"Bag It" Review

        I have to admit, as much as I like documentaries, I can only watch one every couple months because I don’t have TV to watch Nat-Geo Channel. I just don’t think I can handle the shock to my system more often than that. I recently watched this documentary  in my class last week and it was another shocker, though I would recommend it especially for those of us who have to worry about the state of the ocean in the near future.

        Bag It! is a story that follows Jeb Berrier, an average American guy who is admittedly not a “tree lover,” who makes a pledge to stop using plastic bags. This simple action gets Jeb thinking about all kinds of plastic as he embarks on a global tour to unravel the complexities of our plastic world. When Jeb’s journey takes a personal twist, we see how our craziness for plastic world has finally caught up to us and what we can do about it.

       The movie  with the basic premise that disposable plastic items (such as the typical grocery bag) are wasteful and harmful to the environment. Why spend so much energy to produce something that is going to be instantly thrown away? The movie goes on to address the impact of plastic garbage in the oceans and the toxicity of plastic in our bodies. It is amazing how many chemicals are getting into our systems from the plastic products that we use everyday.

        Watching this movie definitely gave me some additional confidence about our choice to move onto a sailboat in the near future. I’ve known for a while that our physical environment is toxic to us and I hope that removing ourselves from the “plastic” lifestyle will help to decrease the impact on our health and. I understand that there will always be risks to our health anywhere we go, but why impose them on ourselves?

        This documentary which is directed by Suzan Beraza also drove home the responsibility that we have as consumers, and especially as future cruisers, to protect our oceans. If we intend to enjoy beautiful beaches and bountiful reefs, we should take care to preserve them. I don’t know what kind of life my son will choose to pursue, but if someday he has a boat of his own, I sure hope there is a beautiful anchorage for him to watch a sunset from. It’s our job to make sure that’s possible.

       
 

      

Happiness Within Disaster

Sadness covered the atmosphere of an refugee camp located in Bumi Perkemahan Babarsari, Sleman (5/11). While most of the refugee were sad after losing their houses, Cahyo (23) seemed happy while having conversation with his friends. “It’s nice to stay here, I don’t have to do anything and the army fed us all occasionally”, he said.

Cahya is a refugee whose village has been devastated by Wedhus Gembhel (a local name for Pyroclastic Ash). He lived in Cangkringan village which endured most damage and casualities.

When he’s asked why did he enjoy to live in the camp, he said it because everything he needed was fulfilled in an instant. “Back to my life in the village, I didn’t have any job”, he said while having a smoke. “I’m un umployeed, so it’s hard to make a living”.

Cahya is not the only one with such thought. Oyop, a 45 years old with a wife and four children explained no worriness while laughing. “I lost my home but don’t worry, the government will pay for the reconstruction”, he said. It may sounded easy for him, but he talked based on an experience. The government reconstructed his village after the last eruption on 2006. He also has been guaranteed for having his destroyed house reconstructed by the government. In other words, these became a fact for him that he will regain his life if he get back to his village.

But of course, this happiness don’t come from nothing. Most of the refugee believed that this disaster is just another form of “gift”. A gift presented by the spirit that guards the volcano itself. “even our village is destroyed, the ash will vertalizing the soil”. Oyop said. “Our plants will grow well and the volcanic sand will make us money”. He also added that the euption is just a test from then. So, if they can endure and being thankfull for it, they may live for the other day.

A Letter To Mbak Dina

Good Morning Mbak Dina Oktaviani

I hope you read this in the morning so my greeting won’t be in vain.

My name’s Hary Prasojo S, a 20 years old boy who usually called Jojo by my friend. Mr .., oh no Mas Labo Dalih, since he doesn’t want to be addressed with ‘Mas’, showed me your letter in our previous class. As I mentioned in the previous sentence Mas Dalih only showed us the letter and then he asked one of us to read it for the entire class. I was so excited because it seems that your feeling and idea are just flowing into every sentence wrote, informal and casual.

Well what I learned from your letter is that your past, your childhood seems miserable. You lived a difficult life with your family, home, and even in the school. In the age of 13 you started to write and I assume now you are a good writer, even though I haven’t read any of your writing but this letter. Well, If you ask me what makes me think that you are a good writer? The answer is because of your letter and Mas Dalih showed it to the whole class, which makes me sure that you are a good example for us.

What I’m trying to say is why is every good writer or someone who very good at writing always dealing with such horrible past? I don’t know how terrible it was for you but still it was worse for me. My writer friends whose name can’t be mentioned also met the same fate in their past. Some of them ware abused and abandoned by their family, lived with danger that could kill them at any time, and growing up while taking care of their parents in the asylum.

