It Feels Like Home

You know what first love was like. Like squirrels pretending to be busy with pine cones, I looked down at my notebook, my writing is nothing more that scribbles of gibberish words and stick figures. Every half of minute or so I stole a glance at him, who I didn't have, who I wasn't even sure that I want to have. But the possibility of it is what's teasing me. I quite liked the adrenaline. I liked letting my mind wander to the things I have never experienced before, it always have the best view, it does not know yet what could go wrong.

I thought he liked me too. Of the many instances that I gazed at him, I caught him looking back. So, I thought he stole glances, too, like I did, so I started keeping track of the times that our eyes met. We never talked, well, close to never, unless you count hi bye's in. I was too afraid of the things that I would say wrong or too afraid of rejections. Some of my close friends knew, except one, because I knew that she liked him, too. She confessed that to me, actually, to many people. But, the fact that she did it first denied me the right and access to say what I truly wanted to say to her. I thought that was what a good friend suppose to do, to let your friend have their one of the first fantasies of love, because you started to understand yourself how wonderful it was. Especially when I felt that he had something towards me, which I got from the glances. I truly thought so. But, in the end, neither of us ended up with him. Towards the end of semester, he got together with a girl whom I thought did not suit him. I did not understand, didn't we have something?

Another good friend of mine liked a boy whom I knew liked me. This time it was more than glances. It was borrowing books, trying to joke around, calling, but somehow I wasn't interested. There was a period when I was quite the feminist. I had things going right in life, I did not need boys around. I remember telling an older girl that I did not know what is the purpose of being in a relationship. From what I saw what kids my age would do is hang around holding hands, and nobody lasted over a year. I said to her, I did not want to play around, I did not understand what I should do if I am in a relationship with somebody who I didn't really know, what would we talk about? Therefore, I adamantly stated, I would only have a boyfriend when I am in college. I wish now that she had countered my arguments, but she didn't. I think I convinced her. The boy did come and ask me out. I said no. Then, I could not hold myself from letting my good friend who liked him know about all these. She did what a good friend suppose to do, listen and let your friend had the first experience of being on the powerful side of rejection. Then, after that, watched as karma came back to do some ass-biting.

I blamed it on hormone imbalance. You could certainly disagree. Not long after I rejected him, I started to grow some feelings. Don't ask why, I never had reasons for most of the things I did at that age. But it was too late, and revenge was more powerful that rejection. Long story short, he asked another girl out right in front of me. People asked me, are you alright? Standing up for my pride I said, yeah, it was a mean thing that he did, and she was stupid enough to want to be what obviously was a rebound. But, I laid down thinking that night that I was probably the stupid one, a laughing stock, the girl with ridiculous stands, trying to be smart when she's not. And I got my heart broken, which funnily did not leave me feeling sad, but somehow angry.

Those were some of the first loves that shaped my heart. Through which I broke hearts and got mine broken, too. But, those were the necessaries, that taught teenagers that love is more than glances and attractions, and friends while being together in confusions, sometimes have to suddenly become more mature and do what friends do. And those are the things that finally make you believe the cheesy lyric of a pop song by Rascal Flatts, "God bless the broken road, the lead me straight to you." It's funny how time enables you to laugh at yourself who were being laughed at by others. It's funny how love teaches balances, good bad, yes no, ugly beautiful, past and future.

Boys are never my forte, unfortunately. I was uneasy around them. When I was 19, I was asked, do you know what kind of wedding dress you want to wear? Things like that were the furthest things from my imagination, I could not even make up a lie about it. The best answer I would have was: White? Girls who had dresses, venues, menus made up in their minds for their weddings at an early age were just those in movies. In real life, we just don't do that, I thought. My close friends were somehow not attached, too. So, I didn't have any pressure to go into any relationship. But, I have to admit that there were moments in my early twenties when I started to wonder, what is it like to have a boyfriend?

