Kata Yinyang, ada orang-orang berbeda sifat yang ditakdirkan untuk hidup bersama karena mereka saling melengkapi.
Kataku, kau yang pujangga tidak mungkin tahan bersebelahan lama-lama dengan seorang gila matematika. Kataku, kau harus mencari lawan main dari liga yang sama. Warna yang sejenis.
Tidak, Yinyang memaksa.
Hubungan itu seperti bahtera, tidak bisa berat ke salah satu sisi kalau tak mau tenggelam. Harus seimbang kiri-kanan.
Terserah.
Lalu hari itu aku berjalan menyusuri taman bintang untuk bertemu kekasih pujaan.
Kami sudah lama saling mengedipi satu sama lain. Jika tidak terpisah jutaan kilometer jauhnya, mungkin kami sudah menjadi sepasang kekasih yang dielu dan irikan temanku. Dia mengeluarkan sinar di galaksi lain, dan aku terperangkap di bumi. Namanya bintang.
Bukan, bukan kejora yang dinikmati banyak orang. Ini bintang pribadiku sendiri.
Teori Yinyang jelas salah.
Aku dan dia sama-sama cerah berpendar. Reaksi helium dan hidrogen di permukannya memancar, begitu pula aku dengan auraku yang menurut mereka membuat segan.
Aku dan dia sama-sama menjadi pusat gravitasi. Kami independen dan tidak bergantung pada sebuah inti, planet-planet justru berputar mengitari kami.
Lihat itu, Yinyang. Aku dan bintang adalah kembar, adalah sama. Kami tidak beda.
Kemudian kulihat mereka.
Sepasang kekasih, sang gadis dengan gitar terpasang di punggung dan kekasihnya yang berkacamata setebal botol susu.
Yang laki-laki berkemeja membosankan, memohon agar pujaannya menyanyi. Lagu favoritku, pintanya. Lalu permohonan dikabulkan. Si pria bersenandung mengiringi dengan nada lebih sumbang dari klakson metromini, namun wajah lebih bahagia dari supir yang mendapat pemasukan berlimpah. Dia tak perlu mengerti kunci G, Am, atau C, dia hanya tahu hatinya berlompatan melihat gadisnya bernyanyi dengan senyum termanis di dunia.
Selesai.
Ini tengah malam. Ayo pulang, katanya. Bergandengan tangan, dua dunia berbeda, bergerak ke arah selatan.
Sejenak hitam bertemu putih. Sepercik warna abu hadir mengganggu.
Aku berpikir lagi.
Mereka tak mungkin sama. Jengkal manapun dari isi otak mereka pasti beda bentuk dan dimensi. Kon, tras. Kontras.
Itu yang kubilang dari tadi, sambar Yinyang.
Yang berbeda memang harus bersatu. Agar harmonis, agar seimbang. Kalian yang sama harus berpisah, ibarat enzim kalian bukan jodoh dari yang lain. Berpisahlah.
Kuberitahu satu hal, Yinyang. Kecocokan itu manusia yang tentukan. Yang sama bisa klop, yang beda pun bisa pas.
Kau boleh pakai baju biru di atas celana biru, tapi baju biru di atas celana hitam pun tak kalah sedap dipandang.
Sama, beda, kalau cinta, maka apa daya.
Sabtu, 17 Mei 2014
Judul
Namanya Judul.
Tempatnya di atas, hanya terdiri dari dua sampai lima kata, tapi dibebani sebagai perwakilan utama dari paragraf-paragraf panjang. Dianggap dewa dan tertera di setiap sampul. Disalahkan jika gagal menarik hati pembaca.
Judul sering dimetaforakan sebagai pintu utama yang bisa mengundang atau mengusir tamu dari teras untuk masuk ruang tengah sebuah kisah.
“Karena dia aku bahkan tak dibaca!” ujar Paragraf Pertama.
“Dan jika kau saja dilewati, apalagi aku!” sahut Paragraf Di Bawahnya.
“Baiklah, teman-teman, kita harus buat sebuah kesepakatan. Ini bukan salah Judul. Terkadang aku yang seharusnya simpel dibuat terlalu menjelimet sehinggga orang muak.” bela Kesimpulan.