You also said that we don’t have to suffer, to feel what you felt, to start or to be a good writer. But still you experience adds the fact that most of the good writer raise through the suffering. Well, it’s just a personal opinion and observation, maybe you can tell me it there are other good writer who never feel the suffering, it will raise my knowledge too.

For the last, I wanna ask you one thing. What does it takes to be acknowledged as a writer? Is our writing must be published first and then taking compliment from the writer?  Or is it enough to have it only as our hobby and keep the writing for some friends?  Because Sometimes I think the one who mostly called as a writer is the one who’s work has been read by many people and the one who has a good writing skill with published work is considered as a person with writing as the hobby.

However, personally I think that whether you are a famous writer or not, those who write are writers. And writing is an activity to carve something for the civilization and to be known as an existence through the ages.

Thank you very much.

Yogyakarta, 13 March 2013

Secretariat of Unit Fotografi UGM

Hary Prasojo Stafa’atillah

Me and My Bike

            One day I was staring on my motorcycle, an orange Supra X 125R manufactured in 2006. As I was standing and staring at its shabby body while looking for my writing idea, a conversation started to echo inside my brain.

            Me       : (Staring blankly)

            Supra   : Hey dude what are you doing?

            Me       : Nothing, just staring at you.

            Supra   : For what? Is there something strange with me?

            Me       : Nothing, I’m just going to write something about you.

            Supra   : What are you going to write about me?

            Me       : That’s exactly what I’m thinking about.

            Supra   : You just don’t know what are you doing, aren’t you?

            It has been ten minutes since i stepped to the parking lot. I have been walking around the corner to find something to write about until I stopped at this place. Perhaps because this 4 feet height    thing has been accompanying almost all the time, my heart is unconsciousnessly bounded, and I just walked to its side. Now ‘Supra’, that’s what most of the people including me called the Supra-branded motorcycle, is talking back at me.

            Supra   : Hey dude, have you finish staring at me yet? I have an idea for you.

            Me       : Great, what is it Supra?

            Supra   : Why don’t you write down about how do you treat me?

            Me       : Mmm..that’s a good idea. Why don’t you just tell me to make it more objective?

            Supra   : Okay pal. Suit your self, i’ve been holding this inside my heart for a long time.

            Me       : (Preparing my pen and book)

            Supra   : You really make me upset, look at my body, it’s so dirty. You are rarely get me washed as I deserve to. Everyday you let me burned down by the sun, washed down by the rain, sometimes the birds dumped their poop on me.

            Me       : Well if you got pooped on, that’s not my fault. It’s a normal thing for a parked vehicle like you.

            Supra   : I know, but you never do anything good afterward. Now let’s take a carefull look on me, some of my parts are terribly scratched and you do nothing about me. Don’t you care about my appearance?

            Me       : Well I actually do care. If I don’t i won’t spent my money on you in the first place.

            Supra   : That’s not the only ones. You are rarely take me to the monthly maintenance even it doesn’t cost a lot, the oil inside my body is getting rotten, i oftenly choked up every time you turn me on. You only spend your money for your self, you don’t care with me. I’m getting sick of this. Just sell me out to another people or maybe just dump me away. I better get dumped and crushed instead of living like this.

                        I was just keep writing as the imaginary conversation continued. Then a man walked in front of me, perhaps he was also wondering about my i was doing by sitting on the ground while writing down something.

                        Several minutes have passed and I stopped writing. The conversation suddenly ended when i realized that it was almost time to go back to the class. Then I just walked away from my motorcycle, wondering why such theme tuned out to be an imaginary conversation, perhaps since what Supra said came from the reality of how i treated him. My pace was getting faster and surprisingly something came up on my mind: I gotta take my Supra to the maintenance next week!

Creative Writing Class: The 1st Day

            

 By: Hary Prasojo Syafa'atillah

            This is the first week of the 6^th semester and we were at in the class of creative writing. As usual in the beginning of the semester, the chairs in the class were almost filled.

            Our lecturer looked also unfamiliar for us, he wasn’t any other lecturer we usually met in the English department room. His name was M. Dalih Akbar Sembiring. His height was about 170cm, a male with round-shaped glasses, wearing black-stripped navy blue skirt and jeans. This kind of dressing didn’t look like a regular lecturer, after that I realized that he is a reporter for certain newspaper after he explained. So, I guess he was summoned by the department to give some hand lecturing us.

            Then he strated to give lecture after explaining about himself. His hand was swaying the marker on the whiteboard writing several words while the other student were swaying their pen on nothing. They were just spinning their pen, some even just kept their pen on the table. Perhaps they were waiting for something important to be joted down on their note book.

