My name is Amer Abdal Habib and I am random. The coming together of billions of molecules at a specific time in the history of the universe has resulted in what I am today. My thoughts, emotions, trials and tribulations are but a mere blip in the grand scheme of things. To be remembered long after I am gone is something I yearn for. Why? I don’t know. Maybe it’s an ego thing. Regardless, here I am — chronicling, yet again. This time it will be different. This time I am determined to be a better me and I owe it all to my love, my muse, my baby.

As I write this entry, I am sitting on my bed in the ‘old office house’ of Studio Mumbai Architects in Alibaug, Maharashtra. I am here my first ever internship in what may become a great architectural career (or not). I came on the 16th of February, which makes today my 9th day here so far; two days in-between I went back to Mumbai for TechCamp which was a great experience in-itself . I’ll get to that later. My upcoming entries over the net 3 months will be about my experiences here at SMA for the most part, but I’m sure there’ll be some other randomness mixed in-between.

Until next time, adios!

SAY WUT?

        I’d been hanging around his town for a spell, taking in the local colour while I wondered when the next stage coach would be passing by. Folk thought I was being all stoic and reserved, sitting out by the streets with a dry throat while music floated out from the local saloon, backed up by cheerful hollering and revelry. In all truth I just didn’t have enough coin for anything past the ride home. I really needed to ask my boss for a horse.

         That wasn’t in the prospector’s song, though. When the old codger brought out his guitar and started howling like a parched coyote, I didn’t hear so much about my lack of funds or how long it’d been since my last bath as I did about my armament. I wasn’t surprised- a piece like this was the reason I couldn’t afford a drink. Or new clothes. Decent hat. My own way home. My piece tended to attract usually welcome attention. Now I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but the little iron got more lines in the song than me. I don’t remember it too clear, but I’m pretty sure the only line I got was where I shot the outlaw. It was a strange kind of flattering to have an admirer scribble out a little diddy for me and go off-key about my herioic doings. Even if none of that stuff ever happened and I never shot nobody, it’s the thought that counts.

        When I got into town the night before, I was the gossip on everyone’s lips. Must be a small town. Or maybe I wasn’t so good at hiding my piece. You’d have some trouble hiding it, too, if you had to sleep in stables to pay for the damn thing. Either way it wouldn’t be long before my story got around and into certain ears so I made it right clear who I was looking for. Counted on the wildfire of small town gossiping hens and found somewhere to sleep for the night. Sure enough, whether I knew it or not, word got around. By the time I woke up the next morning, folks were already whispering like a pack of starving hyenas.

         “Sunny Montana and the Stranger are doin’ pistols at noon!”

         It seemed that in my sleep I had somehow issued an ultimatum to the outlaw I was looking for. That’s what I got for leaving my messages all to town gossip. Along with that little gem, rumours and unsubstantiated guesswork floated around like a haze of gnats. “I hear he’s Sunny’s long lost brother, looking to come and take over his gang! “I heard tell that he’s the last of the Hansons, here to take revenge after Montana killed his folks!” “Naw, he’s an outlaw all his own from south of the border. Come to settle a gang score with Montana.”

        Townsfolk were so engaged in their dramatics that every so often someone would try and gossip with me about what the new stranger in town was all about. They’d speculate I was a criminal of some sort or another before they lay eyes on my piece and put two and two together. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise before they’d go scampering away. Yep, there were a lot of interesting theories about me just floating around, but they could all agree on one thing: Sunny Montana was gonna shoot me in the head at noon today.

        I sure hoped not. Hell of a way to end a day.

         I never even had to go searching for his hideaway. Wherever it was, it wasn’t safe from local gossip. Sunny Montana was looking as bad as his reputation. I could not imagine how he must have sweltered under that beating sun- his hat, jacket, trousers, everything was all black. The only exception was the red bandanna around his neck. I half expected him to collapse of heatstroke right there. Even his face was decked with a midnight moustache that seemed right eager to just eat up his whole face. He sauntered down the centre of town, wind whipping up his jacket along with whorls of dust that choked his entourage of three similarly unsubtle thugs. According to the prospector’s song there was supposed to be a tumbleweed here, but I didn’t see anything like that.

         Townsfolk rushed inside and slammed their shutters, but I could see them nudge open windows and doors just enough to get a good view. Some of them brought a few snacks for the show, too. The only one left out in the open was me, reclining on a bench outside the general goods store.

         “Stranger!” called Sunny Montana, “You called me out!”

