Why I Deactivate My Facebook Account

Yes, I deactivate it. It’s hard to delete it, that’s why I deactivate it. Just so because I’m fed up of its disadvantages. My lovely country, Indonesia, isn’t ready for Facebook. Let’s just say I need to take a break from it to keep my sanity because I terribly need it now that I’m doing my graduation project.

First, it distracts you. Oh yes, all the games, the quizzes, applications, photos, etc are resistance-proof  temptations. And even if you’re not tempted by it (I kept a healthy amount of playing there), you just can’t  get away because…

Second, ‘your friends’ make you distracted. I’m not an antisocial person. It’s just people seemed love to talk  and more importantly, being talked about almost anything. Those trivial matters like  ’My heart hurts me’ is  boring and useless. And it’s crazy seeing that those ‘controversial’ sayings can be baits to hundreds of even  more useless comments. It makes you feel you should comment too. If you don’t talk much in Facebook,  you’ll be deemed ‘antisocial.’ My not-so-close friend thought I didn’t like her just because I seldom  commented at her status. I didn’t hate her, I just didn’t feel a need to comment. Why can’t Indonesian people  be objective?

Third, and when you want to talk about scizophrenic people or waste problem, nobody wants to talk about  it. They often say, ‘Let things go,’ or, ‘What use talking about it anyway?’ I sometimes think Indonesian  people are only wastes to a supposedly blessed country.

Four, believe you me, but I have many poetic ‘friends’. So poetic that my timeline warrants instant suicide. They filled my timeline with melancholic or pessimistic thoughts (often about love). I started a day cheerfully & full of spirits, until checking my Facebook ruined my mood all day. I tried not to glance at the timeline, but a friend talked to me about another depressed friend and said I should check him/her. They were like ghosts, always finding a way to reach you!

Makes me think that Indonesian people can’t separate things that should be said in direct, daily conversations and things that should be typed in a public, indirect conversations. They seemed to have no shame, telling the world all things about them & it irks me.

But Facebook has given me its biggest advantage, connecting me with distant friends. I have friends in Central and East Java, Lombok, US, Pakistan, etc and it’s great to keep our bond close. I don’t mind talking about trivial matters here and there to them, because I can’t do daily, direct conversations with them while I want to feel as if they’re still close with me. So, yeah, I’ll be back once I graduate, for my friends.

Egypt is In

‘Goodbye the peaceful and romantic travel destination image!’

Egypt is in.

Not because of archaelogical discovery (as I had expected), but because of a revolution! I was surprised when I found out about it last week. For me, Egypt seemed like, what, the only country in Middle-east that was not identified with war and chaos? Except at the borders, yes.

From what I’ve seen in Egypt’s popular culture, they’re not like most of Middle-east countries. Their soap operas have women dressed in lace tops with bare shoulders and shorts, which are very short. That’s for example. I think Mubarak has tried to Americanized Egypt and it’s what makes the people angry.

Okay, I disagree with the people killing Christian Coptics in Nag Hammadi, Egypt. And don’t label those people ‘moslems.’ They are NOT moslems. Moslems are not the kind of people killing anybody around! They’re just murderers!

But I agree with whoever wants to topple Mubarak. It kills me to see any country being like a dog licking United States’ shoes, begging for bones. And to think that my country is being like that too! United States is not the governess of the world and should stop nursering other countries! It makes me sick to see US feeling like I-know-all-better while it actually only knows what’s better for itself!

And what have we here? McCain just agreed that Mubarak needed to go off the show. Ha! Makes me suspicious if they already have a plan to put yet another puppet on Mubarak’s chair? Time will tell.

Not that I hate the US. I’m sure there are many good people there. It’s just the government, I think. See, I like Broadway. I like their national parks, the way the preserve nature is a thing I always admire, I admire their health system (not completely, though). I’m not anti-American. I’m anti-current-American-government. Ha ha.

What Have been Proved Facts in POTO

Truly, this matter is debatable. This has been a nice hobby, but as this matter is too complex for me to solve, I won’t research about it for the time being. I have other pressing matters (including my graduation project).
So now my conclusion on what are facts in Phantom of the Opera:

1. Palais Garnier (and its infamous underground, though I’m not sure about how it looks)
2. The chandelier incident (even though it was only one of the counterweights)
3. The Punjab society & their use of ‘lasso’
4. The curious structure of Yildiz Kiosk in Turkey & its torture chamber (said to be built by an unknown German carpenter, who received much of Sultan’s favor. I’ll let one’s imagination suggest the rest)
5. The phonographic records & a sealed room under the Palais Garnier
6. That the Palais Garnier management had sort of trouble with money at the time POTO supposedly took place
7. That Leroux must be blind to use Christine Nilsson’s as his inspiration for Christine Daae. No offense, but Mme. Nilsson was a diva in her time and she obviously knew it, she was stubborn, rather haughty, and more of a Carlotta type of woman. The New York Times Archives paid attention to her in her active days, even to smallest details of her relationships with friends, etc. This may be subjective, I know.