             The class had been started for about 10 minutes and the door was opened. Several faces which were strange for our class appeared but their dressing looked familiar. They are the student of 2009 who retook the class maybe for making up their grades. For example Anggara, a boy who usually wear red Manchaster United jacket with short hair cut.

            Time went by and the class turned silent. Nobody speaking except Mr Dalih who did in front of the class. There were no other sounds from the students but the noise of the cellphone’s keypad, the whrilling wind from the AC, and low-voiced conversation that some students had.

            Everyone’s face also looked tired even this was a whole new semester. Their face expressed no spirit as if they have thorough almost half of the semester and dealing with a lot of homeworks. But, those who were in the front seats showed more attention through their eyes when they were asking to the lecturer. It is much better compared to those in the back whose eyes were oftenly clinging on nothing, maybe imganing things.

            The situation was getting lame, realizing that the students gave less attention to the class Mr.Dalih started to participate them. He told us to write sentences based on 5 senses and of course the hands which did nothing was starting to move the pens. After that Mr walked around the class to find several unique names to wrote their answer on the whiteboard. His pace was fast eventhough his eyes were looking to the name tag we made, he looked to the left and right so fastly as if his eyes are scanning rapidly. It didn’t take too long until he read my name and told me to go in front.

            Finnally the class was over. Everyone’s face looked brighter compared during the class. Their face showed a widely opened smile. Some of the boys even stretching their muscle when the lecturer asked them to leave. Maybe sitting in the class for about 2 hours is quiet tiring for them.

Solo Street Hunting

3 hari yang lalau.Tepatnya di hari Sabtu, 16 April 2011.Aku dan kawan-kawan calon anggota UFO 18 dan para PH UFO lainya mengadakan solo street hunting.Ya semcam hunting foto dengan menyusuri jalan dikota Solo.

Perjalanan dimulai pada jam 6 pagi.Berangkat dari markas besar UFO digelanggang mahasiswa UGM menuju stasiun Lempuyangan, Stasiun Lempuyangan dipilih karena alasan jarak yang jauh lebih dekat daripada Stasiun Tugu.Tapi ditengah jalan rombongan terbagi dua alias ada yang pergi ke Stasiun Tugu.Ya udah rombongan terpisah menjadi dua,kami yang udah sampai distasiun masingg-masing sepakat untuk bernagkat dari stasiun masing-masing.

Kami yang berada distasiun lempuyangan pun langsung membeli tiket.Mas Afnan, anggota UFO 17 menghitung kami yang berjumlah 10 orang untuk membeli tiket prameks (Prambanan Ekspres).Harga satu tiket Rp9.000.Tiket pun terbeli sebanyak 11 buah.ternyata Mas Afnan salah hitung.Yeah tiket lebih satu, Mas Afnan harus bertanggung jawab, hahaha.Kami pun langsung masuk kedalam stasiun setelah kami mencerca Mas Afnan habis-habisan karena kejeniusanya.

Didalam stasiun kami pun langsung menyetop sebuah kereta Prameks yang lewat (serasa angkot).Didalam kereta kami bertemu rombongan dari stasiun tugu.Tanpa pikir panjang kami pun langsung menyikat tempat duduk yang ada.Sementara yang lainya harus duduk dilantai (joss...).

Namun didepan deretan tempat duduku ada pemandangan ga enak.Ada seorang lelaki bergaya melambai, kulit putih, gaya keren, pakai t-shirt yang kerahnya molor kemana-mana, dada bagian atas cowok itu kelihatan.Dia kelihatan seperti GAY...!!! Dan dia duduk disamping ketua UFO kami yang gagah dan berwibawa, Mas Ucok.Ha..ha..ha..., kami hanya bisa ketawa cekikikan.Melihat Mas Ucok duduk disamping cowok yang kelihatanya GAY itu.

50 menit kemudian, kami sampai di Stasiun Solo Balapan.Jam menunjukan pukul 7 lewat 25 menit.Ternyata masalah belum selesai, masih ada yang ketinggalan di Jogja.Setelah ditelusuri, para manusia yang tertinggal itu berjalan terlalu "cepat" dan pintu gerbong Prameks tertutup rapat-rapat.Untungnya mereka dapat kereta lagi jadi bisa langsung tancap ke Solo.Tapi tetap aja kami yang udah di Solo harus menunggu para manusia yang tertinggal itu.Akirnya datang juga, para manusia tertinggal telah tiba.Akbar, salah seorang calon anggota 18 berkata, "SHIT MAN.."