         I looked up. Guess it was a little lofty to hope that he’d come unarmed. “Did I, now?” I said as I pushed up off the bench and wandered to the middle of the dirt road between the town’s buildings, right across from Sunny Montana. With or without the high noon theatrics, only one of us was gonna be walking away. If it wasn’t me, I’d rather my last few lines be a little memorable. “Well, I’d hate to disappoint anybody, then.”

         We held a steely gaze. I had counted six seconds before Sunny turned around and grunted to his boys, jerking his head. With a nod, all three of them gave me a dirty look and walked right off.

         “Just you and me now, stranger.”

         I nodded slowly. “Takes two to tango.” Montana didn’t respond, so I pressed on with a nagging question. “Don’t seem your style, though. Didn’t mind a helping hand when dealing with the Hanson women, did you?”

         Things could have gone real different. It could have been like the prospector’s song. Maybe that would have been simpler, maybe not. When he moved, I almost shot him. But he wasn’t drawing. He was leaving, dragging his feet over to the saloon. I was left standing there like a gol-darned idiot with a big iron in his hands, and I wasn’t the only one left gobsmacked. Confused onlookers dared to push their windows open just a little bit more and peer down the street where Montana had shambled. I gave them a look and their peepholes slammed right back closed.

         It was pretty stupid of me to just follow Montana into the watering hole. Had he half a mind to, he coulda blown out my brains as I walked through the door. But there was something changed about him when he turned around and left. Maybe it had to do with the Hansons, but for all I knew the man just had a sudden and powerful thirst. The music didn’t stop and no eyes turned to me when I swung the batwing doors open. Everyone was too in their own thing, from card games to music to prostitutes to drink. Montana was here for that last one. Found him stooped over a glass of amber, almost empty by the time I came round and pulled up a stool beside him at the bar.

         “Joey Hanson always was a troublemaker, you know,” he grumbled. I didn’t rightly know where this was going, so I clammed up as he took off his oversized hat and set it beside him on the bar. “Maybe coulda been where I am now if nobody’d shown him the door.”

         I fought the temptation to order a drink, thinking bitterly of the expensive stage coach I’d be catching later in the day. “That ain’t no excuse to take a man’s life.”

         “No.” Sunny Montana waved the bartender over and ordered another drink, straight whiskey. “It ain’t.”

         It was quiet for a while after that. He took sips of liquor while I waited beside him, one elbow on the bar. He shrugged off his jacket and set it over his hat. I noticed that the piece under his jacket was an expensive number, too. Montana let out a low sigh that turned into a quick coughing fit. Clearing his throat and loosening his red bandanna, he continued. “I didn’t get no choice with the womenfolk. What’s a man s’posed to do, widow roundin’ up a posse and sizing up a noose for your neck? She weren’t Joey, but she weren’t much for words, neither.”

         “Hm,” I grunted, “You’re right lucky none of your boys were talkers, either.”

         “Maybe lucky. Maybe. But you don’t shoot a scumbag like Joey without makin’ some friends. Wouldn’t see me hang, and I wasn’t partial to the idea, neither. Never one for heights, me.”

         Funny thing to say, seeing as he was knocking on the hangman’s door by not shooting me in the head. “Somethin’ change?”

         Sunny Montana looked hard at nothing, then swallowed his drink in one swig. He shuddered and gasped a little, taking a moment to breathe. “Now mister, I never wanted to involve the missus. I never did. If I’d a known what she was gonna do or the girls were gonna do or Jonah Hanson or any of them… I never woulda done it. I woulda let Joey shoot me square in the back. But there ain’t no goin’ back. She had her gang and whether or not I deserved it I had mine. Son of a bitch… when I saw them all lyin’ like that…”

         He called over the bartender and demanded another one, which the man delivered in record time. Montana sighed again and pulled his bandanna off, throwing it on the pile of discarded apparel. “I knew I hadn’t dodged no bullet. After a mess like that, I’d just pulled the noose a little tighter round my neck. Boys were hoopin’ and hollerin’ like something went right. I tried to believe them. Tried to take to the black hat, but I ain’t no desperado.” He looked sidelong at me. “One of the Hansons hire a boy like you to find me?”

         “I ain’t at liberty to discuss such matters.”

         “Well ain’t you a polite little boy scout. Tell whichever Hanson sicked you on me… tell him…” Sunny paused, creasing his brow. I tensed up as he reached for his gun… and into his pocket, from which he pulled a folded up scrap of paper. “Tell him that I ain’t never gonna be able to bring back his daddy… or uncle… or whatever Joey was to him. But nobody gonna be able to bring me back neither. And give him this.”

         He passed me the paper. I unfolded it. Looked to be a marked map.

