It’s a working name. Hopefully, soon Pandji and I will come up with a much better, commercial name for our band. If we don’t, we’ll just stick with this. It’s pretty self-explanatory.
Why this name, you ask? Because we are dirt poor, we don’t have real equipments to record our music properly. So we sing and play, then record everything with our phone, to be processed in Garage Band. Yes, it’s an emergency studio.
Anyway, I’ve always been a huge fan of The Paps. The first time I heard them was in Bandung. I just finished high school. A group of us went to Bandung for university entrance tests. I applied to Unpad and Unpar law schools–I got accepted in both by the way. In between studying for the tests, we explored Bandung. One day we came across an empty school festival. The Paps were playing. It was love at first note.
Pandji doesn’t really listen to them. But we both love The Paps’ ‘Sementara’, anthem for the brokenhearted. We love to sing it loud from time to time.
Pretty sure we were high when that video happened.
My budding entertainment law consulting group is looking for a junior associate and I will personally review all of the incoming applications. I thought I’d give you an advantage by sharing some tips. ;)
1. Good use of language
It’s not hard to determine what kind of person you are from your writing. It shows. Your mastery of your language gives one a good idea of your level of communication skill. Do not take grammar and punctuation lightly. I can see how much you pay attention to details by simply reading your email and CV.
2. Proper application
If I receive an application with no cover note/letter/greeting, I’ll delete your email immediately. I’m not going to even bother read your CV. Manners maketh men.
3. Do your research
Show me that you can read: our recruitment post; our website; our relevant fields of law, business, and industry; our interest; and our history. Show me how you’re interested in them and how you think you can work with us, factoring the things you find in your research.
I hope you’ve noticed by now that Klikonsul don’t require you to meet a certain minimum GPA or be excellent in academics. That’s because we believe that law is something you can always learn, and we can help you with your learning. But manners, interest, and determination are something that only you can generate. The least we can do is motivate and remind you.
Klikonsul consist of a bunch of nerds. All of us are professional writers and musicians. We have actual domain knowledge in addition to our legal experience. We have big dreams, big plans, and big goals. We’re in it for the long run. We’re not only looking for someone to work with. We’re growing a family member. If you want to be a part of our family, we encourage you to apply, regardless of your background, gender, sexual orientation, race, ethnicity, or religion.
I’m so excited to receive your application. Blow my mind away, my friends.
When I joined my current DnD group, I didn’t expect it to take a lot of planning. There are 6 of us, and that alone is already a scheduling nightmare. So far we’ve managed to play once a month, and that’s considered great. We spend one whole day to finish a campaign, then we’ll continue it next month, as the DM cooks up a new one. Last time, we’re in the third part of Ruli‘s series of campaign. I have no idea how huge his campaign is gonna be. We’re not even close to the big boss yet.
Building a tower of DnD dice is no easy feat!
I also didn’t expect that DnD would consist of a lot of waiting. Granted, there are 5 of us players and only 1 DM. Sometimes Theo helps co-DM-ing, while playing at the same time. It might take a while until it’s your turn. And that’s a lot of turns. So my grabby hands start to build stuff.
The Lone Roman Centurion guarding the Pandora box for 2,000 years.
Will has a nice collection of Legos. He has everything. Theo and Yogi have a bunch of colourful dice, most of them unused in the game. And my dice are beautiful, because they glow in the dark. My make shift dioramas make wonderful action stills.
I have finished washing the dishes, mopping the floor, and hanging the laundry to dry, but he’s still stuck in front of his laptop, watching Star Trek and whatnot. After the stroke, he’s forgot everything, lost the ability to talk–to do everything–really, but he still occasionally laughs at Two and A Half Man. Those shows are the only thing that makes him alive these days and I don’t have the heart to take it away from him, even though I need the laptop for school. I guess I can manage.
Once my morning chore is complete, I leave the house after I make sure the food is somewhere he can see and easily reach. I take my usual route to campus, where I meet this old woman who looks so helpless, I carry her groceries for her. She insists I stay for tea, but I’m almost late for class.
“Surely you can’t leave empty handed,” she says.
“I’m fine. Please don’t think about it.”
The senior lady smiles like she knows something I don’t.
“Who are you to tell me what I should or shouldn’t think about.”
“I’m sorry. But it’ll make life easier, won’t it? Knowing what others think?” I say, picturing him alone at home. I can’t remember the last time we had a meaningful conversation with each other.
Next thing I know, the woman takes my head between her hands and bestows me her gratitude. She says I can read minds now.
“I’m really late for class,” I say. I take off before she makes me stay with more nonsense.