Tim telah terkumpul, saatnya isi perut.Kami pun melangklahkan kaki dengan mantap menuju sebuah warung soto didepan Stasiun Solo Balapan.Delicioso......, sotonya enak ditambah segelas es teh.Semua hanya menghabiskan Rp.7000 (soto: Rp.6000+es teh: Rp.1000).

Perut kenyang, melangkah pun kenyang.Kami langsung menyusuri jalanan kota Solo dari Stasiun balapan menuju Kraton.Ditengah jalan para anggota tim huting langsung mnejprat-jepret sana-sini.Ditengah jalan kami menyempatkan untuk duduk sebentar didepan sebuah ruka.Salah seorang anggota UFO tiba-tiba da yang mengajak untuk foto bareng, saat berdiri telrihat dibawah kaki kami sebuah SHIT (kotoran hewan) dengan bekas pijakan disebelah kanan.Selamat buat yang telah menginjak kotoran tersebut, semoga anda diberkati Lucifer, dewa kehancuran.

Tak terasa kami pun samapai dipasar kelewer, udah deket juga sih sama Keraton Solo.setelah menunaikan sholat zuhur, kami langsung masuk kedalam pasar dan menyantap bakso di warung Pak Wariredjo.Lumayan enak baksonya, tapi pas kami membayar ternyata total semangkuk bakso dan segelas es teh adalah Rp.12000.Damn....larang tenan (mahal banget).Dengan terpaksa kami pun langsung membayar bakso yang mahal itu dan melangkahkan kaki keluar dari pasar kelewer.

Jauh diluar Pasar Kelewer, kami berkumpul kembali didekat Patung selamet Riyadi dan langusng berfoto ria.Saatnya kita pulang....., tim hunting langsung bergerak menuju stasiun Jebres dengan menaiki bus Damri.Sampai dijebres, beli tiket, dan kembali ke aktivitas yang "menyenangkan" yaitu menunggu.Disaa kami sedang menunggu kereta datang, kami mendapat berita duka.Ibunda dari teman kami dikabarkan telah meninggal dunia.Kami turut berduka ats kepergian beliau, semoga segala amal ibadahnya diterima disisi ALLAH SWT.

Akhirnya keretanya datang, kami pun langsung bergerak pulang ke Yogyakrta.Sesampainya di Gelanggang Mahasiswa UGM, sebagian ada yng langsu g pulang kesarang masing-masing dan ada yang tinggal sebentar dimarkas UFO.

What An Amazing Trip It Was....!!!!

Outcome:

• Tiket Prameks PP: Rp.9000 *2 = Rp.18000
• Soto + Es Teh : Rp.6000 + Rp.1000 = Rp. 7000
• Bakso + Es Teh : Rp.10000 + Rp.2000 = Rp.12000
• Total :..................................................................Rp.37000

Walau kami hanya calon anggota..
Tetapi inilah dedikasi kami untuk menjadi anggota
Tetapi bukan hanya sekedar mengejar terget, tetapi juga keakraban yang terjalin dengan tmean-teman
Menuju saat-saat hilangnya kata "calon"

Every big step starts with an inch

Gairah Lama Bangkit Kembali

Halo...salam para peselancar dunia maya.
Finally i'm back.Setelah 2 tahun lebih blog ini ga keurus akhirnya semangatku pun bangkit kembali untuk nge-blog.Semua isi yang ada diblog ini insyalaah akan ku rombak abis-abisan.
By the way, let me introduce my self
Nama lengkapku Hary Prasojo Syafa'atillah, panggil aja jojo (fyi: jgn tanyain shinta keong racun itu kalo ketemu aku.Liat iklan sosis so-nice aja aku males).
Lahir di Tarakan, 5 Oktober 1992.Menghabiskan masa-masa dikandungan, balita, anak-anak, TK, SD, SMP, SMA di Tarakan juga.
Tentunya sekarang jojo uda beda ma 2 tahun yang lalau.Secara sekarang uda mahasiswa gitu loh, hehehe0.Gak percaya??? Liat sendiri nih...

Voila.....
Walau sekarang masih 18 tahun.Tapi ga tau kenapa orang-orang yang ga kenal aku dikampus suka nyangka kalo aku adalah mahasiswa angkatan 2008 (am i look that old?)
Sekarang aku kuliah di Universitas Gadjah Mada, Fakultas Ilmu Budaya, jurusan sastra inggris.Memilih Sasing (sastra inggris) karena cinta dengan bahasa inggris sejak kecil.Hobinya menulis dan fotografi.Bercita-cita menjadi seorang jurnalis di National Geographic (amien...).
Sudah puas dengan sedikit perkenalan dariku?? Kalo belum ya udah.Selamat membaca blog ini.
Have a nice day folks...!!!!