         “Never was much of a bandit, but we still took more than our fair share. That there map is what’s left, assuming the boys didn’t pick it dry. But I don’t think any of them was smart enough to draw their own copy.”

         I didn’t have much to say, so I let the man finish his drink and then I cuffed him and then… here we are.

         The old prospector looks at me in irritated befuddlement. He peers around me and, true enough, Sunny Montana is yet alive and in shackles… least until I can bring him back home for trial. I get a look from the prospector, a funny one that is filled with an entitled kind of disappointment and resentment. The old man spits a little tobacco and walks away, grumbling about how he’s not gonna change the song.

         Stage coach gets there shortly before my whiskers start to grey. Sunny Montana gets in without a fuss and neither of us says a word through the whole trip. Year or two later I’m enjoying a little vacation in the city when I see one of those street singers strumming a familiar tune. Story ’bout a stranger who walks into town and clears out a dastardly outlaw. Details are still wrong and the damn thing still has more lines for the gun than either the outlaw or the stranger, but I throw a few coins towards the singer anyways.

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Some are born with an impressive power of observation.
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Today is by far, one of the days that i enjoyed the most. Why? Because for once, today wasn’t planned. Everything was impromptu and random. I was not constricted by my planner and i could do anything i want. 

So yesterday night on a social media that is well-known to many, Twitter, one of my friend KKT posted that he located a Thrift Shop in MacPherson. I read his tweet and instantly replied him when does he intend to go? He wasn’t sure so i asked him if he would like to go with me within this week. He said he was okay with anything so we went ahead with today. Another friend(Ian) popped into our conversation and asked if he could tag along. Of course we said, why not? So we met up today at Ian’s workplace. KKT and I ate there first as both of us are vegan and also had to wait for Ian work to end at 3pm. While KKT and I were eating, we were talking about Thrift Shops and i mentioned Salvation Army. Coincidentally, he knew a place near MacPherson that has Salvation Army. So after Ian’s work ended, we decided to head to Wood Leigh Salvation Army first. Salvation Army is like GoodWill. Things are sold at secondhand price. However, we were quite disappointed with our buys as their products were not as cheap or fashionable for us. I ended up getting only a ARMY tshirt and two CDs. Simple plan and Westlife. We then head to MacPherson. Unfortunately for us, our thrift shop didn’t exist at all. So our trip to MacPherson was completely wasted. KKT decides to head home while Ian and I head to Tampines. I went on with my Thrift Shopping at Daiso. A $2 shop. Got some organisation stuff and a photo frame. After that we decides to head for dinner. As we were going down on the escalator, we spotted our friend. Accalia. So i casually asked her if she want to join us for dinner. So she did. After we ate, my best friend, Mao, contacted me that she was nearby too. So after my dinner with Accalia and Ian, we three decided to look for Mao. After saying hi and taking pictures and all that, Ian and Accalia head home while Mao and I went to grab Coffee Bean to catch up. After talking for almost an hour, we decided to head home. On our way back i saw a renting machine to rent movies. So i waited for quite awhile to rent my shows as there was a queue. After that, I sent Mao off to her bus stop. While we were walking there, I saw my Childhood friend. Rui Shuen. So i asked him where he was heading and maybe we could walk home together. He said to contact him later. I was like…. cool. So after sending Mao to her bus stop, i met Rui Shuen and we talked and catch up about each other’s life. It was a fruitful walk. So what i am trying to say here is that maybe we can get even more in return when some unfortunate happen. What do i mean? 

If Ian didn’t joined us, KKT and I wouldn’t meet at Ian’s workplace and dawn upon the subject of “Salvation Army”. If MacPherson Thrift shop did exist, i wouldn’t get to shop at Daiso. If i didn’t shopped at Daiso, I wouldn’t meet Accalia.  And if we didn’t had dinner, I wouldn’t have meet Mao. And if the queue for the renting machine wasn’t long, i wouldn’t get to see my childhood friend. Unexpected. Random. Unplanned. Just go with the flow. You will never know what will come upon you.  

J is obviously no longer distressed by the pain he was feeling Friday morning, and this often serves the purpose of making people in general forget how miserable they were and why the emergency visit to the dentist was necessary.  ”But look!  It no longer hurts!!!,” we all reason as we go about our business in the usual carefree fashion.  Cruel though this may seem, I try to remind J that his tooth was causing him a considerable amount of grief not that long ago, and that the improvement in his circumstances is purely the result of a significant amount of antibiotics that are taking away the pressure of infected, swollen tissue.  He is emboldened into foolishness by this lack of pain, and wants to eat popcorn.  This particular treat was denied to him until he threw a royal hissy fit that threatened to require major structural repair to the kitchen floor.  Mother, in all her desperate wisdom, acquiesced and, within seconds, a bite into a kernel proved that the original NO was justified.

