Random Photos for Lens Check

As the title suggest this is just random photos with EXIF data intact for lens performance checking and comparison.

Bangka Belitung Malay Musical Concert

The musical concert was a cap to the Visit Bangka Belitung 2010.

Learning to Take Pictures

All these photos were taken with Canon EOS 1000D.

Ode to My Mother

You know in movies, when the main protagonists are losing their loved ones, how they’d lament and wish they could spend one more day together, and then cue some sort of tear-jerking orchestration. I’ve always thought that those kind of scenes were a tad too melodramatic.

How wrong was I.

Apparently, there’s nothing like losing your family, mothers, fathers, sons or daughters, sisters and brothers. It really leaves a hole in your heart like no other.

Forty days have gone since my mother passed away, yet the grief and the sorrow still lingers. Especially since, she left us so suddenly. None of my family was prepared of her being gone. She was just so healthy and cheerful in that morning.

Anyway, so there I was, in our family living room in my hometown, one of the more unreligious person you’d ever find, reading passages from the Holy Quran. I did sometimes read the whole translation curiously, because truth be told, I was doubtful of the relevance of that particular verses. However, I kept reading them knowing that she would be sad otherwise.

I wrote a piece in my blog about my father a while back. When he found out about it from my in law, I was told that he was so touched he had tears in his eyes. And I know deep down my mom probably wondering when I was going to write about her. I was going to, truthfully, but somehow it got postponed. Then all of a sudden, she’s not here anymore. I am disappointed at myself so much for this.

My mother was the real ambassador of our little family. She was fluent in five traditional languages, and got along very well with the neighbors or organizations she’s into. The one who single handedly kept everything beautiful in our home. Everything just seems so drab and empty now that she’s not among us anymore.

If I have even an ounce of creativity in me, pretty sure that it belongs in her gene pool. It’s just I don’t have her tact and grace in social life.

My father and I talked the other day mourning the fact that two most social members of our ever so decreasing family, both have gone now. I on the other hand have always been built like him, timid and awkward when socializing with other people.

I know that one could get carried away exaggerating facts when talking about one’s family. However, my late mom and late sis were indeed very well liked throughout their life. The many people that visited us during their memorial service were a testament to that. I’ve got to thank them for their prayers, hopefully it will somewhat summated to my inconsistent and unreligious way of praying for her.

Forty days have gone and here’s an ode to you, Mom. I’m just throwing the sentiments out in the air, hoping that it will reach to wherever you are now. I’m truly sorry I didn’t write it sooner, but know that you always live in my memory. Me, Dad and Fitra miss you so much …

Argh there goes that tears again …

Sense of Humor

What makes us laugh really? The easy answer would be; something funny. Although one could also questions what defines which are funny and which ones are not. The definition differs between each person with time and place as a variable.

A psychopath like Joker might laugh at the scary sight portrayed in the face of his victims, something that most normal people wouldn’t find funny in the slightest. Racist people may lol at some racist jokes which a lot of decent people would be offended by. An atheist would rofl at something considerably slanderous to some and vice versa.

Moreover, something that is funny usually comes surprisingly. The laughing meter might drop the next time it appears second time around. Public farting loudly in a college dorm obviously would be funnier than at some point in a family funeral.

It is tricky to learn when and where one should do or show anything funny.

Humor is different though. It’s a noun, which simply means an ability to provoke laughter and provide amusement. That means ‘sense of humor’ is a capacity to appreciate and experience humor.

Muslim’s sense of humor has been a topic of discourse in many places. So much so that Hollywood deemed it worthy of a dedicated film. The title is “Looking for Comedy in the Muslim World”. It’s not a totally bad attempt, several low key sarcasm, interesting dead-pan delivery, and explains bits and pieces about what is considered funny for some Muslims especially in India and Pakistan.

Albert Brooks plays as himself and lightheartedly insult not only at himself and his non-famous career but also at world’s inability to understand why some Muslims have trouble to laugh at the jokes from the western world.

Fascinatingly, Mr. Brooks, the leading actor in the movie, is of Jewish descent. They’re renowned for their self-deprecating high sense of humor. I don’t mean to stereotype (but I already did so might as well continue) yet since this is a good stereotype I hope no body would mind.

One of their strength is in the knack of finding humor even in the most adverse moments. For thousands of years they amass a wide range of jokes laughing at their oppressors, problems they’re having, themselves, even their relationship with Their God.

The ability to laugh at one self is probably something us Muslims might want to learn. It really pains me to see the over reaction by some of us in the events of an attempt of humor by some party in the west mocking the ‘barbaric and stupid’ Muslims.

Question: How many Muslims does it take to change a light bulb?
Answer: None. Muslims just sit in the dark and blame it on the Jews.

We should just laugh at these harmless or even the more offensive jokes and use it as impetus for self improvement. The extreme responses were probably just what they needed to bait. We have to learn that humor is not just about playful confrontation; it is also an amusing way in which people can recognize the tragedies of life without getting too depressed.

Although on flipside of the coin, sensitivity for ‘laughing at’ us probably required at the other side of the fence. I’m not talking specific about laughter and jokes aimed to ridicule Muslims, but to all group of people, especially sensitive issues such as religion, race, and sickness.

At least personally I hope they won’t do it too often. We might want to remember that for some of these easy targets, life is depressing enough without having certain high brow artists or some random party making a mockery of something they hold dear.

Certainly we haven’t been too deprived of other avenue of humors and entertainments to the point that we have to laugh at other people’s expense most of the time. It would be totally discouraging if people started to make fun of down-syndrome for example.

