Feeling persecuted by foreign tongues

Are you someone who can only speak English and nothing else?

Do you always feel uncomfortable when people near you speak in another language to each other?

Why is that? Is it because you believe they are talking crap about you behind your back? Is it because you find it rude because you feel excluded?

There is only one effective method to deal with this: stop making everything about yourself, you conceited fuck!

If those people insist on speaking to you in a language you don’t understand, then you should be mad. But, we know damn well that is not the case.

What happens is they are speaking to each other – minding their fucking businesses – and then, you intrude their conversations, insisting they have to speak in English even when talking to each other. You believe you have to know what they are talking about, even when what they are talking about does not fucking concern your soiled ass.

You are the one being inconsiderate, not them.

I also notice that the likes of you love using this particular justification: those people may be talking about y0u behind your backs. Well, there is the keyword: MAY.

Unless they are talking to each other while staring at you mockingly, how do you – a worthless monolingual who doesn’t know the difference between there and their – know they are talking about you? No, probability is not an evidence.

Le me give you a tangential anecdote.

As you can tell, I am not a pleasant person to interact with. I can be aloof, rude and mean. I would be surprised if people don’t talk shit about me behind my back.

I am also from Indonesia, a culturally-diverse country with lots of languages. Relatives, classmates, teachers, shopkeepers, repairmen, mom’s acquaintances, clergymen, I grew up hearing them speaking Sundanese, Javanese, Batak, Minang, Dutch, Arabic and various Chinese languages like Teochew, Hokkien and Mandarin. I am only fluent in English and the national language, I understand none of the others.

But, despite all of those facts combined, I am never paranoid.

How am I not paranoid? Well, not only because I literally don’t have evidences of their badmouthing, I am also not conceited enough to believe others are thinking about me 24/7.

Basically, if the mere sounds of other languages unnerves you, it is not the speakers’ problem. It is yours.

Either you are narcissist who thinks the world revolves around you… or just a bigot desperate for excuses.

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Indonesian language is not easy as I thought it was

.As an Indonesian, I sometimes translate sentences from Indonesian to English and English to Indonesian for practical reasons and for fun. People -especially monolinguals- often don’t realise how difficult the act of translating can be. But, when it comes to translating dialogues, there is a disparity regarding the level of difficulty.

I personally find Indonesian-English a lot easier than English-Indonesian. While it is not the case for every native English speaker, many of them do speak colloquial dialects which are relatively intelligible to the standard register. Translating from Indonesian into English is not a hassle for me; I don’t feel weirded out about translating vernacular Indonesian sentences into standard(ish) English ones.

It is not as hassle free the other way around.

From what I observe, there seems to be an unspoken rule which mandates that every foreign language sentence -even ones written/spoken in vernacular English speeches- must be translated into standard(ish) Indonesian. On the surface, it seems to be a life-saving rule as the Indonesian language has many vernacular speeches of its own due to the country’s cultural diversity; determining which ones to choose would be nightmarish.*

But, I personally hate the “life-saving” rule. Why? Because no one -literally no one- speaks standard Indonesian as their everyday lives! People try defending it by asserting its status as the “proper” dialect. But, their defence will always be flimsy for two reasons.

One, linguistics does not believe in “proper” and “improper” dialects; they are all equal. Two, regardless how “proper” it is perceived by the masses, it is exclusively used in texts and scripted speeches; consequentially, dialogues written in it will always sound laughably rigid and unnatural.

I don’t know if Indonesian as foreign language classes ever tell students about how Indonesians speak in our daily lives. It would be a disservice for them if that wasn’t the case.

Don’t get wrong: I do think we need to learn standard Indonesian and we need to learn it formally. But, at the same time, we also need to learn the daily lives speeches from the street, as it is the only place where it can be “properly taught”.

And, because of the aforementioned sheer diversity of Indonesia, we also have to familiarise ourselves with more than one vernacular dialects. The only way to do that is to interact with as many Indonesians as possible, even better if they grew up in different regions.