“Sudah! Diam kalian semua! Aku Judul. Aku yang sejak awal menyanggupi tugas ini. Kalau dianggap Dewa, aku harus siap dengan konsekuensinya. Kalian diam saja dan laksanakan tugas dengan baik!” akhirnya Judul angkat bicara.
Lalu semua terdiam.
“Bagaimana jika kau sendiri gagal menarik mata-mata pembeli?” tantang Tanda Baca memecah kesunyian.
“Aku… Akan mundur. Kalian boleh bunuh aku. Jadilah kisah indah tanpa Judul. Biarkan sampul itu kosong tak bertuan, kalau itu yang kalian mau. Semoga kalian sanggup.”
“Kau serius?”
“Terkadang aku pun lelah menjadi Judul. Aku ingin ber-reinkarnasi dan lahir kembali sebagai Isi. Atau Koma.”
Tanpa disangka, percakapan barusan didengar oleh Sang Penulis. Penghapus pun diambil, dan sesuai permintaan Judul, ia lenyap menjadi noda pada karet. Tidak diganti, pula tidak lahir kembali.
Semoga engkau bahagia di alam sana, doa Kata dan Kalimat.
Tempatnya di atas, hanya terdiri dari dua sampai lima kata, tapi dibebani sebagai perwakilan utama dari paragraf-paragraf panjang. Dianggap dewa dan tertera di setiap sampul. Disalahkan jika gagal menarik hati pembaca.
Judul sering dimetaforakan sebagai pintu utama yang bisa mengundang atau mengusir tamu dari teras untuk masuk ruang tengah sebuah kisah.
“Karena dia aku bahkan tak dibaca!” ujar Paragraf Pertama.
“Dan jika kau saja dilewati, apalagi aku!” sahut Paragraf Di Bawahnya.
“Baiklah, teman-teman, kita harus buat sebuah kesepakatan. Ini bukan salah Judul. Terkadang aku yang seharusnya simpel dibuat terlalu menjelimet sehinggga orang muak.” bela Kesimpulan.
“Sudah! Diam kalian semua! Aku Judul. Aku yang sejak awal menyanggupi tugas ini. Kalau dianggap Dewa, aku harus siap dengan konsekuensinya. Kalian diam saja dan laksanakan tugas dengan baik!” akhirnya Judul angkat bicara.
Lalu semua terdiam.
“Bagaimana jika kau sendiri gagal menarik mata-mata pembeli?” tantang Tanda Baca memecah kesunyian.
“Aku… Akan mundur. Kalian boleh bunuh aku. Jadilah kisah indah tanpa Judul. Biarkan sampul itu kosong tak bertuan, kalau itu yang kalian mau. Semoga kalian sanggup.”
“Kau serius?”
“Terkadang aku pun lelah menjadi Judul. Aku ingin ber-reinkarnasi dan lahir kembali sebagai Isi. Atau Koma.”
Tanpa disangka, percakapan barusan didengar oleh Sang Penulis. Penghapus pun diambil, dan sesuai permintaan Judul, ia lenyap menjadi noda pada karet. Tidak diganti, pula tidak lahir kembali.
Semoga engkau bahagia di alam sana, doa Kata dan Kalimat.
Date A Guy Who Sings
(This is another version of Rosemarie Urquico’s ‘Date A Girl Who Reads’.)
Date a guy who sings. Date a guy who spends his money on new guitar strings instead of cigarettes. He has problems with iPod space because he has too many good songs. Date a guy who has a list of CDs he wants to buy, who has sung for his mother since he was twelve.
Find a guy who sings. You’ll know that he does because he will always hum while waiting at the bus stop. He’s the one lovingly tapping his feet to the ground when he listens to the song he loves. You see the weird gentleman smiling on the CD cover in the second hand music store? That’s the singer. They can never resist playing the songs on their guitar, especially when they have great lyrics.
He’s the guy singing while walking to the hall before that general lecture. If you peek on his iPod screen, the battery is running low because he’s kind of engrossed in the rhythm already. Lost in a world of the musician’s making. Walk by. He might give you a glare, as most guys who sing do not like to be interrupted. Ask him if he likes the song.
Walk together to the main building.