J wouldn’t admit he’d hurt himself biting into the popcorn and, quite stoically, arched a brow, sent me out of the room and then left the popcorn on the table, unattended and uncared for, until it was too stale to eat.  In a classic “well, it wasn’t worth it anymore” move, he waited a whole hour to bring it up to the trash can and unceremoniously dumped it out, looking at me as if to say “it was highly unsatisfactory and I won’t want any more until you read the microwave instruction manual and figure out how to make it right.  Don’t apologize!  It’s not worth it.  I am disgusted by this poor display of corn popping and…just leave me be!”  Since Saturday he hasn’t attempted to eat anything that might have small, hard, sharp pieces that would hurt him so there have been no more requests for popcorn, and he is steering clear of candy of the sorts that usually send shivers down my maternal spine: laffy taffy, sweet tarts, smarties…things that enmesh themselves into holes or crawl in and put pressure.

You might question the wisdom of “allowing” J to have this type of snack.  I’m right there with you.  I should say NO, and I very often do.  However, J has a way of absconding things that is uncanny.  The existence of the baby monitor allowed us to hear very delicate, obviously “quiet” munching in the middle of the night; reconnoissance missions led us to the discovery of J, sitting in the dark in his room, munching on the 2-ounce containers of cereal we pack for him.  How he brought it upstairs without being noticed (he who is over 200 pounds and now 5′ 10″ tall,) we might never know.  He has ways, you see, and it might very well be a Jedi Mind Trick for all we know.

There are times when his body language gives away the secretive purpose of his actions.  I’ve discovered ice cream sandwiches in pockets, but only because I detained him long enough for things to start melting or the cold dessert to press against his leg until it was uncomfortable.  There is only so much I can do to police J’s actions.  I can give advice (the Good Lord knows my kids roll their eyes enough,) but I also have to give him the opportunity (as was given to TGG) to fall on his ass and learn a lesson from time to time.

J’s ability to conduct himself in a super-secretive way can cause problems.  Eight years ago we had to put a call in to the National Poison Control Center 800 number because we discovered J had consumed a small quantity of Miracle Gro.  After soothing us and helping us figure out that he wouldn’t be harmed by it, we went to even greater lengths to guarantee his safety.  You now need a retina scan, a passkey and your fingerprints to fertilize plants around here.  The jury is still out on whether this particular incident was the gateway to J becoming the tallest, biggest kid in the household…TGG certainly thinks it was.  I’ve seen HIM eyeing the Miracle Gro greedily…

Our Man of Mystery struck again on Sunday, only this time it was a cyber-attack and I didn’t realize it until yesterday afternoon.  We were sitting in the living room when I decided to do a little research on an app someone had mentioned might be good for J’s Math skills; I sat at the computer and opened our shared iTunes account.  The balance was off.  There was money  missing.  I backtracked and remembered how, on Saturday, J had asked for Chopin’s Fantaisie-Impromptu, and I’d obliged, sitting next to him in front of his iPad and keying in the password to our account.  That, my friends, was a 99¢ purchase, and a considerable amount of money was left in his balance when I did that.  Yesterday, when I went “app hunting,” there was a minimal amount of money in his balance.  ”The iTunes account has been HACKED!,” I e-mailed Dada.  ”What???,” he replied.  ”There’s money missing!,” I typed frantically while thinking of poor J and his missing money, and all the music that could have gone with it…sigh…  ”Check his iPad.  Check your wireless.  Maybe someone is stealing everything else from our computer!!!”  We are panickers here, you know.

Click.  Click.  Click.  GASP!!!!

J, my dear boy, OBVIOUSLY memorized the password I typed into his iPad.  It HAD to be him.  Who else, for crying out loud, would complete the purchase of the other 110 Classical Masterpieces in the album that had the Fantaisie one day after the Fantaisie was purchased?  I looked at my son and said “did you…” and his eyes immediately shot up to inspect the texture of the basement-level family room ceiling through the slowly rotating blades of the fan.  ”You DID, didn’t you?”  He smiled.  Broadly.

Remind me never to check the online banking around him.  NEVER!

my girldfriends and i LOVE fashion. SO.

me and my sweet friend eri had an impromptu photo shoot yesterday for valentines. background: our awkward backyard bush. nails: chipping even though we painted them the night before. mug: holding detox tea. thats gotta be as grass roots as they come right?

hopefully, given you love a good outfit as much as we do, this can offer you some everyday inspiration! and while we’re at it, how was your valentines?!

oh! also… just for good measure, im including a snapshot of our photographer – the one and only kaley morrison. she left this on my phone as a token of remembrance of her participation. thanks kay!