That’s easy to do if you live in highly-populated cities with lots of migrants like Jakarta or, my hometown, Batam. But, if you live in a place with low number of migrants, you have to take the initiative of visiting other places. The further away, the better.

Of course, exposure can be achieved through media and pop culture consumption. But, the problem is Indonesian cultural industry is very Jakarta-centric. While non-Jakartan dialects have made appearances, the variety is strictly limited and their presence is almost solely used to stereotype non-Jakartans. It’s like trying to learn the many varieties of English and yet you learn by only consuming LA, New York and/or London productions.

Once you master a language’s standard register and its many vernacular speeches, you have become truly fluent.

The statement above is an obvious fact for truly multilingual people. But, it is not for some, who still believe standard registers are the only dialects worth learning, who still fail to realise that daily lives communication is as important, if not more.

Oh, and while it is not entirely related, I should also mention Indonesian names. They can add complications for foreigners who are struggling with Indonesian phonology.

Not unusual for any languages, there are indeed anomalies to it. But, most of the time, Indonesian words are pronounced as they are written. Once you get the general rule, uttering them would be as easy as a walk in the park.

Well, not really, because you have to deal with Indonesian names.

For one, there are Indonesians whose name use the Dutch-influenced old spellings, in which “c” is written as “tj”, “j” as “dj”, “y” as “j” and “u” as “oe”. Admittedly, there aren’t that many Indonesians with such names. Unless you dabble with colonial era artefacts, you almost never encounter the old spelling.

There are also Indonesians who bear foreign names, especially Arabic and western ones; the former is common among Arab-Indonesians and highly religious Muslims, while the latter is common among some Christians and Indonesians of Eurasian descent.

The Arabic names often have “kh” and “sh” spellings, which are almost never used in Indonesian language. With western names… well… it is no secret many of them are not always pronounced as they are written.

Then, there are parents who make their own rules.

I don’t know whether this is common among the masses or not. But, there are Indonesian celebrities who love giving their children “weird” names. There is a couple who name theirs Btari and Btara, even though they could have spelled the names as Betari and Betara (the “e” is a schwa (well, “e” is almost always a schwa in Indonesian)). There is also another who name their son Xabiru, even though they could have spelled it as Sabiru (as X is barely used in Indonesian, especially as the first consonant in a word).

Just because you master the phonology and orthography of the Indonesian language, that does not mean you have mastered Indonesian names. They are an entirely different beast.

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I don’t know why I used to see Indonesian as an easy language. Maybe, it has something to do with grammatical tenses, which exists in English and doesn’t in Indonesian. But then, Indonesian (and Malay in general) has a strong affixes game which puts English’s to shame; it took me many years to truly appreciate their power. I guess my underestimation of Indonesian language was driven by cultural cringe.

But, at the same time, I also have a more compelling reason why I prefer to write in English over Indonesian.

In English, I can easily write in the standard register while still employing a conversational and even a personal tone. In Indonesian, doing so in the standard register is near impossible because my mind always associate it with absolute formality; if I try to sound conversational, I always end up sounding like a robot who tries to sound human and fails.

Of course, I could have simply written my blogs in vernacular Indonesian. I can comfortably chat in it. So, surely, writing blogs in it shouldn’t be a biggie, right?

Well, it is.

I want my blogs to maintain some level of formality. In English, I can add many colloquialism here and there and it would blend with the formality really well. In Indonesian, I have to restrain myself from using too much colloquialism, unless I want it to stick out like an infected sore thumb.

English allows formality and colloquialism to mingle with each other. Indonesian abhors the union, insisting both must stay segregated at all times.

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*My fellow Indonesians would probably think I am making an issue out of nothing.

