Prabowo atau Jokowi, opini seorang anarkis

An obligatory Pusheen picture.

Kelingking saya perawan.

Saya adalah sifat anarkis yang menjelma menjadi seorang manusia. Umur saya 22 tahun, tapi saya tidak pernah mencoblos sekali pun seumur hidup. Awalnya bermula karena saya tidak pernah berada di Indonesia ketika periode pemilu berlangsung, tapi entah sejak kapan ke-golput-an menjadi sesuatu yang saya banggakan. Bahkan ketika Starbucks atau vendor-vendor lain mengiming-imingi pencoblos dengan diskon dan promo lainnya, saya masih menjaga keperawanan kelingking saya dan bersikeras mempertahankan ke-golput-an saya.

Dengan enggan saya mengakui ini, tapi saya baru tahu bulan lalu kalau mencoblos dilakukan dengan menggunakan paku. Saya selalu berpikir bahwa aktivitas pencoblosan dilakukan dengan mencelupkan jari kelingking ke tinta dan mencobloskan jari bertinta tersebut ke kertas. 

Saya adalah orang yang cukup pintar. Jika IQ adalah satu-satunya indikasi kepintaran, saya lebih pintar dari 98% manusia di bumi ini. Sayangnya, IQ bukanlah indikasi kepintaran yang sah. Dan saya telah menunjukkan betapa terbelakangnya saya dalam urusan politik.

Oleh karena itulah, saya tidak akan menulis dari sudut pandang politik, atau bahkan mengenai bagaimana Mr. P dilanda tuduhan mendalangi kerusuhan Mei 1998, atau tuduhan penculikan dua mahasiswa menjelang Orde Baru, atau bahkan tuduhan kudetanya terhadap pemerintahan Habibie. Karena kita tidak akan bisa tahu mengenai kebenaran isu-isu tersebut.

Melainkan, saya ingin mengalihkan perhatian kita kepada isu-isu lain yang lebih saya kuasai, ekonomi. Sebenarnya, topik balet juga lebih saya kuasai jika dibandingkan dengan politik. Anyway.

Salah satu janji dalam kampanye Mr. P yang sangat menarik perhatian saya adalah ketika ia mengatakan akan menaikkan upah buruh menjadi enam juta Rupiah, atau menjadi 2.5 kali lipat dari upah buruh yang sekarang. Janji ini, tentu saja, menarik bagi para buruh yang kurang memiliki pengertian tentang kondisi ekonomi makro Indonesia. 

Mari kita anggap  perusahaan-perusahaan yang memperkerjakan buruh-buruh tersebut tidak keberatan membayar enam juta Rupiah untuk tiap buruh per bulannya. Kenaikan gaji buruh sebesar 150% berimplikasi kenaikan biaya produksi setidaknya 150%. Tentu, buruh-buruh sekalian akan memiliki nominal uang yang lebih banyak dari sebelumnya. Hal yang mereka tidak ketahui adalah konsep inflasi. Dengan membengkaknya biaya produksi, tentunya harga setiap barang di market akan mengalami kenaikan yang signifikan juga. Janji Mr. P ini bukannya mensejahterakan kehidupan buruh, melainkan malah menghancurkan perekonomian Indonesia.

Janji manis ini hanyalah memperkuat poin yang diulas oleh Anies Baswedan dalam pidatonya "Mengapa Jokowi?" Dalam pidato tersebut, Anies Baswedan mengatakan bahwa seorang pemimpin harus memiliki pengertian mendalam tentang ekonomi makro; selain itu, ia juga menyindir mengenai Mr. P yang menelan mentah-mentah estimasi kebocoran anggaran negara sebesar 7,000 triliun Rupiah yang dikemukakan oleh KPK.

Tujuh ribu triliun Rupiah. Just let that sink in. PDB Indonesia pada tahun 2012 hanyalah sebesar 878 miliar USD (atau 8,780 triliun Rupiah). Masak sih anggaran negara bocor 80% dari PDB? Lak yo gak mungkin toh?

Bahkan ketika melihat debat antar capres, saya rasa cukup jelas siapa di antara mereka berdua yang lebih menguasai isu-isu yang mendesak Indonesia. Berbicara murni dari sudut pandang ekonomi, cukup jelas lah pemimpin mana yang akan membawa Indonesia ke arah yang seharusnya.

10 tahun sudah Indonesia dipimpin oleh seorang presiden yang, jika kita telaah ke belakang, prestasi positif terbesarnya adalah menciptakan empat album lagu. Tiba kiranya kita memilih sebuah pemimpin yang berani melakukan sesuatu, seorang pemimpin yang memang turun tangan. 

