just a few years? Or would it be better to stay and just look after them, settle for being an auto-dictact and learn about the world from the confines of home, as long as I stayed with family?

I'm getting a little emo here, I know. In hindsight, it might be better to vent here than to start talking to a skull.

Laterz.

-- Planning Out The Future, Karin Novelia

Resolutions Renewed

At the end of each year, everyone parties 'til midnight, enjoying their final moments and look hopefully towards the future. We make wishes, make plans, start imagining what the coming year will be like. They even promise to be better, to do things different. Those promises are called New Year's Resolutions.

I have no idea why I'm having so much trouble coming up with my resolutions this year. I guess I'm afraid I'll set my expectations too high and disappoint myself too much. My plans for the coming year are honestly, way too blurry for my liking. I'm not really sure of what I want.

(Vague) Plans for 2012:

1. There's this 'plan' I want to initiate, school-wise. I might have to put myself out there and 'take control' of a few things, but perhaps the risk needs to be taken.
2. Family matters have gotten better, let's hope the togetherness continues to grow :)
3. Friends of course, need as much work as a relationship. And it gets tough when we're all so busy, but we should at least try to talk once in a while :) Jevel, GPRS <3
4. Get more focused on school work and grades. Don't let them slip. Stay concentrated on KIR Writing, too.
5. Maybe start building up my resume.
6. Love life? Meh. Let's not get distracted this year, shall we?
7. Stay commited to the AYC after-plan. Kupang is going well so far, and if I keep us this diligence, then the work will just breeze on by :)
8. Personally, I still need a lot of self-improving to do. I have started to step up to the plate this year, but it's still not enough. Maybe I'm afraid of putting myself in the spotlight, and storming the barricades especially when I feel I'm on my own, but if it's something I feel passionate about doing then I have to suck it up and do it. The best things happen when people dare to take risks.

I'm not sure about the resolutions I've written. They do seem very vague, and I strangely don't feel all that emotional this New Year's Eve. Oh, well. I'm still optimistic of what's to come, at least :)

So...

HAPPY NEW YEAR'S EVERYONE! 2011 HAS BEEN A BLAST, NOW IT'S IN THE PAST! TREASURE THE MOMENTS BUT DON'T LET THEM HOLD YOU BACK! LOOKING FORWARD TO 2012! IT'S DEFINITELY GONNA BE BLAST! :D

-- Karin Novelia, Looking Forward For What's To Come :)