on patriotism

i sit silently reading these lines of rupert brooke, leaving myself wondering with his ideas of patriotism and loyaly. rupert was a promising english poet who died young, in 28 years old, in world war one.

this is what he wrote.

the soldier.

if i should die, think only this of me:
that there's some corner of a foreign field
that is for ever england. there shall be
in that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
a dust whom england bore, shaped, made aware,
gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
a body of england's, breathing english air,
washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

and think, this heart, all evil shed away,
a pulse in the eternal mind, no less
gives somewhere back the thoughts by england given;
her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
and laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
in hearts at peace, under an english heaven.

--- r. b.

loyalty is golden, rupert.

singing with elvis

"to dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe, to bear with unbearable sorrow, to run where the brave dare not go...

to right the unrightable wrong, to be better far than you are, to try when your arms are too weary, to reach the unreachable staaaar...

this is my quest, to follow that star, no matter how hopeless, no matter how far, to be willing to give when there's no more to give, to be willing to die so that honor and justice may live...

and i know if i'll only be true to this glorious quest, that my heart will lie peaceful and calm when i'm laid to my rest... and the world will be better for this, that one man scorned and covered with scars, still strove with his last ounce of courage...

to reach the unreachable staaaaaaaar.....!!!"

a taurean

"i shot an arrow
into the air
it fell on earth
i knew not where

later, i found it on a heart
of a friend."

(i forgot who wrote it. but i remember these sentences for 11 years now... hmm... if there must be a reason for everything, i wonder what is the reason i keep on remembering it).

28 years later...

this boy, twenty eight years ago, was a one day old newborn fahd... now, of course he is a twenty eight years plus one day old vahd. the story of his life has been marked, among others, by the changing initial of his name. from f to v.

in his first day as a 28 years old vahd, he amused himself with the news about the tragic misfortune that happened in myanmar, caused by a cyclone natural disaster. the day was quite full although he was unaccompanied from morning to evening. the good intention of the republic for sending help for the victims, as well as letters of condolence and encouragement from officials to the leaders of the suffering country, have made it a day full of rock and roll.

the chilling part of the day is to know that this afternoon he had received a package delivery containing a fridge as birthday gift from vahd to himself... hahaa!

ruby tuesday

there are many kinds of imitators in this life. but only few who can imitate the life itself. such kind of imitators often make us confused whether they imitate life, or life imitates them, for they seem to be very lively.

this kind of imitators dont need the bright lights of the day to be cheerful. nor they require loud music with irresistible beat to make the room feels like dancing.

the colors and the dress, the dictions and the laughters, mixed with the smartness and the bigheartedness are enough to lit the cloudy day with a spark of cheerful liveliness.

a ruby tuesday would never say where she came from.
yesterday don't matter if it's gone.
while the sun is bright, or in the darkest night, no one knows.
ruby tuesday comes and ruby tuesday goes...

five to one

there are five principles that you have to know and respect when dealing with the people's republic...

1. mutual respect for each other's territorial integrity and national sovereignty.

2. mutual non-aggression.

3. mutual non-intereference in each other's internal affairs.

4. equality and mutual benefit.

5. peaceful co-existence.

interesting, isn't it?

hop hop hop...

it was when i took into the skies above jakarta, jogjakarta and surabaya cities, far above the clouds that shade java island, i observed with maximum curiosity the life of the millions souls dwelling down there. farmers come to take care of their crops; fishermen spreading their nets; and everybody else that seems to be so bussy.

i was bussy too. chewing kit kat. reading laskar pelangi. and piercing my eyes to express how sour the the apple juice was.

to revisit the eastern parts of java was a good moment of escape. in jogja i was tasked to be a master of ceremony, an mc, of a seminar. and in surabaya, it was rather plentier of time for reading.

o yes, i found this novel laskar pelangi very interesting. i cant help but keep reading it from page to page a hundred and forty in a row. wohow...