Here’s what I mean. I’m a first generation college student right… and I have had a few issues within my department. Mainly in the areas of advising and financing and you know these people would tell me, “well you should know these things” or (and this one is my all time personal favorite) “you should ask”

WHAT?!?! If I didn’t believe in karma and that I’m being watched by a higher power I swear they would have gotten more than they bargained for when I heard those words. How is it that… as a student whose family knows virtually NOTHING about college… how is it that I’m supposed to magically know what I’m looking for and how this institution works? How am I supposed to know that there are things out there to help me and things that are out there to hurt me if no one tells me? As a teacher it’s not your job to ASSUME anything except that I DONT KNOW ANYTHING. If I did know it I’m more than sure I wouldn’t be borrowing money to learn. What is going on with these educational institutions now days? Where did the teaching go?

Another thing that’s been grinding my gears… why is it that the most important things that we need to know… aren’t taught to us… well what do you mean Niecey? Ooooohhh I don’t know… like MANAGING MONEY. Like I stated above I’m 23 years old and I’m just now learning what an IRA is, what a CD is, what a 529 plan is, what a ESA is… and don’t give me that “those things are too complicated for a child to understand” uh… NO it’s not. If you introduce it to them early and make them familiar with it you can teach them all the complicated stuff later. It’s as easy as sitting the little ones down or even inserting it in casual conversation (which I think is easier than giving them ‘a talk’ about it). Why don’t they tell us in school “when you get older these things will help you” or “when you get older these are the things you need to look for”. Why has everyone forgotten that children grow up to be adults…. and if you want them to be prepared for adulthood you need to expose them to the things they will be dealing with like handling their finances, dealing with people they don’t get along with, explaining to them that things go wrong sometimes, etc.

Maybe I’m just a weird child because I feel like those are things I would’ve actually liked to get introduced to at least as a preteen. Not just the regular old “stocks and bonds” business. And why don’t teachers devote time in actually SHOWING their students how to properly search and cite things. I know college students (myself included) who STILL can’t do APA and MLA formats correctly. There should be courses…. or at least days IN CLASS where you teach your students how to research, where to look, what key words to use… these things should not just be in one specific major or just at the library to go in your leisure (let’s be real no student really wants to spend their leisure in the library… not even to read… it’s too weird). And it shouldn’t just be a lecture period either where you talk AT the students hoping it sticks, it needs to be interactive as do most of the things we are taught in my opinion. There is too much writing and not enough implementing, there’s too many assignments that are just space and grade fillers. If you want to teach someone how to be successful you should TRAIN them to be. I can teach all day… but if none of my students remember what I said next year then I failed somewhere. Too many teachers and professors don’t have that frame of mind and it shows in the assignments and the amount of people who enter the workforce and can’t even make it in the career field they were “prepared for” and the amount of people who lack the ambition needed to be as successful as they want to be. The education of the youth has too many sheltered elements to it so when we enter the work force we are taken advantage of… some of us fall and don’t get back up… some of us fall and do get back up and a handful actually make it to where they wanted to be.

And I know a lot of people will say “it’s the parents job as well” and you know what you are absolutely right but guess what… if their teacher didnt teach them who is supposed to teach what they don’t know? And yes parents are supposed to be the first teachers but be real …we live in a society now that parents are just too busy trying to make sure they can pay all the bills and rely heavily on teachers to do what they are being paid to do which is mold their children when they are not around. If you take into account the fact that people go to bed at night… students spend more time with their teachers than their parents so why would you displace your responsibility in helping to develop a child… which is in fact your job anyway… it’s what you’re getting paid to do… it’s what you vowed to do. Theres a whole process to becoming a teacher so it’s not like you just fell into education… you WANTED that position for one reason or another (even though I know some do it just to pay off the student loans but you STILL have an obligation to fulfill).