Let him know what you really think of John Mayer. See if he got through the songs of Room for Squares. Understand that if he says he completely understood the meaning of his songs he’s saying that to sound intelligent. Ask him if he loves Jason Mraz or he would like to be Jason.
It’s easy to date a guy who sings. Give him a CD for his birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give him the gift of rythms, in songs or played tunes. Give him The Script, Maroon 5, or D’Sound. Let him know that you understand that tones are love. Understand that he knows the difference between songs and reality but by God, he’s going to try to make his life a little like his favorite song. It will never be your fault if he does.
He has to give it a shot somehow.
Sing wrong pitch to him. If he understands rhythm, he will understand you need to do it. Behind tones are other things: lyrics, meanings, soul. It will not be the end of the world.
Fail him. Because a guy who sings knows that failure always leads up to the chorus. Because guys who sing understand that all things will come to an end. That you can always create another verse. That you can begin again and again and still be the master of song. That life is meant to have a wrong pitch or two.
Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Guys who sing understand that people, like pre-chorus, develop. Except in jazz songs.
If you find a guy who sings, keep him close. When you find him up at 2 AM playing a guitar on his chest and weeping, make him a cup of tea and hold him. You may lose him for a couple of hours but he will always come back to you. He’ll talk as if the lyrics in the song are real, because for a while, they always are.
He will propose on one of his gigs. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time he’s sick. Over Skype.
You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst or flown out of your chest yet. You will write the songs of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. He will introduce your children to the classic kid songs, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and he will sing Ronan Keating under his breath while you shake the snow off your boots.
Date a guy who sings because you deserve it. You deserve a guy who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give him monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a guy who sings.
Or better yet, date a guy who creates songs.
Date a guy who sings. Date a guy who spends his money on new guitar strings instead of cigarettes. He has problems with iPod space because he has too many good songs. Date a guy who has a list of CDs he wants to buy, who has sung for his mother since he was twelve.
Find a guy who sings. You’ll know that he does because he will always hum while waiting at the bus stop. He’s the one lovingly tapping his feet to the ground when he listens to the song he loves. You see the weird gentleman smiling on the CD cover in the second hand music store? That’s the singer. They can never resist playing the songs on their guitar, especially when they have great lyrics.
He’s the guy singing while walking to the hall before that general lecture. If you peek on his iPod screen, the battery is running low because he’s kind of engrossed in the rhythm already. Lost in a world of the musician’s making. Walk by. He might give you a glare, as most guys who sing do not like to be interrupted. Ask him if he likes the song.
Walk together to the main building.
Let him know what you really think of John Mayer. See if he got through the songs of Room for Squares. Understand that if he says he completely understood the meaning of his songs he’s saying that to sound intelligent. Ask him if he loves Jason Mraz or he would like to be Jason.
It’s easy to date a guy who sings. Give him a CD for his birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give him the gift of rythms, in songs or played tunes. Give him The Script, Maroon 5, or D’Sound. Let him know that you understand that tones are love. Understand that he knows the difference between songs and reality but by God, he’s going to try to make his life a little like his favorite song. It will never be your fault if he does.
He has to give it a shot somehow.
Sing wrong pitch to him. If he understands rhythm, he will understand you need to do it. Behind tones are other things: lyrics, meanings, soul. It will not be the end of the world.
Fail him. Because a guy who sings knows that failure always leads up to the chorus. Because guys who sing understand that all things will come to an end. That you can always create another verse. That you can begin again and again and still be the master of song. That life is meant to have a wrong pitch or two.
Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Guys who sing understand that people, like pre-chorus, develop. Except in jazz songs.
If you find a guy who sings, keep him close. When you find him up at 2 AM playing a guitar on his chest and weeping, make him a cup of tea and hold him. You may lose him for a couple of hours but he will always come back to you. He’ll talk as if the lyrics in the song are real, because for a while, they always are.
He will propose on one of his gigs. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time he’s sick. Over Skype.
You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst or flown out of your chest yet. You will write the songs of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. He will introduce your children to the classic kid songs, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and he will sing Ronan Keating under his breath while you shake the snow off your boots.
Date a guy who sings because you deserve it. You deserve a guy who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give him monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a guy who sings.
Or better yet, date a guy who creates songs.
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