I myself laugh a lot. I laugh at children’s antics and smile at their cuteness. Banters between friends made me spill my tea to the keyboard, so probably am guilty of too easily amused. That’s why aged PC jokes still work well for me. Mr. Bean, Donald Ducks, Tom and Jerry continue to make me rolling on the floor laughing, so do other conventional comedy like Seinfeld and The Office.

Although I understand completely that: to each their own.

PS: Selamat menjalankan ibadah puasa Ramadhan bagi umat Islam.

Many Kinds of People

For the past six months, since moving to our home in Bekasi, we’ve been tremendously helped by our maid. Bu Sri is her name.

She is around forty years old and obviously quite an educated widow. She dressed up well, wears glasses, and her mannerism is different from conventional domestic helper that we know of. In fact, one of our neighbors thought that she’s the owner of our house and we actually rent the room from her. We told them she's an aunt. It feels like she is.

In a nutshell, we like her, so much that we’ve raised her salary twice in this short period.

Alas, just like every good story, there’s a complication. Apparently, Bu Sri, has an ogre of a brother. He is forty something brute of a man, a corporal in the army, and built like a bulldozer. Since the first time we meet him a while ago, we’re not that impressed with his behaviors. Always with sleazy innuendos, kinky stories, and often comes up unannounced when we were not at home.

It gets more intriguing for the fact that Bu Sri has quite a sum of savings from the pension of her late husband. She has earmarked that savings to build a house for her daughter, who’s married, and currently living with her in laws.

It seems that the big brother, being a twat person that he is, wants a piece of that stash. He asked her to buy him a Scorpio motorcycle and when she rejected that absurd request, he pushed Bu Sri to the floor so hard; she got bruises all over her arm and knee. He then stormed into her room and stole her hand phone (the one that we gave her) and important letters including savings book and pension papers.

We knew all this when we saw the giant tosser fled out of our house and we found her crying in her room. She told us all of the stories and we were just so incensed. According to Bu Sri, the man has been a bully all his life. She was beaten to pulp at least twice already, yet there’s nothing she could do about it. My wife consoled her that night. She’s asking permission the next day to leave for her hometown Magelang, taking care of the stolen documents.

Several days later, the lovely brother came to our house. I didn’t let him in, so he asked to speak from outside of the fence. The giant bastard told me that Bu Sri is no angel herself. He said that she’s been stealing from us a couple of times, some money, little stuffs like belt and bags and gave it to him. He came over to our house to return the stuffs, not the money mind you.

This however confirmed our mild suspicion. Some weeks ago, I found out that my wallet has been changing places and I was short fifty thousand rupiahs. Ira also lost an envelope with some money in it. Since those were isolated incidents and concerning small amount of money, we didn’t think much of it. On the other hand, we do think that because the thick brother was asking for money all the time, she had to do what she did.

Back to the dastardly brother in front of the porch, the sodding man gave me an ‘ultimatum’, we have to fire Bu Sri, otherwise he’ll come back with his police friends and we’ll be in the world of trouble.

In the name of jumping elephant, what an unbelievable nerve! I was having none of that and asked him to leave immediately. He scurried away with his bike, and gave me a nasty look that would scare little children before he vanished around the corner. Clearly, by his minuscule dimwitted logic, if he has to suffer not to get a bike, his sister should also suffer.

When we confronted this with Bu Sri, she cried and plead to us not to let her go, she has no other place to stay. She said that she hopes to stay with us even if we don’t pay her. Of course, we won’t be doing that.

A few moments later, the charming brother called my wife and said that he’s not afraid to die, he’s an army trained for confrontation, and he is ready to be fired because he’s been working as a bodyguard to a famous artist. We were just laughing to hear all that. This is shaping to be reminiscent of a soap we get to watch on the telly.

I guess that is what you get when you gave a shallow immoral person a gun, train him to kill without giving proper education and value to live in a civilized society. The man is a remnant of a barbaric time and we were surprised that those creatures exist in our midst.

Not on an entirely different theme, we went to Bandung last week. I’ll write some journal about the trip later. I’d like to talk about something else for now.

We stayed in a hotel near our old campus and enjoyed a memory lane roaming around Dago area. Just like any other visitors from Jakarta, we were shopping like there’s no tomorrow in the plethora of factory outlets scrambled around Bandung. The prices are just so good, we ended up with dozens of paper bags by the time we’re finished.

We checked out of our hotels. Given that there’s still some time before the travel bus arrived, we decided to have a meal at Suis Butcher, one of our favorite places when we’re in college. With hands full of goodies, I accidentally left my hand phone in the hotel lobby desk.

After a good one hour then I realize that something was missing. I was totally stunned with the thought of losing that phone. Ira immediately called my number and some woman answered. She’s the receptionist from the hotel. The lady ensured us that the phone was safe in their hands after one of the bellboy found it. We were so relieved and slightly surprised at the same time.

I rushed to the hotel with a taxi. I received my cellular with glee and thanked the person who found it several times. I gave the man some money as a reward, yet he refused to take it. I did force it in his hand though eventually. Rahmat is his name and I’ll never forget him. In this day and age, there are some honest people left around us too. If the bellhop were bent, he’d have a cool three to four million cash in his hand straight away.

I shared this story with some friends in the office, and all of them shared almost similar experiences. One left her phone in Breadtalk’s table and was returned intact. A friend left an ATM card inside an ATM machine, yet losing no money and got his card back. This truly made me feel good. It brought back my faith that there’s hope in this place. Not all of us are twisted. Not all of us are corrupt.

These contrasting stories however were a lesson for me. Not to be too trustful yet not to be too bitter and cynics towards others. I remember the movie Crash, which we like so much. There is wide spectrum of antics people could do to one and another depicted brilliantly in the movie. Even the most crooked can have an angelic moment in their life, and the noblest person can have a bit of evil in their heart. After all, we’re only people.

Selamat Ulang Tahun Indonesia

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