Jokowi baru saja menghabiskan sepertiga masa jabatannya sebagai gubernur Jakarta, namun kita sudah dapat merasakan apa yang Beliau lakukan. Pluit tak lagi merasakan air bah tiap musim hujan dan Tanah Abang sekarang sudah lebih bersahabat. Bayangkan apa yang akan Beliau lakukan jika diangkat menjadi pemimpin Indonesia?

Tulisan ini bukanlah sebuah persuasi, melainkan sebuah justifikasi. Saya hanyalah seorang bocah ingusan yang berpikir bahwa coblosan itu dilakukan menggunakan jari bertinta. Saya rasa para pembaca sekalian lebih berwawasan dan bisa memilih pemimpin yang akan membawa Indonesia ke jalan yang sebenarnya.

Kelingking saya perawan. Tapi untuk Jokowi, saya bersedia melepaskannya.

Why am I still single?

Let's play a guessing game.

How old, do you think, is Earth?

If you're like me and are totally oblivious to geology and history, chances are you might guess around millions. If, for whatever reason, you guessed two thousands years old, please close your browser and tell your parents they gave birth to an idiot. Earth, actually, is 4.54 billion years old. 

How old, then, is Humanity?

The answer for this question varies. Some say it's 6,000 years old. Some say it ranges somewhere between 100,000-200,000 years old. I wouldn't delve into technicality. Yet, my point remains. Humanity is old.

Which brings me to my other question, how old do you think you're gonna be when you die?

Probably 70. Or 80 if you're lucky. Maybe 90. Unless scientists develop some amazing gene manipulation process that would allow gene revitalisation, we inevitably die. I would. You would. For your parents and mine, my pets and yours, your significant other, your children, their children, death is inevitable.

Then what happens when we die? And I'm not talking about life after death or about heaven and/or nirvana or hell. I'm talking about the people we leave behind; what would they do when we die?

Compared to how long Humanity (or Earth) has existed, we're really just a speck of dust in this evolution process. One day, we would die and everyone else we leave behind would cry. Maaayyyybe they would pray or burn some incense.

And then they would move on with their lives. 

Augustus Waters, the protagonist in The Fault in Our Stars admitted that his deepest fear was Oblivion. He feared being forgotten. To have walked off this Earth and forgotten and disregarded as just another mortal. 

Being forgotten is terrible. And I also am afraid of it. Probably second only to cockroaches. Before I die, I would like to leave something, anything. That way when I'm dead and people think of me, they would also think of the things I leave behind. They would look at the scar I gashed on this world, and realise that I. Have. Lived. That I was not just another person who walked this Earth lightly without leaving something.

Which brings me to the title of this post. Why am I single?

Countless people had asked me this question before I decided to write this post. There are so many reasons I could churn as to why I'm not in a relationship: Haven't found the right one, not yet ready financially, still need my freedom, and probably another dozen excuses. But really, the reason I'm still walking alone is because I need to gash a scar in this world; because I want to leave behind something less temporary than myself. And being in a relationship doesn't help me achieve that.

It just so happens that my preferred method of scar-inducing is writing.

What's yours?

On friend zone

The term friend zone actually was derived in 1994 from one of "Friends" episode, a sitcom that has been around since God-knows-when. Despite this post is written for guys, it is also applicable to girls, although girls are rarer to be friend-zoned.

There are actually two kinds of friend zone: Pseudo friend zone and True friend zone.

1. Pseudo friend zone

I don't know what your definition of friend zone is, but most guys I know say that they've been friend-zoned because they're too nice and the girls they're attracted to don't want to risk their friendship. Hence, putting him in the forever friend zone. This is what I call by the pseudo friend zone.

It's really a stupid concept. On looking for a potential partner, we don't just check whether or not someone is kind enough for us. We also check, whether consciously or not, for other factors, such as: cuteness, hotness, intelligence, family background, and other dozen stuff I can probably list down forever. 

When someone thinks that your defects outweigh the kindness you offer, chances are they are no longer interested in you. And since their parents had taught them to be kind to others, they didn't want to hurt your feelings by saying, "Fuck you, you're too ugly, do the world a favor and go celibate so no girl should ever have to go through the pain of dating you." Instead, they say "Aww, you're too kind. I just don't want to ruin what we have right now for a minuscule chance of relationship."

Boom. You cry and cry and curse the sky because, fuck life, you have been "friend-zoned." All because you were too nice to Her. Or at the very least, that's what you think. The truth is just that She doesn't think you're a potential partner. 

You are NOT in a friend zone, you are in a not-boyfriend-material zone. It's easier for you to use the "Yeah, nice guys finish last" excuse rather than admitting that you have asymmetrical eyes or that you have an oedipus complex.