The thing is we do have a colloquial dialect that is not only understandable to virtually every Indonesian, but is also culturally neutral. If standard Indonesian is too rigid for you, the neutral vernacular would make a great alternative. No need to rummage all over the archipelago just to find the perfect dialect for the dialogues.

I don’t think this vernacular is rigid and unnatural like standard Indonesian is. But, the cultural neutrality makes it boring.

Speaking for myself, I do think regional accents and dialects are nicer to listen to. There is something inexplicably nice about them. Not only they sound genuinely friendlier, they can also amplify the playfulness, wittiness, frustration and anger of our words. They add liveliness and dynamism to dialogues.

Wouldn’t it be nicer if Indonesian translations of foreign works employ some regional colloquialism instead of the lifeless neutrality?

I first had this thought when I noticed how awful the dialogues in the Indonesian translation of Harry Potter are; the books are littered with attempts to use “proper” language, with results that only deserve nothing but laughter and pity.

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Something the English-only crowd need to know about

Nobody falls for your superiority complex.

You can argue that speaking any other languages is divisive. But, the fact that you berate others simply for being harmlessly different means you are the divisive one. In order to feel better, you project your own flaw onto others.

You can brag about being monolingual all you want. But, scientific studies have proven that multilingualism make us more perceptive, better learners and more cognitively resilient in our old age. Basically, monolingual pride is a celebration of weakness.

You can bash us foreigners for supposedly having shit English. But, you are obviously jealous when we speak and write English eloquently while you are still too dumb to understand they’re, their and there.

You can also bash our English when you don’t have any comebacks. But, deep down, we all know you are jealous that we can outsmart you using your native language, literally the only language you know.

You can think highly of yourselves. But, nobody -apart from your fellow sufferers- fall for your Anglo superiority complex.

We are literally laughing at you! Even your fellow Anglophones laugh at you!

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The unimagined perspective of my ‘heritage’

I love (some of) the works of Bjork, George Gershwin, John Coolidge Adams, Mahavishnu Orchestra, Andrei Tarkovsky, Ingmar Bergman, Kurzgesagt, Jacksepticeye, Enya, Jostein Gaarder, Pramoedya Ananta Toer, Phil Collins, just to name a few.

You probably haven’t heard many of them, let alone knowing what their jobs are. The ones you have, there’s a chance you aren’t familiar with their works. That gives me mixed feelings.

On one hand, it is isolating. I am very conscious about how my distinct taste is from other people’s. If I am a more social and talkative person offline, the isolation would be more intense as I would probably tell more people about my idols and hence stressing the differences between me and the others.

But, on the other hand, I feel like I am possessing an exclusive knowledge that not everyone knows about! I mean, even the most popular creators in history are not beloved by or familiar to every person in existence! Just imagine being a fan of creators of significantly more niche audience.

Call me pretentious. But, I feel special because I am intimate with the bohemian and unrivalled beauty of Bjork’s alien-sounding music, Andrei Tarkovsky’s incredibly unearthly films, John Coolidge Adams’ simultaneously surrealist and realist music, Ingmar Bergman’s unabashedly psychological films and Pramoedya Ananta Toer’s politically cynical literary works.

I should mention that Pramoedya Ananta Toer was a critically acclaimed Indonesian novelist whose works had been translated into dozens of foreign languages; This Earth of Mankind (Bumi Manusia) is one of my favourite books ever. While he was infamous back then for being an alleged Communist, a result of the then-regime’s slander who was too fragile to deal with his criticisms, I doubt most Indonesians nowadays know who he is.

Oh, and speaking about Indonesians…

I also have the same feeling about mainstream Indonesian entertainment which I find insufferable with its shameless lack of originality and veneration of mediocrity. But, there are occasions where I still love it (and hence why the word ‘heritage’ in the title has quotation marks on it).

At one point, there were two Indonesian TV shows I used to love: Opera van Java (or OVJ for short) and Kick Andy. I no longer love watching them because of the repetitiveness and the realisation of their poor quality. But, admittedly, I have some fond memories watching them.