I know that we have this habit of trying to pack in all the information and details that we can in one year/semester/quarter and I feel like that is where we mess up. The structure of the way we learn should be redone so we can have more students that understand better. This is just my dream and I already know there will be so many people AGAINST it but I think that if we stuck to the core and basics of things instead of trying to go into depth about every topic and then just reintroduced it every year adding more depth we would be way better off. Yes that sounds like what we already do but it’s not, not in the way I mean it to be. We learn math but you want to know what would make it much better and help children in the long run? Teaching them math with MONEY. You kill two birds with one stone because you’re going to teach them addition, subtraction, division, multiplication, percentages, etc. BUT you’re also helping them grasp the concept of currency… not that if billy has 3 apples and jill takes 2 business. We could teach children how to read the same way we always have I don’t see much of anything wrong with that… BUT when we are teaching them how to write papers in like middle school at least a month should be devoted to teaching the children how to do research and how to cite their work and then the paper should be the assignment to the lesson of research and citation. Grade them based on the content and the ability to cite their findings based on how you taught them. Sciences should be more thoroughly explained to the students so that when they get to college they wont be blind sided by the amount of content their college courses cover. It doesn’t mean you have to go any faster in teaching… but just being able to really get in-depth about ONE THING first make sure they understand and THEN move on into the more complex components of what you’re teaching and that’s what I mean by keeping things basic.

Like I said its a dream… everyone will not see this as a great way to go. Besides I’m just venting anyway…

An original impromptu, conjured up on a pensive afternoon, a few months ago.

Recently, I thought it would match the pictures from India, hence this creation.

Times passes, but does the movement of time always signify change?

In that way, sprained ankles are misfortunes: 
They come unexpectedly, without warning, 
Without waver, 
And only through crutches may we rise again. 
Sprained ankles… life. 

 Perhatian : Mungkin dari beberapa bagian di review ini mengandung spoiler

Tren Omnibus yang mampu membius penonton film Indonesia akhir-akhir ini bisa jadi adalah sebuah alternative bagi para sineas untuk membuat film yang sesuai dengan idealisme mereka sendiri. Tak melulu mementingkan cerita yang berdurasi panjang namun penyampaian pesannya sampai. Adalah William Chandra, Andri Chung dan Witra Asliga memulai debut penyutradaraan film omnibus secara bersama-sama dalam 3SUM. Tiga kisah dengan tiga genre yang berbeda. Thriller, Drama dan Action.

3SUM dibuka dengan Insomnights. Monty (Winky Wiryawan -Badai Pasti Berlalu, Sehidup (Tak) Semati) lelaki dewasa yang memiliki penyakit insomnia akut mencari apa yang sebenarnya terjadi pada dirinya, lingkungannya, kekasihnya bahkan ibunya. Genre thriller yang dipadukan dengan sedikit horror membuat pembuka film ini cukup menarik. Meski sebenarnya ada sisi editing di cerita ini yang terkesan kasar dan berakhir dengan biasa, Insomnights mempunyai warna film yang bagus dengan konsistensi yang tetap terjaga dari awal hingga akhir cerita.

Rawa Kucing adalah film kedua. Dari ketiga film di omnibus ini, Rawa Kucing memiliki tingkat yang lebih baik dari sisi penokohan. Ayin (Aline Adita) diperankan dengan baik oleh Aline Adita dengan keberaniannya. Meski entah mengapa ada beberapa bagian di film ini yang terkesan ‘sepi’ padahal karakternya bisa dikatagorikan ramai ketimbang dua cerita lain. Ceritanya sendiri tentang Ayin yang mendadak dicintai oleh Welly (Natalius Chendana), pemuda tuna rungu tepat di malam ulang tahunnya. Kisah cinta mereka tercipta dari detik mereka bertemu.

Yang terakhir, Impromptu. Di sini penonton tak diberikan banyak gambaran cerita. Intinya sebuah negara dengan tingkat korupsi luar biasa dan tingkat kriminalitas yang juga luar biasa. Tak ada yang sanggup membuat negara itu aman hingga kita tak pernah tahu siapa lawan dan kawan.

Secara keseluruhan 3SUM dibuat dengan idealisme yang baik, pencapaian cerita yang maksimal namun dieksekusi dengan sangat payah. Editing, scene, dialog yang terkesan ‘sepi’ membuat 3SUM hanya sebatas film omnibus dengan kekuatan dicerita saja. Sayang sekali, padahal jika dikerjakan dengan jauh lebih serius (mungkin?) maka bisa saja 3SUM menjadi film omnibus dengan genre yang berbeda dan makin menarik dari yang sudah ada.[014/2013]

So it came to be that I don’t worry so much of things that I cannot find. Then of course there are the moments that come along giving me only two days to procure an important document. With renewed passport still in the processing stages, a misplaced social security card and only my souvenir birth certificate, proof of citizenship necessary for a new job was the inspiration for an impromptu trip to my old hometown (luckily only 270 mi away).

Through the frustrations of the initial search, I was first annoyed. As I thought more on the prospects of my first road trip for the new year, my irritation melted away. And with that, I left late in the night driving through the thick fog of a confused January.