At the end of my senior year, I got my answers. When you felt that you are with the right one, everything becomes easy; you become easy. I started to let my guards down. Being a twenty something girl with no experience at a relationship, I was told by some that I was playing it hard. Some tried to scare me by telling me that when I am 40 and still have nobody, I would just take anyone and regretted my earlier decisions. But, the truth is, I wasn't playing hard. The guys that I fancy do not like me, and vice versa. Like Michael Buble would say, it's as simple as: I just haven't met you yet. When I did say yes to the guy who asked me out, what was my answer to my previous question? One word: mind-boggling. I could not believe that there is somebody whom I liked, who liked me back. Somehow the probability does not make sense in my mind. My mom, in the nicest way told me that it's a miracle. Thanks, Mom. But, it's probably true, some sort of a miracle just happened. I just couldn't believe that it happened to me.

That first day of our relationship, was awkwardly beautiful. It was the first time somebody had really hold my hand. He was reserved, he asked first for my hand. He dropped me off at my apartment and had wanted to walk me to my door. I said, no it's OK, I can walk myself there. I have always walked myself, and wouldn't be incapable of that once I got a boyfriend. I wasn't smart enough to just let him do it. He was sick, unfortunately, so he went back to his place to rest. He said he'll come back to my place before he leaves town in the afternoon. I got back to my apartment and started calling some friends excitedly to tell them the good news. I locked myself in the bathroom and did silly dances. I cooked the best porridge that I could for him to take for dinner. When he came back to my place, he gave me a hug before going off. We'll see each other again in a week. I told him that I had to get used to this, I meant the hugging. But, I knew that nice things would not take long to get used to. I've always been a fast learner anyways, or at least that's what I say in interviews.

Two and half years later from that first day, it's hard to pick where to start when talking about what has changed. A lot, I felt like. But at the same time, it's like being on a swing. You move a lot, but you are swinging around the same spot. You just feel more comfortable and less fearful of the heights. A lot of the personality is still there. We are together, yet are still two different people. So, the differences that we have seen since the beginning are still around, the similarities that bring us together are still around too. So you can imagine that although we are closer together and we grow into each other, the things we fight about are the same things that came up in the first 2 weeks of the relationship. Some may say that means you are not progressing, but I think the progress lies in the fact that now we know that we start to accept differences or willing to try change ourselves for the better.

This summer 3 of my girl friends experience love. One got together with a guy from Australia, one is in something called Ta'aruf which is a relationship above merely being boyfriend and girlfriend and somewhere below an engagement, and the other one is exploring the possibility of being together with an American. So, all of us are in a long distance relationship. We sat down on a late Friday night (three of us, the other one has left Ithaca) in a bar-like restaurant over cups of frozen yogurt discussing our takes on love, on how a girl should be to a guy, on how we feel towards touches, on special occasions in a relationship, on the possibility of marriage, on what girls usually fall for and on anything we felt like talking about. For me, I felt much different than where I was as a 14 year old girl trying to define the love that I would want (I'd be scared if I am not). I felt like we've moved away from mere glances or touching hands, we are learning that love is seeing: what's good and bad, what to change or retain, arranging future, etc. It is also holding: the words you partner say, trusting his decisions, his heart and your own heart close to you. And it's talking, A LOT of it: skype, calls, emails, text, bbm, and prayers. Love is no longer about the drama, heart breaks, or crushes, it feels more like real life, it feels like a gift. As you grow up, you'd be thankful of a gift, but you wouldn't be on the floor throwing a fit if you don't get one.

We joked around saying that our guys are just not willing to stay in a rural city like Ithaca, that's why we are all in an LD relationship. The waiter asked if he could dim the light; the bar was almost closing. There came a couple who just got married, just the two of them without their friends or family members. The girl looked like she was pregnant. She went to the restroom for quite some time. The guy sit down quietly waiting for the girl to come out. His expression was flat. Meanwhile, the bar singer sang his heart out to the small but appreciative crowd:

Well, if you knew how much this moment means to me

And how long I've waited for your touch

And if you knew how happy you are making me

I never thought that I'd love anyone so much

It feels like home to me, it feels like home to me

It feels like I'm all the way back where I come from

It feels like home to me, if feels like home to me

It feels like I'm all the way back where I belong

It feels like I'm all the way back where I belong

By Your Side

Never fails to give some perspective.