The premise of OVJ was comedians making sketches which were chronologically linear and interconnected with each other. From that description alone, the show did not sound special. But, it still had its charm.

For one, while being told to enact or reenact certain scenes, the performers were not given any scripts. They had to improvise. As they were humans with their own minds (and they were Indonesians who love to take advantage of the slightest laxing of rules), the end results were always chaotic!

The last time I watched, there was a large amount slapstick (and sometimes, the performers slapped each other) which was encouraged by the mostly styrofoam-based props, a heavy use of drag (even though last time I heard, cross-dressing was no longer legal on TV broadcasting), extremely politically incorrect jokes that would not go well in the west, the performers’ rebellious tendency who had no interest in enacting the desired stories and the absurd, nonsensical nature of the humour. Even though OVJ was not funny all the time and some of the performers weren’t just that funny, I often found myself laughing out loud while watching the show.

Kick Andy was a talk show who often invited guests for their guilt-tripping inspirational and/or sob stories; to think that I used to love such monstrosity. But, what I love the most about the show was its occasional bouts of humour.

The host himself was one cheeky fellow. From time to time, he loved to make fun of Central Javanese accents. When interviewing the oldest Indonesian to ever get a bachelor’s degree, a master’s degree and a doctorate (yes, really), he asked if her typewriter was older than her. When interviewing a man whose job to eradicate corruption, he cheekily said many people would love to see him dead; in this particular context, it sounds like the host jokingly wish for his interviewee’s death. I love this kind of cheekiness. It feels like a slap to the face of double-dealing politeness which one is expected to conform to when living in Java.

I haven’t mentioned about the guests themselves. Some loved to troll the hosts by intentionally giving ridiculous answers. They also loved to make fun of his curly hair; after he shaved his head, the bald jokes were easily born.

Okay, I have lingered too much on just two TV shows. I should transition to two of my favourite Indonesian pop musicians before I state the point of this article.

Even though I love many Indonesian pop songs, there are two Indonesians musicians of such genre that I admire the most: Chrisye and Guruh Soekarno Putra.

Obviously, both have their own flaws. Guruh can be quite pretentious every time he expresses his nationalistic pride. Whether knowingly or not, Chrisye occasionally let some of his collaborators to plagiarise Western pop songs. But, from my perspective, their strengths stick out more.

Chrisye was a pop singer who did a relatively good job balancing his idealism and his realistic need of money. He occasionally composed songs for other musicians as well. Despite what I said in the previous paragraphs, he was very particular about choosing his collaborators. For some reasons, every time he did covers, they ended up as good as or even better than the originals.

Guruh Soekarno Putra is a songwriter notable for the traditional influences in his melodies and some of his most well-known works were originally sung by Chrisye. He sincerely appreciates both traditional Indonesian cultures and western ones equally and that’s a rarity considering many snobby Indonesians often choose one over the other.

Their first collaboration was Guruh Gipsy, an influential and ambitious one-time project where traditional Balinese music is fused together with prog rock and Western classical. Their experiences with fusion music make them stand out among Indonesian pop musicians. Not only they exude humble sophistication, their subsequent works also end up feeling distinctively Indonesia in spite of the western influences and the lack of traditional instruments in the arrangements.

Every time I listen to their songs, I always feel a strange sense of nostalgia, even though many of them were released years before I was born. On rarer occasions, the feeling is a weird concoction of nostalgia and contentment; maybe, the fact that a shithole country like Indonesia can still create beautiful melodies make living here significantly more bearable (and makes me realise Indonesia has strengths that other countries lack and it is not as bad as it seems).

Now, to why I write this article in the first place…

I tried my best to describe why I love certain features of Indonesian pop culture. Even if I try to be more descriptive, I doubt any foreigners reading this would relate to what I am saying. Why? Because it is Indonesian.