So, how do you escape it?

Simple. You change. As Einstein stated, "The surest sign of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result." Be a better guy.

Afterall, you can't force someone to love you; all you can do is make yourself into someone worthy of love. Sure, it's easier said than done. Then it comes back to you again. Do you like Her that much that you can't imagine spending the rest of your life with another girl? If you answered yes, then better yourself. If no, then you might want to start looking for other girls.

2. True friend zone

This is a much less common occurrence than its counterpart. 

Maybe you knew Her since you were in highschool, but She had a boyfriend then. And when She broke up, you yourself had a girlfriend. Years passed and now, She became so gorgeous and smart and single. But before you both know it, you have been friends for far too long and She can't see you as someone other than Her friend. Hence, friend zone. This is the actual friend zone, not the pussilanimous excuse that guys use when a girl he barely knew for a month rejected her.

Quiz time. What is it?

It's a melon, duh. We have been taught all our lives that that is a melon. That kind of skin, that glowing orange-ish color, that sweet sweet fragrance, that oval shape, that tangy texture, they all are associated to a melon. If I were to ask you to label it as an apple, would you be able to pick it up in a supermarket, hold it up to your mom's face and say that you wanted an apple?

First impressions last, which is why it's strenuous to change the label on something. Her brain has associated your traits as that of a friend's. The way you talk to Her? A friend. The way you pick Her up and drop Her back to Her house? Another friend. The way you listen to her rant at midnight? Just a friend. The way you warmly smile and stare at her eyes as she tells you a story? Friend, friend, friend.

There are two ways to escape this kind of friend zone. First is the insane way, just keep doing whatever it is you're doing and hope that She is sensitive enough and realize that you wish to be something more than a friend.

Or.

Be upfront. Tell Her that you want to be more than friends. Force Her brain to relabel you from a friend to a potential boyfriend. And everything you do will no longer be a friend's actions, but a potential partner's.

Godspeed, people. Godspeed.

Dear no one

My lips would arch every time I see your dimple.

And don't even start about the butterflies in my bowel.

Your eyes would be my third and fourth favorite things in this whole world.

I would fix mine on yours when you talk and it would stay that way even when we get old.

We would read books comfortably in silence and drink our tea.

And I would snatch your cold hands and put them into mine when we're watching a movie.

Or maybe I would bring you a box of tissues when you're watching your stupid drama

and bring us a blanket while you fall asleep in the sofa. 

You would be my sleeping aid, my caffeine,

and everything in between.

I could have a very bad day,

and a kiss from you would shoo everything away.

Dear no one,

We could be the couple every single person is jealous of. 

Dear no one,

This is your love letter.

Dear no one, 

Hurry up and come.

A letter to a stranger

Dear stranger,

Breaking up, in my experience, can either be a somewhat easy thing to do or an utterly devastating one. In my case with you, it was the latter.

How are you? Are you dating someone right now? How did it feel to break a heart? Did mine leave your hands bloody? are the four questions I'm dying to ask you right now if you have bothered replying to any of the several 'Hey's I had mustered all my courage to type and send your way. But you didn't, so I just tucked all those questions inside my pillow and carry on like nothing ever happened.

I hope you're well, I really do. Unfortunately, I have no idea how you're doing right now, and I bet you don't even care how, out of all people, I'm doing. 

To be honest, you were the only person whom I'd voluntarily let get that close to me. We ordered coffee and made fun of strangers sitting around us, we nonchalantly made political jokes, we sneaked kisses in bookstores and cinemas. At that time, I thought (and boy, I couldn't be more wrong) I had finally found someone to walk with, someone to ride the roller coaster of life with.

I could still clearly remember how you looked as I pulled a bouquet of red and white roses: how your eyebrows arched, then how your eyes lit up, and immediately your lips made a lopsided smile; then the smile slowly made its way to your eyes, wrinkling the sides of your eyes and pulling your cheeks up. And the next thing I knew, your lips were on mine and your arms slithered around my back. But I guess you totally forgot about that now.

I fully understand chatting like a friend--like nothing has ever happened between us--is impossible. But is it that hard to annually text each other Happy Birthday? The whole world could congratulate me on how I managed to survive one Earth's full revolution around the Sun, but if you didn't, I couldn't care less.

Isn't it ironic how two people who were desperately trying to be as close as possible have now become two people who are trying their hardest to be strangers? I find it painfully peculiar and I hope you do, too.

You know what? I have no idea where I'm going with this letter. The more I write, the more miserable I become (and the more you know how low I've fallen). So I will end this letter here before I humiliate myself even further.

With much love,

Just another stranger.