Designed and reblog from casualdiary,  the most abang-able among us, dan yang paling pemalu.

Designed and reblog from casualdiary,  the most abang-able among us, dan yang paling pemalu.

visualgraphc:

HANY: The Camp fire

Symphonic Winds - Suite from ‘How to Train your Dragon’

3:45 always and always.

Architecture Portfolio Derek Pirozzi USF Core Design2010 USF SACD Outstanding Core Design Portfolio Award Nominee. This is my graduate design portfolio featuring coredesign work ( first and second year work.)

Architecture Portfolio Derek Pirozzi USF Core Design
2010 USF SACD Outstanding Core Design Portfolio Award Nominee. This is my graduate design portfolio featuring coredesign work ( first and second year work.)

Little Ears - Spark Alaska

dribbblepopular:

Logo Animation Original: http://ift.tt/1ciN8M0

dribbblepopular:

Logo Animation Original: http://ift.tt/1ciN8M0

Kota Maya

Oleh: Vallin Tsarina

Sudah satu jam lewat. Trans Jakarta masih penuh sesak. Masing-masing kita memburu nafas. Jendela berembun. Mungkin dari luar, bus ini seperti wahana sauna berjalan.

Sesampainya di tempat, sebuah warung sate dan soto Madura di pinggir jalan, telah riuh oleh tawa dan percakapan. Dua jam perjalanan untuk sebuah pertemuan dengan kawan-kawan. Ada yang terasa terlalu diusahakan, tapi texting tak mampu mengalahkan kesan dari sebuah pertemuan, bukan?

‘Kuningan macet banget, cuy.’
‘Thamrin ke Sudirman juga. Itu mobil-mobil plat item masuk jalur Trans Jakarta bikin macet aja!’
‘MRT, semoga cepet jadi. Amin.’
‘KRL mati lampu langsung bubar jalan tadi, gila. Chaos.’
‘DWP naik apa nih kita? Kenapa di ujung banget sih konser, ga di tengah kota aja.’
‘Mobil gue abis ditabrak Kopaja. Lo semua tau kan gue kalo nyetir paling hati-hati. Kadang, kitanya udah sehati-hati mungkin, pengendara yang lain yang mabok.’

Tiga ratus ribu hektar, sebuah calon kota baru di tepi timur. Para perencana perkotaan paling mahir dipekerjakan untuk membuahkan sebuah visi kota paling mutakhir. Studi kawasan telah dilakukan dari tingkat regional hingga ke tingkat kecamatan. Peta-peta telah berwarna pelangi. Tulang infrastuktur penyangga kota menggunakan sistem grid, demi kemudahan pergerakan, atau demi membingungkan penduduknya yang disleksia. Bisnis bergulir.

Kota ini riuh. Arsitektur menjadi penanda. Esplanade, Ordos, Soumaya Museum, London City Hall, Charminar.

Sebuah bangunan raksasa dengan koleksi pustaka yang tak akan habis kau baca, cocok untuk jenis penduduk yang sedikit kutu buku, Library of Alexandria. La Sagrada Familia, karya Gaudi yang entah kapan akan selesai tapi karenanyalah kau bisa merasakan keagungan Tuhan disana. Keimanan yang dinamis, tak pernah selesai dikaji. Mungkin Gaudi sedang bercakap dengan Tuhan di atas sana.

Gardens By The Bay, sebuah kebun raya yang paling kau suka. Pohon-pohon raksasa dengan teknologi penyaringan dan penampungan air. Dancing light setiap pukul delapan dan sepuluh malam. Sistem daur ulang energi paling mutakhir. Koleksi tanaman tropis di laboratorium rasksasa. Juga batu-batu kristal yang mengagumkan. Living museum yang sangat memadai untuk pendidikan warga kota, terutama untuk anakmu kelak.

Kawasan pusat bisnis paling meriah. Aqua Tower, seksi sekali, kau akan bangga berkantor disana. Dynamic Tower, siapa bilang tidak mungkin. Kau lihat, di atas sana, angin memang begitu kencang hingga mampu memutar torso bangunan. Arsitektur yang dinamis, canggih!

Mass Rapid Transit, monorail, guided bus, mobil pribadi, motor ataupun sepeda, sebutkan. Kau bisa nyaman bepergian dengan apapun di kota ini. Tak perlu khawatir macet. Sistem pengaturan lalu lintas telah begitu terprogram hingga aku pun tak tau bagaimana menjelaskannya padamu.