Even though Indonesian traditional performance arts are being taught all over the world, Indonesian culture in general is still poorly promoted abroad. Our national language is still not a popular language for foreigners to study. Our sensibility is still a mostly undisclosed entity on the world’s stage (no wonder some people think the we are entirely governed by Sharia!). The popularity of Indonesian pop culture only extends to our neighbours, whose national languages are intelligible to ours and members of the diaspora who are still Indonesian citizens.

When interacting with foreigners, I often feel isolated because I cannot share them some of the things I am passionate about. I did share them some Indonesian songs which they considered catchy or artistic. But, they (understandably) don’t get why those songs are culturally significant to Indonesians.

But, because of the isolation, I also feel special.

Yes, I know I am talking about Indonesian pop culture, which is mainstream in one of the most populous countries on earth. But, I have to remind you that its popularity is still geographically limited…

… And because of that geographical limitation, it feels like I am enjoying very exclusive cultural entities that not everyone will appreciate! I feel like I belong to an exclusive club which membership is notoriously difficult to acquire!

This begs the questions: do citizens of countries with globally influential cultures possess such sense of exclusivity?

When it comes to countries like Japan, South Korea and India, I am not sure whether their citizens possess such feeling or not.

Japan and South Korea obviously use Japanese and Korean respectively to convey their cultures. While English is widely spoken prestige language in India, the (bountiful) native languages like Hindi, Bengali, Punjabi, Telugu and Tamil are still the preferred choices for songs and films.

But, at the same time, Japanese and Korean are widely taught as foreign languages overseas. Hindi, Bengali, Punjabi, Telugu, Tamil and many other Indian languages are still widely spoken by members of the diaspora who are no longer citizens of India. So, I have to assume the sense of exclusivity does exist, albeit less intense than the one I am personally experiencing.

So, how about the Americans and Brits?

Their entertainment is still distinctively theirs. But, not only it has a very strong global marketability, it also expresses itself using English which, while not the most spoken language in the world, is arguably the most widely taught foreign tongue.

With those facts in mind, it is extremely easy for British and American pop cultures, especially the latter, to penetrate (I am so sorry) every present-day cultural sphere. While American and British sensibilities are not universally embraced, there is no doubt many citizens all over the world are heavily exposed to at least either one!

There is no doubt some citizens of the US and the UK develop pride (and arrogance) seeing the muscularity of their ‘heritages’ on the world stage… and for that reason alone, they surely believe their cultures can be enjoyed and understood by everyone! Surely they don’t experience that sense of exclusivity!

Did I just use conjectures to assume what other people are thinking and feeling? Yes, I just did.

Obviously, I am projecting my own bias. I judge the exclusivity (or the seclusion) of pop cultures based on the territorial span of their popularity, NOT on how distinctive they are.

There are probably Indonesians who don’t see anything exclusive (even I get tired of this word) about our pop culture. They may cite its popularity in our neighbours, they may cite its inherently pop nature or they may cite reasons that I don’t have the mental faculty to anticipate.

Citizens of culturally powerful countries like the US probably see their pop cultures as exclusive entities. They may assess the exclusivity based on peculiarity, NOT on geographical limitation. From their perspectives, my shamelessly unoriginal pop ‘heritage’ may not be deserving of such characterisation!

Objectively, I also agree with said frame of mind. I believe unfeigned and harmless uniqueness is something we should celebrate or, at least, should not be judgemental about (easier said than done, I know).

But, even though I can be uncompromising and odd in social settings, loneliness and solitude are the more conspicuous parts of my social life and, for reasons I have yet to grasp, I let it affects how I perceive pop cultures.

As bizarre as it is, I am glad that is the case. It gives me a perspective that I didn’t know I could have… or need.