The details of the trip itself are trite and tedious, but the overall experience was memorable. I was able to reconnect with old friends, revisit old haunts, and the spontaneity of it has spurred future plans to return in a more planned atmosphere. I do wish I had more time to visit, but I suppose that is one of the characteristics of an impromptu trip.

So to my friends scattered about the country, if you see someone who looks like it could be me, don’t rule out the improbable.

Something to note: My passport came in the mail the very next day

“Behind the hill…”  is originally an impromptu series recorded by Christophe Meulien and André D. At their request, this improvised music session received the contribution of Hervé Perez. It’s this trio version we propose to you here, enjoy!

1. The lonely Mansion’s story
2. Behind the hill
3. The waiting room
4. Monday morning
5. Train for Newtown

Hervé Perez – soprano saxophone
Christophe Meulien – piano, samples
André D. – bass, objects

Recorded at Cuers (France) and Sheffield (U.K). December, 2012.

listen to & download this album from Nowaki netlabel.

As much as we all know we shouldn’t be held to anyone’s expectations in our pursuit of happiness, except perhaps those we impose on ourselves, the expectations exist nonetheless.  I had a wonderful, impromptu conversation with a coworker the other day who shared with me some of the pressure she regularly gets from friends and family about the progression of her relationship.  In anything new this usually happens: the people who care about us want to know every last detail and sometimes they do more harm than good in their relentless quest for details and updates.   And in relationships, there’s even an expected timeline for relationship progression.

Don’t believe me? You must be under 18.  Otherwise, you’ve lived long enough to notice that even if you don’t jump on this timeline personally, your friends will, and they’ll do it in waves.  Between 18 and 25 you will attend more weddings than you knew you had friends and relatives.  From 25-40 you’ll be invited to so many baby showers that you’ll take up knitting just to cut costs.  And after 40? The divorce wave cometh.

My aforementioned coworker is married, and she and her husband have been together for nearly 8 years.  However, they’ve only been formally married for a little over a year.  Despite never having been married, I know what this means, at least in terms of expectations.  The public likes hot romances and fast families.  That is, we consider it fairly normal to marry someone if you’ve been dating for anywhere from 3 months to 2 years.  Beyond that? “What are you waiting for?” “When are you getting married?” “When is he going to propose??”  Personally, I have a much more conservative timeline.  I wouldn’t marry anyone I hadn’t lived with, and I wouldn’t move in with someone who I haven’t been dating at least a year (I know, I’m shattering all your lesbian=Uhaul stereotypes!).  Then after you get married, you have exactly ONE year to get yourself knocked-up or family and friends give themselves the liberty to comment on your reproductive choices and lack of reproductive promptness.  Think of the children! Literally.

We laughed as she went through a sampling of the torrent of comments she receives: “When are you going to start your family?” “Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?” “Are you trying very hard? You know the longer you wait…” “Tick, tick, tick! That’s your biological clock!” “You should try [insert sexual position or type of medical intervention here, along with a personal anecdote]!”

Do you see it? How there’s also an assumption with the expectation?  Never has my coworker been asked if she even wants to have children, that is just assumed, but people have no problem asking if she’d prefer a boy or a girl before she’s even pregnant! Audacious doesn’t begin to cover it.  But the truth is, our friends and family absolutely think this is not just their business, but their sworn duty to ask.  Without pressure from our social circles, I’d wager some of us would never get married or have children.

The other thing that strikes me about this is how incredibly sexist it is.  My coworker noted that while she receives these kinds of burning inquiries on a weekly basis, her husband has received them… never.   Some questions are absurdly offensive, like “When are you going to start a family?” as though two people who love each other do not make a family already!  And some of the questions, like “When is he going to propose?” just make no sense.  Who says he’s going to be the one to propose?  If he is proposing, isn’t it likely a surprise?  What if they haven’t discussed marriage yet?  For some a lack of interest in getting married is viewed as an unwillingness to commit and a dealbreaker, but to others it’s just not that big of a deal.  I could go on.  Even still, these are the questions women receive and men do not.  In the case of lesbians, I’ve found that when one partner is more masculine (like me!), they’re often treated like the man in the relationship (which, ironically, is rarely the case in my experience; butches are like Cadbury Eggs, we’re tough and chocolately on the outside, and soft and gooey on the inside!).  Or, to quote a friend of mine, “There is no man in the relationship! That’s why we’re lesbians!” For gay men… I have no idea.  (Twinks, Bears, Gay men of all varieties– Enlighten me!)