What I Learn from Working In a Hospital in Indonesia

This summer I did internship at a government hospital in my town. It was tiring, but has its benefits.

Bad things:

1. It was honestly boring. As administrative staff, I don’t like doing routine job. Like everyday checking supplies in the pantry, checking computer data, blah blah whatnot.

2. Administrative staffs. Boring job for equally boring people. Both women and MEN gossip a lot. What’s worse, they were always gossiping about celebrities’ scandals and any form of housewives talk. Like there’s nothing in the world can interest them as much as gossip does. But they don’t seem to get bored by themselves, though.

3. Because of reason 2, I couldn’t talk to anyone. I talked sometimes out of boredom, but in merely 15 minutes they made me even more bored.

4. Flirty 30-40s men with gossip traits and banal language. God, this is simply untolerable.

5. I didn’t see high-tech medical equipments. Or they didn’t allow me to see. I wish they put me in hospital laboratory instead of the warehouse.

Good things:

1. I know that working in a hospital is a bad thing for me. Or at least working at THAT hospital.

2. Prevent me from applying for a boring job in the future.

3. Despite all its flaws, that hospital is still prestigious! It’ll do good for my resume.

4. Some of people there (usually those in higher positions, not merely staff or newly hired) were more respectable and nice to talk with. Unfortunately, they were often busy.

5. I learned about drug price policy and regulations. It really helps to make me looks as if I understand economic while I barely understand NASDAQ table.

My conclusion is: work at a hospital but just for a while, don’t make it my forever after dream job. I’ll end up being such a characterless individual.

Note: this only applies for administrative works and possibly what pharmacists do in a hospital, in Indonesia. Doctors do better I think. Considering I worked at a hospital in the CAPITAL of Indonesia, it may represents the condition of all Indonesian hospital in general. I’m not talking about international hospitals here, like Pondok Indah. They may not be different, though.

But I hope they may be.

Internship in a Hospital

I’m having internship in June – July, so I may not be able to post frequently.  This internship in a local hospital has been taking most of my HOLIDAY time and it’s insanely boring! But at least it gives me some valuable information: working as a Pharmacist in an Indonesian hospital is extremely boring, more of a clerk job, and I advise myself-of-the-future NOT to apply for job in a hospital. I’d rather be in some food industry, thank you. Maybe thinking ways of advertising, marketing, or better in quality control! More details come later.

Until then, I bid you adieu.

Your most humble & obedient servant,

F.F

For Background

Gangguan Jiwa ada Dimana-mana

Kali ini menulis dalam Bahasa Indonesia. Kenapa? Sejujurnya, semua orang paling suka dengan bahasa negeri sendiri. Begitu pula saya. Sederhana saja. Kembali ke topik yang jadi judul…

Kemarin waktu pulang dari Gramedia, suasananya gelap dan suram dan mendung. Pokoknya misterius dan menyenangkan. Aku naik angkot. Selain aku, yang naik ada 8 orang. Jadilah kami Fellowship of the Angkot, yang terdiri dari 3 orang anak SMP yang ribut, 1 orang bapak berjas, agak tua, sepasang suami-istri yang terlihat biasa-biasa saja, mbak berambut panjang, dan si supirnya tentu.

G berapa lama, bapak berjas mengajak bicara si suami. Dia bertanya, “Bapak asli mana?”
“Oh kami dari Indramayu”
“Disini lagi kerja?”
“Bukan, lagi berobat”
“Siapa yang sakit?”
“Istri saya”
“Penyakit apa?”
Sampai detik ini aku g terlalu perhatian sama mereka.
“GANGGUAN JIWA”

Kuharap mereka tidak melihat dilatasi pupil saya yang tampak kentara, atau otot muka yang tertarik ke atas membentuk senyuman samar. Jeritan sih bisa kutahan. Di kepalaku langsung muncul serentetan kata-kata…
“Kepribadian ganda? Depresi? Mania? Bipolar? Skizofrenia?” dan sebagainya.

Sayangnya percakapan tidak berlanjut dengan deskripsi penyakit. Bapak berjas itu malah menganjurkan berbagai resep nenek moyangnya. Tapi melihat ibu-ibu yang (katanya) sakit itu tampak normal dan tenang, kuduga penyakitnya pasti dari jenis yang keren.