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Defending my bias for English… walaupun masih hidup berdwibahasa

Not long ago, The Jakarta Globe published an article about Indonesian writers who publish their works in English. It asked its readers if English-language literature can still be considered as Indonesian. In the comment section, as an Indonesian who writes his blogs in English, I obviously answered yes. I believe the nationality of literary works should also depend on the heritage and the people they are depicting, not just on the languages being utilised.

It seems like a relatively harmless statement, right? Well, me being me, I followed it with a more provocative one.

I also described the Indonesian language, describing it as a lifeless, unyielding language with overtly-simplistic grammar, skin-deep vocabulary and clinginess on loanwords whose only purpose is to express pretentiousness, vulgarity and anger, unlike English with its richness and versatility which eases people’s efforts to express themselves. That’s how much I love my mother tongue. Of course, people weren’t happy with me and typical internet squabbles ensued.

Days after the arguments ended, I realised that I made errors in my reasoning. First of all, I implied that language was inherently sterile and rigid; I was trying to represent my opinions as objective facts. I am constantly guilty of this sin.

Second, every language in the world, even ones that have endured strict purism, has loan words! As someone who spends his free time on Wikipedia reading articles about languages, I should have realised that my ‘loan words argument’ is indefensible! If I remember correctly, I think one commenter called out this ignorance of mine. But, this is where I stop with the self-criticisms.

I still stand with my hatred of the simplistic grammar. Yes, English grammar is erratic. But, it is still quite detailed with its grammatical tenses and cases, lowering the chances of unintentional ambiguity. In Indonesian, if you want to make your sentences to be more specific, you have to elongate them by adding more words… and I hate that! But, what infuriates me about the squabble is my opponents’ false assumptions about me.

They argued that my distaste of Indonesian was motivated by hatred my own heritage. Yeah, no.

The older I get, the more I actually appreciate it. I love the unique ingredient and flavour combinations of Indonesian dishes; even ones of foreign origins taste uniquely Indonesian. I love our rich history, showing the drastic human changes the archipelago has endured. I love how we still retain our Hindu heritage, despite being predominantly-Muslim. I love musicians who make actual efforts to fuse traditional Indonesian sounds with western ones. I love the ethnic and cultural diversities; growing up with them, I often feel sorry for every person who sees diversity as a disease. Heck, to make it random, I even find myself enjoying performances of traditional Indonesian dances, despite never having any inclinations to dance!

So, when someone says I am a self-hating Indonesian because I bitch on my mother tongue, I call bullshit on that. In fact, my ability to see flaws in something I love indicates how my appreciation is still within reason and not motivated by blind love.

Oh, and speaking about blind love, one of my opponents, who constantly insulted me, explicitly said that anyone who dared to bad mouth his beloved language deserve nothing but ridicule and harassment; he considered my condemnation of the language as a personal attack against him. Not only he never bothered to hide his irrationality, he was deeply proud of it! Mentally, he is not unlike those religious fundamentalists. I am glad that my love of heritage is not plagued by such mindlessness.

The second thing they assumed about me was my Indonesian comprehension, guessing that mine was poor, which explains my inability to see beauty in the language and express myself with it. Yeah, again, no.

Long before I found comfort in English, I used to have no problems writing in Indonesian. But, as I get older and actually become more fluent in my native tongue, I find myself feeling more restrained writing in it and feeling more at ease doing so in the foreign one, even though I still could barely understand its basic grammar.

In fact, to this day, my Indonesian is still better than my English! I am more likely to open up the dictionary when reading English texts than I am while reading Indonesian ones. I have written two Indonesian-language blogs and it took me only a day or two to finish each, compared that with my English-language ones which can take weeks to finish. Until last year, I didn’t know that ‘sheep’ was both singular and plural, didn’t know how to spell ‘privilege’ and I still don’t know how to spell ‘prostelize’! I use online bots to proofread my blogs!