All in all, these are intensely personal decisions that, for some reason, people feel entitled to inquire about.  Obviously, it depends on the relationship, but there are some friends with whom I truly have no desire to discuss my relationship plans.  But the sad truth is we do have an established structure in our society.  It approximately goes: Go to school, get a job, get married, have kids, buy a house, send your kids to school (cycle starts over with them), then work until your dead or can afford to retire.   Nowhere is it written that this is how you have to lead your life, but people will expect that this is what you want and eventually what you’ll settle on, if you haven’t already.

Gosh, it almost seems bleak.   But let me say what I said to my coworker:  ”You’re allowed to not want children.”  Likewise, you’re allowed to not want to get married, you’re allowed to not actually get married, you’re allowed to not have children, you’re allowed to forgo a “regular” job for one of your own creation, you’re allowed to buy a boat or a hot air balloon instead of a house, heck, you’re allowed to run away to the nearest island and eat papayas all day.  It’s all about what makes you happy.  You are not required to live up to ANYONE’s expectations, no matter whose they are or how great they may seem.

As for single people, we have expectations too.  But the question we get is the same every time… “So what’s new in your love life?!” 

Of course, I assume when I hit 40, it’ll change to, “When are you going to adopt another cat?” or “Have you purchased your grave-site yet?”

Interesting… very interesting indeed.

Chris Brown and Frank Ocean have been reported to have had an altercation in LA recently over a parking spot…. a parking spot?!? The altercation took place outside of Westlake recording studio at which time there was some confusion about a parking spot that Frank Ocean claimed to be his. It’s reported that Ocean told Brown, “This is my studio, this is my parking spot.” There has been no confirmation on Browns end as to whether this situation went down the way Ocean reported as he was not at the scene when police arrived and has not been spoken to yet.

Ocean and Brown have had tensions in the past… which was news to me since I don’t follow the celebs on twitter to have seen their public exchanges. What baffles me the most though… it why is it that Chris hasn’t learned yet to just sit down and do a 10 count or something. It would be in his best interest if he went to intensive anger therapy instead of just community service and probation… and he should do it WITHOUT a court order. If ocean decides to press charges Brown could be facing jail time since the altercation occurred while he is still on probation for that memorable current-day Ike & Tina Turner smack down on Rihanna after the Grammys. I’ve been reading quite a bit of reports and some of the fans of both the artists seem to have some very strong views as to who was in the right. Ocean Fans have been comparing him to Tupac (although I think it’s a bit of a reach) saying that LA guys don’t give a **** and will throw down for anything.

It’s also been said that brown has been spotted with a cast on his hand and Ocean reported having a cut on his finger. I can’t say much about the cut until I have an idea of just how deep the cut is but everyone that has an opinion is implying that Ocean is being a big baby about a little cut (keep in mind they have no idea how big or small it is… besides have you ever cut your finger? that crap hurts takes forever to heal and leaves you pretty tender in that spot for a long time… just saying).

It’s still unclear who really started the fight but I really believe the fight should have never occurred at all. They may not like each other but I don’t understand why it’s so hard to just walk away or ignore the person who could get under your skin so bad.

Brown is really making it hard for anyone to not judge him so harshly. Since his famous debut in spousal abuse land he’s had a string of altercations that really make people question his character. He has thrown fits in television studios because he could not withstand the line of questions he has received (even though in my mind I don’t know how he expected them not to touch on him beating the breaks off his then girlfriend and Americas sweetheart Rihanna). He has been at odds with other artists… he has even been at odds with his own twitter followers at some points. His temper needs a lid put on it and it appears nobody has the brass to sit this young man down and give him the reality check his money wont allow. You can’t just go off on everybody and then expect people to keep liking you just because you sing good and have lots of money.

Ocean does not have as much buzz in the media besides good music and his very unexpected public confession that he is in fact interested in men romantically. I would hope that Frank’s sexuality would play no parts in the reason for their tensions but at this point I’m not sure… it could be anything.
Chris doesn’t really have much of a leg to stand on in the media but we still need to hear his side but it may appear he has no desire to tell it. There have been reports that Brown has made his instagram private while others state its been completely deleted after posting a picture of his painting of Jesus being crucified with the caption, “painting how I feel today” and then having his last post speak on how social media takes away from people like himself to be iconic because of the invasion of their personal lives.

Could the Grammy’s just have a negative affect on Brown though? Seeing as the Grammys are just around the corner and both him an ocean are nominated for the same award…. could that have caused some tension as well? Afterall his first incident of assault was right after the Grammys. I don’t know… but it’s just a theory… What do you guys think of this situation and how do you think it will play out?

And PLEASE don’t make this a dark-skin/light-skin issue… I highly doubt it has anything to do with that.