Friday, November 23, 2007

Why House?

Shakespeare really screws us with his crafty quote,”What is a name? is he?” Well, thank God I met Roland Barthes.

Tahu nggak kira-kira kenapa Ahmad Dani kalau bikin lagu yang memuja wanita selalu ada nama Dewinya? Padahal kita tahu dia bertentangan dengan Ari Lasso dalam membuat lagu karena Dani mensuperiorkan laki-laki bukan wanita. Sedangkan Ari selalu mengagungkan perempuan. Apakah karena arti kata Dewi yang selalu bagus dan terhormat dijadikannya sebagai perimbangan dalam mensuperiorkan laki-laki di dalam lagu-lagunya, atau, pada dasarnya memang ada seseorang yang bernama Dewi yang lebih berarti dan masih melekat di hati Dani dibandingkan sang istri (atau mantan istri? Tau deh nggak pernah nonton infotainment lagi)?

Setiap nama sebaiknya punya banyak arti. Berlawanan lebih seru. Atau setidaknya kita menyuntikan satu arti yang selalu bisa mengingatkan kita mengapa kita menamakan sesuatu atau seseorang dengan nama yang kita ciptakan.

Contoh, Pria Berputar-putar
Saya saat ini memanggil seorang pria dengan panggilan bundar. Dia dan semua orang (kecuali kalian yang membaca ini) akan mengartikan saya memanggilnya seperti itu “hanya” karena badannya yang gempal, sebuah celaan biasa yang setara apabila ada orang kurus dipanggil ceking. Tapi buat saya ia adalah seseorang dengan cara berpikir yang berputar-putar seperti sebuah bola bundar yang berputar tak tentu arah sehinga ia pun sering sekali melupakan inti dari suatu masalah apalagi mengerti masalah besar dari masalah yang dihadapinya. He is always gone around the bend.

Contoh lain lagi, Perempuan Mengelupas
I call her flaky karena kulitnya mengelupas akibat terkena panas. Mengapa tidak freckless? Kok addicted to Lost bgt kalau pake ini, peeler? Mungkin kalau dia sangat tomboy, tapi juga kata ini deket sama punyanya cowok, gawat kalo salah eja. Atau Snakey? Sayangnya dia tidak gesit. Ok, alasan sebenarnya adalah selain kulitnya mengelupas, dia juga seseorang yang sering sekali bertindak foolish, silly and frivolous.

So, I think I’ve made my point about “the untold meaning” that every name usually or should have. Nah, sekarang sampailah di pertanyaan besar di kepala saya, kenapa namanya Gregory House? Not Gregory Adam, or Muhammad Gregory, or even Gregory Bush. Saya sudah bertanya kepada Mr. Anderson dan dia hanya menjawab kalau yang penting adalah untuk tetap percaya. Well, I don’t.

Saya kemudian mengambil pisau bedah buatan Roland Barthes dan mengorek-ngoreknya. Yang saya dapatkan kurang lebih adalah: karena apapun masalah yang ada dihadapinya, ia selalu memberikan ketenangan karena selalu berhasil menyelesaikan masalah dengan nilai-nilai dasar yang hanya bisa berkembang sempurna di dalam sebuah rumah, nilai-nilai seperti rasa peduli tanpa pamrih dan kebenaran yang benar benar benar.

Or, you know, not.

Monday, November 19, 2007

Miserable Moment

I was just wondering, about the day when my moment of the most miserable failure in my life took place. I don’t remember the exact date but I’m sure it was Sunday.

I remember that I was just finishing my homework and saw Doraemon on TV in the morning. Oh did you know Doraemon has been on our national TV for more than 17 years? Quite amazing, yes?

Anyway, my mom saw me sitting too close to the TV and asked me why I was doing that. I said it was blurry to watch the TV from distance. I didn’t realize what that weird blurry meant.

At noon, me, my father and my mother went to an airshow at Kemayoran. It was amazing. I saw the show with binoculars. It was incredible how the pilots piloted their plane. So engaging; very stunning, as if we were watching dancers in the sky. Those top guns also acted like great painters, filling the sky with beautiful colors and forms. But that wasn’t all. One of the pilots was my uncle!

Then he took me to see his jet at the hangar. It was an F-14 Tomcat, an assault fighter jet with great maneuverability and speed, my uncle told me with enthusiasm. What was most amazing that day was that I got to sit in the cockpit! I could hold the steering stick, and wear my uncle’s helmet. I told myself confidently, “I will be an ace.”

After the airshow, we didn’t go straight home. We went to an eye doctor at the Jakarta Eye Center in Cikini. My parents asked me to run some tests with the doctor. I didn’t argue much as I was still excited about the air show and about becoming a pilot.

The tests were just standard eye tests: reading some word charts with one eye, seeing a red dot in an eye microscope, and so on. The results came back instantly. My eye doctor said I got 1.25 minus in both eyes so it was necessary for me to wear glasses. I said that was okay as long as the glasses would fit in my pilot helmet. The room suddenly became silent.

Then my dad took me to another room and told me that a pilot must have a perfect or near perfect sighting ability. A pilot is not allowed to wear minus glasses. Bottom line: I could never be a pilot. It felt like Judgment Day. I was mad at my father, my doctor and also at myself. How could I let something like this happen to me? I should’ve taken care of my eyes more carefully. I should’ve protected them.

At home, I ripped up all of my airplane posters. I threw away all of my toy planes. I hated them.