Also, unlike many Indonesians I have met, I know how to say words like ‘download’, ‘upload’, ‘online’, ‘offline’, ‘computer mouse’, ‘link’, ‘server’, ‘edit’ and ‘orange’ in Indonesian*. I prefer the word ‘penelitian’ over ‘riset’**. I also know how to use ‘di’ properly; as a suffix, it should never be separated from the root words while as a preposition, it should remain a separate word***! Even Indonesians with university education still get this basic grammar wrong!

So, the idea that my preference of English has anything to do my language comprehension is also bullshit. Also, unlike my opponents, I proved my fluency as I made one rather long reply in Indonesian! But, they are too blind to see it, too simple-minded to acknowledge that distaste does not always mean lack of fluency.

Let’s go back to my mistake I mentioned. Besides shamelessly presenting subjectivity as objectivity, I also forgot that I still can enjoy the beauty conveyed through my native tongue.

There are no shortages of time when I listen to Indonesian oldies and indie songs and think, ‘damn, those are beautiful lyrics!’. People like Guruh Soekarnoputra, Eros Djarot and Titiek Puspa made me realise that songwriters are also poets! As a student, I often had to analyse excerpts of literary works that, judging from the richness despite the small number of words, were clearly written by accomplished writers.

Besides foods and music, Indonesian language is one tool I utilise to get in touch with my roots. Using it makes me feel closer to them, unlike English which seems to widen the distance. This is why I refuse to let go of my native tongue…

And still, I cannot manifest my inner self through it.

No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I expand my vocabulary, my native tongue always fails to satisfy my intellectual and emotional needs; my Indonesian writings always end up rigid, sterile and skin-deep. In spite of the cultural detachment, English embodies my thoughts and feelings with greater perceptiveness by seizing their more abstract and indistinct peculiarities. It also allows me to be more playful and light-heartedly sarcastic (even though contemptuous sarcasms are more pleasing to spurt out) and minimises my likelihood of sounding pretentious.

How did this come into being? Well, I am confident it has something to do with my identity. I do have Indonesian citizenship. But, personally, I identify both as a highly westernised Indonesian and a global citizen. This weird concoction of selfhood requires a somewhat culturally inclusive language to manifest itself through letters. Between Bahasa Indonesia and English, guess who wins?

Adding to my already-unconvincing anecdote, I also happen to know Indonesians who speak English better than they speak Indonesian and yet they still find their own native tongue more pleasing to make use of. Knowing them, those people definitely don’t share my cultural identity crisis!

Someone (I forgot who) told me that a language is just a communication tool. Emphasise on the word ‘just’. Focus on what the tool can do, not on what category it belongs to. Yes, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. But, what we choose to convey our deepest thoughts and feelings is none of other people’s business! Unless we are dealing with snowflakes, our trivial personal choices do not and will never harmfully impact humans with whom we share the world!

My plan is to keep writing in English and, to lesser extent, Indonesian, to learn at least one regional Indonesian language and one more foreign language. But, if I am more idealistic, I would love to learn six regional languages and six foreign ones, not including classical languages like Kawi and Latin and more obscure ones like Gaelic and Ainu which have been intriguing me for years! Oh, and I would love to write children’s books in Indonesian under a pseudonym; seriously, I would love to write calm-paced and imaginative children’s stories that contain assertive yet non-preachy messages about the importance of curiosity, reason and tolerance.

But, realistically, I will probably stay bilingual, will never be fluent in any of those classical or obscure languages and probably will never write a single book.

Oh, well. One can dream!

 

 

 

*’Unduh’, ‘unggah’, ‘daring (dalam jaringan)’, ‘luring (luar jaringan)’, ‘tetikus’, ‘tautan’, ‘peladen’, ‘sunting’ and ‘jingga’, respectively.

**Both words mean ‘research’.

*** ‘Di Jakarta’ and ‘di rumah’ mean ‘at Jakarta’ and ‘at home’, respectively. ‘dibuka’ and ‘dimakan’ mean ‘(being) opened’ and ‘eaten’, respectively.

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