Romantisme di Bawah Pohon

Minggu pertama saya datang ke Ithaca, saya jalan-jalan di kampus. Lalu sampailah saya ke sebuah taman yang cukup luas, dihiasi dengan beberapa pohon rindang. Saya ambil fotonya, dan ketika diupload ke picasa, di bagian subtitle saya tulis: One day, I will sit under those trees and think. Tapi, tentu saja pada kenyataannya setelah itu, tidak sekali pun pernah saya lakukan. Males lah, panas lah, banyak kerjaan lah, dll. Sampai akhirnya kemaren, pagi-pagi saya dapat e-mail dari library, katanya buku yang saya pesan sudah dateng. Saya cukup kaget karena sebenarnya saya cuma iseng-iseng doang loh. Setahun yang lalu saya pernah pesen artikel yang sumbernya dari Australi dan terenteeeeng... datang lah artikel tersebut. Sehingga sekarang saya coba lagi mengerjai si perpustakaan dengan permintaan aneh. Ada dua buku sebenarnya yang saya minta, yang pertama "Madre" dari Dewi Lestari dan yang satu lagi "A9ama Saya Adalah Jurnalisme" dari Andreas Harsono. Yang berhasil didatangkan adalah yang kedua. Hore hore!!

Sorenya akhirnya saya bertandang ke perpustakaan untuk mengambil bukunya. Kebetulan tempat perpustakaannya dekat dengan taman yang dulu saya foto itu, sehingga akhirnya, secara merasa sebentar lagi akan pindah, saya memenuhi keinginan tersebut untuk duduk-duduk di bawah pohon. Mungkin tidak untuk benar-benar berpikir, tapi, ah, bukannya membaca adalah bentuk berpikir juga? Saya memilih pohon yang paling dekat. Ih, banyak semutnya ternyata, ga mau ah. Lalu, akhirnya memilih pohon terdekat kedua yang cukup rindang, kering, dan tidak terlihat disemuti. Saya duduk, kemudian sedikit bingung, tas saya cukup trendi nih, masa ditaro di tanah? Beruntung saya bawa laptop yang disarungi, dan saya lebih rela untuk mengotori tas laptop tersebut yang handlenya hampir robek. Laptop saya tarok mendatar, lalu si tas trendy nangkring di atasnya.

Saya bersandar ke pohon. Wah, ternyata angle akar dan batangnya pas banget menopang punggung, serasa recliner alami. Angin sepoi-sepoi, matahari masi cukup tinggi namun diredam awan, kampus sepi karena summer, saya pun mulai baca kata pengantar Andreas Harsono, si jurnalis/blogger yang mengaku bukunya ini buku-bukuan. Tepat ketika kata pengantar habis, tiba-tiba datang lah seekor tupai (serius, ini bukan lagi mimpi jadi Snow White). Saya berdecak-decak, coba panggil dia, berbisik lembut seakan dia bakal ngerti. Padahal kalau sampai si tupai datang beneran, saya juga kurang tau mau diapakan. Dielus kah? Dulu waktu sekitar umur 8, saya pernah persis melakukan hal ini terhadap seekor anak kucing jalanan. Saya lagi naik sepeda di jalanan depan rumah waktu saya lihat anak kucing warna kuning keemasan berputar-putar bingung. Saya turun dari sepeda, berdecak-decak dan menjentik-jentikkan jari berharap dia datang. Tidak disangka, dia langsung lari kencang ke arah saya, sehingga saya tiba-tiba jadi ketakutan, cepat-cepat menaiki sepeda lagi dan menggoyes panik ke arah pager rumah. Dan si anak kucing terus mengejar saya dari belakang sambil saya teriak-teriak. Waktu kecil saya cukup bodoh.