Dulu menurutku penyakit jiwa ada 2 kategori, yang keren dan g keren. Yang g keren itu misalnya yang suka teriak-teriak, rambut gondrong, nari, g pakai baju. Lalu yang keren itu yang kelihatan normal, malah bisa aja jenius, tapi pikiran dia terganggu (misal mendengar atau melihat sesuatu). Contohnya John Nash dalam A Beautiful Mind.

Itu pikiranku dulu.

Sekarang aku tau, bahwa pembagiannya g sesederhana itu. Yang g keren itu adalah fase akut dari suatu penyakit yang keren sebagai fase kronisnya. Jadi yang keren-keren kayak skizo bisa aja tiba-tiba teriak-teriak. Tapi memang ada yang murni g keren, yaitu depresi. Bahkan untuk aku yang penggemar gangguan jiwa (gemar topiknya, tidak gemar mengalami) depresi itu sangat menyebalkan. Aku g suka orang depresi, kecuali kalau depresi karena cobaan yang memang berat banget aku maklum lah. Tapi sekarang banyak orang yang depresi gara-gara hal sepele, menurutku mereka itu g tahu bersyukur jadi menyebalkan.

Maaf OOT, jadi kesimpulannya berita di Pikiran Rakyat di suatu hari di bulan November 2009 tentang meningkatnya jumlah penderita gangguan jiwa di Jawa Barat benar adanya. Soalnya selain kejadian di angkot itu, aku lihat di bulan-bulan terakhir 2009, Rumah Sakit Jiwa di Jalan Riau juga penuh dan ramai. Sekian

My Personality Type

My friend took this test & suggested I take it too…so here it is, Lichen!

Your personality type: “Analytical Thinker”
Logical, original, creative thinkers. Can become very excited about theories and ideas. Exceptionally capable  and    driven to turn theories into clear understandings. Highly value knowledge, competence and logic. Quiet and   reserved, hard to get to know well. Individualistic, having no interest in leading or following others. Highly analytical, they can discover connections between two seemingly unrelated things and work best when allowed to use their imagination and critical thinking.

Careers that could fit you include:

Physicists, chemists, biologists, photographers, strategic planners, mathematicians, university professors, computer programmers, computer animators, technical writers, engineers, lawyers, forensic researchers, writers, artists, psychologists, social scientists, systems analysts, researchers, surveyors.

This quiz can be found here

The logical part is largerly due to all-engineering & science majors at my college -.- there are many mad scientists there, but not me (I think)

The Revised Chandelier Article, Thanks to Jennie!

This is the revised version of the chandelier article previously posted in ‘The Chandelier Accident in Palais Garnier’. A moderator in http://www.phantomoftheopera.com helped me edited it (I should consider learning French from now on ). Thanks to Jennie for her French skill! You’re awesome!

A terrible accident occurred yesterday evening, at the Opera, during the performance of Helle. It was exactly three minutes to nine in the evening. The first act was ending. Mme Caron had just sung an encore, when a tremendous noise was heard. At the same time, a bright light appeared, like a flash of lightning and a cloud of dust rose spread from the top of the room to the flies.

First, the explosion was believed to be some anarchist attack. Spectators rushed to the exit doors. But with admirable coolness, Delmas, Mme. Caron and chorus members who were on the stage remained in place, hoping by their calm to reassure the public. They succeeded to calm the spectators in the pit (orchestra) and on the first two tiers. But, above, at the fourth level amphitheatere which was nearest to the supposed explosion, the panic was considerable. The spectators were jostling each other even trying to climb over the balustrade to jump into the pit. Police officer Guida, no 158 of the ninth arrondissement, Brigadier Grimaldi of the municipal guards, the two guards Levesque and Durand, and the caretaker of the auditorium, M. Vallerand, prevented them and guided them to the exit door. Thanks to them no new accident occurred.

Meanwhile, M. Lapissida, stage manager of the Opera had very calmly withdrawn the personnel from the stage. After that he said to the public that they had nothing to fear, and then brought down the curtain.

The evacuation of the amphitheatre (Jennie’s comment: the fourth level of balconies facing the stage) took no more than two or three minutes, and once this was completed, the wounded were taken care of, for there people who had been injured. First it was found that five or six people complained only of bruises and severe concussion. They could leave the room to receive medical treatment. Hopes were rising that the consequences of the accident had not been too severe, when cries attracted the attention of one of municipal guards. He retraced his steps and found a woman under a beam/girder. It was Mme. Senot, grocer, who lived at Rue de l’Arcade no 12. She had been injured in the leg and the right eye from the breaking of the beam/girder, under which she was trapped.