Kota ini menjelma cantik dan menarik bagi penduduknya. Infrastruktur industri didukung penuh oleh pemerintah. Energi terbarukan. Kehidup-an bertetangga sakinah mawaddah warahmah, dan yang paling seru, saling bertukar kado. Apalagi yang bisa kau harapkan dari sebuah kota paling mutakhir seperti ini?

“Build the city of your dreams! A city of Megapolis!”

Kriiiiit. Kriiit. Kriiit.

Angin menyapa ayunan yang kesepian di taman. Bocah-bocah masa kini tidak lagi main di luar. Mereka telah renta pada sinar matahari dan rapuh pada rintik hujan. Dunia ada pada sekotak layar bergerak.

image

Lonely Swing

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Kekecewaaan kita pada kota dan sistem-sistem yang bekerja di dalamnya telah mendorong kita mencari pelarian yang paling mungkin untuk dilakukan. Mimpi dan cita-cita mengenai kota yang lebih baik selalu ada, hidup dan dipelihara, meski terbentur dengan sangat brutal oleh waktu, dimensi, dan sumber daya.

Megapolis [1] adalah salah satu pelarian yang sedikit menyenangkan. Sebuah simulasi kota, tanpa terbentur realita. Waktu dipercepat, kita bisa melihat bagaimana sistem perlahan bekerja.

Disana, mimpi kita tentang kota mungkin menjadi nyata. Ya, sebuah ilusi yang nyata, sebuah kota maya. Hingga saat akhirnya kita kembali ke kota yang sebenarnya, kebingungan kita menjadi semakin nyata.
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Manusia-manusia kota.
Kita tidak lagi peduli pada anggunnya helaian sirus dan indahnya derap sirokumulus. Kita telah acuh pada hangat matahari pagi dan belaian angin. Bukankah kita terlalu sibuk menyiasati macet?

Kita tidak lagi sempat –atau menyempatkan diri– sejenak menikmati matahari senja dan langit jingga. Kau tahu? Pukul setengah enam adalah jam-jam keemasan. Dan pergerakan matahari hilang di perbatasan berlangsung hanya kurang dari lima menit. Hari-hari ini, matahari lebih sering hilang di balik gedung-gedung pencakar langit.

Kita telah lupa, pada malam yang hiruk pikuk, bulan pernah menyabit purnama. Dan bintang-bintang masih di tempat yang sama.

Kita lupa menengok ke atas. Di tangan, sekotak layar bergerak sibuk meminta perhatian.

[1] Megapolis is a city building game that involves creating your own virtual city by
building residential houses, condos, and hotels, developing commercial and municipal infrastructure, engaging in industrial production, providing sufficient water and electricity, expanding your territory, and making your neighbors happy with gifts of building materials to assist them with construction projects. In the early stages, players focus on designing and building their city. In the more advanced stages, the social aspects of the game become more critical as players must obtain building materials from neighbors to complete quests and other construction projects.
Sumber: http://sqmegapolis.wikia.com/wiki/Megapolis_Wiki

(Source : di-beranda)

Shigeru Ban, for Pritzker Price 2014

Shigeru Ban, for Pritzker Price 2014

Nurlela covered by Payung teduh. 

Tasbeeh Herwees, The Names They Gave Me

“Your name is Tasbeeh. Don’t let them call you by anything else.” My mother speaks to me in Arabic; the command sounds more forceful in her mother tongue, a Libyan dialect that is all sharp edges and hard, guttural sounds. I am seven years old and it has never occurred to me to disobey my mother. Until twelve years old, I would believe God gave her the supernatural ability to tell when I’m lying. “Don’t let them give you an English nickname,” my mother insists once again, “I didn’t raise amreekan.” My mother spits out this last word with venom. Amreekan. Americans. It sounds like a curse coming out of her mouth. Eight years in this country and she’s still not convinced she lives here. She wears her headscarf tightly around her neck, wades across the school lawn in long, floor-skimming skirts. Eight years in this country and her tongue refuses to bend and soften for the English language. It embarrasses me, her heavy Arab tongue, wrapping itself so forcefully around the clumsy syllables of English, strangling them out of their meaning. But she is fierce and fearless. I have never heard her apologize to anyone. She will hold up long grocery lines checking and double-checking the receipt in case they’re trying to cheat us. My humiliation is heavy enough for the both of us. My English is not. Sometimes I step away, so people don’t know we’re together but my dark hair and skin betray me as a member of her tribe. On my first day of school, my mother presses a kiss to my cheek. “Your name is Tasbeeh,” she says again, like I’ve forgotten. “Tasbeeh.”