Kembali ke si tupai, dia berjarak cukup dekat dengan saya, tapi terlihat berhati-hati seakan siap untuk kabur kalau sesuatu sampai terjadi. Dia dan saya saling pandang-memandang, saling curiga tapi penasaran. Lalu dia loncat-loncat, ternyata mendekati sebuah benda putih di dekat saya, yang sepertinya adalah gabus, tapi mungkin juga sebenarnya roti, saya tidak yakin. Setelah menggigit si benda putih, dia memalingkan muka dan loncat-loncat pergi. Tidak terlalu jauh, dari suaranya dia hanya pergi ke balik batang pohon yang saya senderi. Terdengar suaranya menggigit-gigit dan memainkan hasil petualangannya. Saya pun lanjut ke Bab 1, mengenai 9 pilar utama etika jurnalistik. Andreas ini pernah berguru dengan Bill Kovach, yang katanya jurnalis terkenal Amerika, yang juga dipuji-puji oleh Goenawan Mohamad, editor Tempo yang katanya juga terkenal. Saya mengangguk-angguk dalam hati tanda sok percaya, padahal saya tidak kenal mereka. Katanya, pilar pertama adalah kebenaran, yang bisa jadi sangatlah subjektif. Namun kebenaran ini bukan sesuatu yang mutlak, ia dapat direvisi seiring fakta-fakta baru, dan dibangun lapis demi lapis. Lalu yang kedua adalah loyalitas, yang sesungguhnya harus diletakkan pada masyarakat, bukan pada yang membayar untuk sebuah berita, bukan pada bisnis-bisnis yang ingin marketing, bukan pada partai, dan lain sebagainya. Lalu... setelah itu, si tupai datang lagi.

Di kejauhan, saya lihat ada tupai lain yang juga bermain-main di bawah pohon. Sepertinya kali ini bakal ada adegan India, di mana mereka berlarian dari jauh dan bertemu dan berputar-putar mengelilingi pohon. Tapi saya salah, kayaknya mereka masih pdkt malu-malu saja. Ah, kenapa saya jadi seperti anjing yang di film "UP" yang selalu terdistract kalau lihat tupai?? Lanjut ke elemen ketiga jurnalistik yaitu verifikasi yang ada 4 metodanya: penyuntingan secara skeptis, memeriksa akurasi, jangan berasumsi, dan pengecekan fakta. Sampai sini saya bingung. Kok kayanya 4 metoda itu mirip-mirip doang, hanya memakai deskripsi yang berbeda? Lalu di belakang saya, terdengar orang lalu lalang. Sepintas saya dengar mereka berbicara tentang the motivational poster. Eh, apa saya lagi diomongin ya, duduk di bawah pohon kan cocok tuh jadi gambar motivational poster. Ini dia sindrom orang pemalu sekaligus peng-geer. Tapi, serius, orang pemalu yang ekstrim yah, biasanya sampe ga berani keluar-keluar rumah karena dia merasa diliatin orang dan diomongin. Namanya social anxiety, tapi versi gawatnya, yang menurut saya adalah sindrom ke geer an sebenernya. Terlalu fokus sama diri sendiri, berasa selalu ada yang salah, sangat-sangat self-concious. Dan tiba-tiba saya pun merasa risih.. Ih orang-orang lewat gini, aneh kali ya ngeliat gw duduk sendirian di bawah pohon. Aih, padahal kalo lagi bukan summer, hal-hal lebih aneh banyak terjadi di taman ini salah satunya pasangan yang bercumbu panas, dan mereka cuek-cuek aja tuh.

Saya coba pusatkan pikiran ke buku baru lagi, sambil menambahkan elemen sendiri ke 9 elemen jurnalitik itu: FOKUS. Tapi sebentar kemudian.. celekit celekit... pas di pantat. Sial, ternyata semut-semut sudah berhasil menemukan aset berharga saya. Saya coba tahan, mungkin perasaan aja kali yah, kan ini pake jeans, masa bisa tembus. Namun celekit-celekit itu tidak berhenti. Harga diri saya terinjak-injak dikalahkan oleh semut, sehingga saya menciptakan alasan lain untuk cabut pulang: laperrrr. Terbayang indomi plus plus: indomi kuah pake telor ditambahin bakso sapi. Nyam nyaaam...

Akhirnya tidak sampai 1 bab, saya jalan pulang, sambil berpikir bahwa ternyata kadang suatu hal yang sangat indah terbayangkan, pada kenyataannya tidak nyaman. Padahal cuaca sore itu sangat asik, dan buku ditangan juga sangat menarik. Apakah mimpi-mimpi saya sebenarnya juga mirip dengan romantisme di bawah pohon ini? Ah sudah lah saya laper.