At the same time, a young girl, her face all covered with blood, began crying for her mother, who she said was under the rubble. The search revealed the horribly mutilated corpse of an elderly woman lying in a hole in the floor of the gallery, covered by blocks of cast iron.
It was the woman that the young girl was crying out for, Mme. Chomette, aged fifty-six, a concierge at 12 Impasse Briare, 7 Rue Rochechouart.

While officers were searching to see if there were any other bodies, a fire was seen to have started in the roof. The firemen on duty, promptly assisted by the firemen from Rue Blanche soon overcome the fire.

Until now, no one knew what had happened and the cause of the accident. By removing the body of Mme Chomette *TEXT MISSING* (probably “on s’en”) this was discovered. It had been caused *TEXT MISSING* (prob: “par la chute”) by the fall of one of the counterweights of *TEXT MISSING* (probably ‘chandelier’).

*TEXT MISSING* in the central hall is supported by eight iron wires, each one the thickness of a wrist, and each attached to a counterweight weighing about 700 kilos. Each counterweight weighs this much so that if one or several of the wires break, the chandelier will stay suspended.

Now apparently, along one of these wires, running in a flue or shaft, was a cable for the electric light. Probably through wear and tear, a contact between the wire and the electric cable started a fire, and this fierce spark melted the wire holding the counterweight.

The huge mass, tumbled through the shaft, first smashing through the ceiling, then the floor of the fifth gallery, fortunately in a place where no one was sitting, and finally crushed seats 11 and 13 of fourth gallery occupied by Mme. Chomette and her daughter. It even demolished the parquet floor underneath them before it stopped.

It was also the fall of the counterweight that pulled the circuit breaker, and caused the outbreak of fire.

Mme. Chomette’s skull was completely crushed, her right hand and leg torn apart. Her body was carried on a stretcher by municipal guards preceded by the doorkeeper with his lantern to the Opera stop/station (for carriages), where a town ambulance waited, to drive her home.

He daughter, who works in a restaurant (“bouillon” in the article also means broth, but in this context it’s a simple restaurant catering for the masses) was injured in the face, but her condition is not serious.

Sitting beside these two ladies, in seats number 7 and 9, were M. Guillaume Murvoy and one of his friends. M. Murvoy received a severe electric shock and fainted. He complained of severe pain in his right leg. When he regained consciousness, his friend had disappeared.

The other injured people, as we have said, had only contusions.

The news of this accident and the arrival of the undertakers (“pompes”) , called upon from all sides, had caused great emotion. The public were exaggerating the seriousness of what was already being called a catastrophe. A large crowd besieged the outskirts of the Opera and M. Nadeaud, peace officer of the district, had to organize a special group to deal with it. The crowd did not disperse until an hour later, when was learned that the accident was less severe and certainly less comprehensive/general than previously thought.

M. Lepine, Head of the Police, accompanied by M. Gaillot, director of the municipal police, arrived at half past nine. M. Lepine learned the facts from Mr. Martin, Commissioner of the “police de service” (Jennie’s comment: am not perfectly sure about the meaning of this term, it may mean “police on duty” or possibly “police particularly attached to the Opera”. All input welcome). He himself examined the place where the accident occurred to verify the causes.

By order, M. Martin went at eleven o’clock in the evening to M. Atthalin, the public prosecutor, to inform him of the event that had occurred.

While awaiting the legal orders that must come, M. Girard, the head of the municipal Laboratories carried out a technical examination. The investigation was not yet finished at midnight, when we left the Opera.

New details tomorrow, if there are any.

Georges Grison

Alias Matter in Journalism

In journalism, a writer usually comes with alias(es). No exception for me. We don’t use real life because the work of journalism can be read by the whole world. Whether you write an article, poetry, story, book, etc there’ll be reactions from public over things we’ve written. These reactions can range from motivating to threatening.  If we’re not the risk-taking type, we won’t want our identity to be known by the entire universe.  That’s why we use aliases. But an alias can be the one which sparks the controversy. I found a mini-article on Le Figaro again (this newspaper is getting me obsessed lately). The author of this article used a very interesting alias:
Le Figaro, 22nd May 1896

French language can become cruel sometimes. Some articles concern the terrible accident on Wednesday, were printed without flinching: the person killed in the accident was Mme. Chaumet who came to see the Opera with a free ticket!

The Iron Mask
Was it normal at that time for journalist to write under alias like this? I see another articles in Le Figaro, and none comes with such a strange alias…or do I make mistake in translation? The Iron Mask, people, oh God, who was this writer?