I get to class in time. The room is louder than usual. Everyone fusses over the 10-page essay due today. I slide easily into an empty seat beside this boy I’ve been smiling at for the past semester. He’s cute, but not always the most diligent when it comes to assignments. He’s furiously typing down words on his MacBook Air. I give him some pointers so he’ll finish his essay before the class starts. His smile always brightens up my morning.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“For calling me smart.”
He stops typing and frowns at me. “I didn’t say anything.”
I roll my eyes and turn my attention the lecturer.
“He has a bad case of hangover,” I tell him, pointing at the lecturer.
“How do you know?”
That’s a good question. I thought I heard the lecturer screaming for Panadol and wanting to throw up. A new thought pops in my head.
“Are you hungry?” I ask him again. “You’re thinking about spaghetti.”
He stops typing entirely.
“How the hell did you know that?”
Amused, I concentrate on the lecturer again. He’s silently collecting our essays on his desk, thinking about getting home early. I can hear his thought loud and clear as if he’s talking in my ear.
“Pick a number. Any numbers. Don’t tell me,” I say, trying my newfound talent once again. He looks at me like I’ve grown a third eye. “One thousand three hundred fifty seven.”
“No way!” he shrieks, essay forgotten.
That grandma wasn’t kidding. I focus on my classmates and I realize that the noise I’ve been hearing is all in my head. I easily eavesdrop on their inner monologue and I’m not sure whether I should be excited or overwhelmed.
“That guy is thinking of skipping class. She wants a new lipstick. That couple are cheating on each other and don’t know exactly how to break up.”
“That’s too much information.”
I think so too.
“Can you hear my thought?” I ask, mentally yelling at him that I want to jump him right here, right now. He shakes his head. Looks like this only works one way.
I fidget through the whole class. I’ve decided to go home immediately after this. I don’t even know what topic we’re discussing right now, because I can’t help getting into my friends’ heads. The same thing happens on my way home. I find strangers silently complaining at life and planning affairs. Fascinated at the fact that my thoughts are safe in my head but theirs aren’t.
“Dad, I’m home!” I announce. He’s still in bed, watching an episode of Star Trek he’s watched many times before. His cracked lips are frozen in a smile. I hug him and ask him what he wants for lunch today. I can get him exactly what he wants.
“Do you want to go somewhere?” I try a new strategy. I hear nothing. “Dad?”
His attention is back to the laptop and I’m not sure he heard me. I focus harder on him but this time I hear nothing. Maybe I’m not doing this right.
“Can you hear me?”
Nothing. I turn him around and look straight into his eyes, desperately attempting to figure out what he’s thinking about. I can’t even be certain he’s looking back at me.
“Do you know who I am?”
He leaves my gaze and returns to the Voyager. A sudden wave of hopelessness hits over me. I have expected so much out of this. Why should his mind be any different to the others? Is he even aware of my presence?
I call him again but his eyes are glued to the screen. It takes all the patience in me not to hurl the fucking laptop out of the window. He looks so peaceful and I’d give anything just to hear him say my name, even if it’s only in his head.
Feeling defeated, I feed him lunch. Not once he glances at me. And there’s so many things I want to ask him. Does he remember mom? Does he remember our late night X-Files marathon? Does he miss me like I miss him?
I collect his utensils and start my way to the sink when he makes that grunt he usually does to catch my attention. The laptop is closed and he weakly pushes the gadget towards me.
For you, he thinks.
I wrote this on 26 November 2015. It was a prompt an anonymous on AskFM gave me. The story was inspired by a personal experience. It’s been two years since I wrote it, and I still find it personally relevant. I don’t know how to feel about it.
It has been a busy weekend, my friends. I had a drink and caught up with a loved one. He made a quick illustration of me holding a glass of beer. I love it and am thinking of framing it 💚 I also spent my Saturday shooting an upcoming video, which I can’t talk about right now, but hopefully next month. :D
On Saturday night, Pandji and I jammed on Kemaro. We only had two scenes left, but we overestimated ourselves. We spent almost four hours and only finished one scene. By the end of those four hours, my brain was fried. We’re jamming again next week, and I can’t wait to finish that one last scene. I’m looking forward to release and share the highlights with you!
Today I had an editorial meeting with Bonni for the comic. We spent three hours to outline two chapters. You guess right, my brain was fried. Then I went home and worked on a couple of contracts, determined to submit them before tomorrow’s deadline. By now my brain is overcooked.
I’m going to relax now, finishing Amanda Palmer’s The Art of Asking. I’ve been listening to The Dresden Dolls since Friday and here’s one of my favourites. Enjoy Girl Anachronism.