ii.
Roll call is the worst part of my day. After a long list of Brittanys, Jonathans, Ashleys, and Yen-but-call-me-Jens, the teacher rests on my name in silence. She squints. She has never seen this combination of letters strung together in this order before. They are incomprehensible. What is this h doing at the end? Maybe it is a typo. “Tas…?” “Tasbeeh,” I mutter, with my hand half up in the air. “Tasbeeh.” A pause. “Do you go by anything else?” “No,” I say. “Just Tasbeeh. Tas-beeh.” “Tazbee. All right. Alex?” She moves on before I can correct her. She said it wrong. She said it so wrong. I have never heard my name said so ugly before, like it’s a burden. Her entire face contorts as she says it, like she is expelling a distasteful thing from her mouth. She avoids saying it for the rest of the day, but she has already baptized me with this new name. It is the name everyone knows me by, now, for the next six years I am in elementary school. “Tazbee,” a name with no grace, no meaning, no history; it belongs in no language. “Tazbee,” says one of the students on the playground, later. “Like Tazmanian Devil?” Everyone laughs. I laugh too. It is funny, if you think about it.
iii.
I do not correct anyone for years. One day, in third grade, a plane flies above our school. “Your dad up there, Bin Laden?” The voice comes from behind. It is dripping in derision. “My name is Tazbee,” I say. I said it in this heavy English accent, so he may know who I am. I am American. But when I turn around they are gone.
iv.
I go to middle school far, far away. It is a 30-minute drive from our house. It’s a beautiful set of buildings located a few blocks off the beach. I have never in my life seen so many blond people, so many colored irises. This is a school full of Ashtons and Penelopes, Patricks and Sophias. Beautiful names that belong to beautiful faces. The kind of names that promise a lifetime of social triumph. I am one of two headscarved girls at this new school. We are assigned the same gym class. We are the only ones in sweatpants and long-sleeved undershirts. We are both dreading roll call. When the gym teacher pauses at my name, I am already red with humiliation. “How do I say your name?” she asks. “Tazbee,” I say. “Can I just call you Tess?” I want to say yes. Call me Tess. But my mother will know, somehow. She will see it written in my eyes. God will whisper it in her ear. Her disappointment will overwhelm me. “No,” I say, “Please call me Tazbee.” I don’t hear her say it for the rest of the year.
v.
My history teacher calls me Tashbah for the entire year. It does not matter how often I correct her, she reverts to that misshapen sneeze of a word. It is the ugliest conglomeration of sounds I have ever heard. When my mother comes to parents’ night, she corrects her angrily, “Tasbeeh. Her name is Tasbeeh.” My history teacher grimaces. I want the world to swallow me up.
vi.
My college professors don’t even bother. I will only know them for a few months of the year. They smother my name in their mouths. It is a hindrance for their tongues. They hand me papers silently. One of them mumbles it unintelligibly whenever he calls on my hand. Another just calls me “T.” My name is a burden. My name is a burden. My name is a burden. I am a burden.
vii.
On the radio I hear a story about a tribe in some remote, rural place that has no name for the color blue. They do not know what the color blue is. It has no name so it does not exist. It does not exist because it has no name.
viii.
At the start of a new semester, I walk into a math class. My teacher is blond and blue-eyed. I don’t remember his name. When he comes to mine on the roll call, he takes the requisite pause. I hold my breath. “How do I pronounce your name?” he asks. I say, “Just call me Tess.” “Is that how it’s pronounced?” I say, “No one’s ever been able to pronounce it.” “That’s probably because they didn’t want to try,” he said. “What is your name?” When I say my name, it feels like redemption. I have never said it this way before. Tasbeeh. He repeats it back to me several times until he’s got it. It is difficult for his American tongue. His has none of the strength, none of the force of my mother’s. But he gets it, eventually, and it sounds beautiful. I have never heard it sound so beautiful. I have never felt so deserving of a name. My name feels like a crown.
ix.
“Thank you for my name, mama.”
x.
When the barista asks me my name, sharpie poised above the coffee cup, I tell him: “My name is Tasbeeh. It’s a tough t clinging to a soft a, which melts into a silky ssss, which loosely hugs the b, and the rest of my name is a hard whisper — eeh. Tasbeeh. My name is Tasbeeh. Hold it in your mouth until it becomes a prayer. My name is a valuable undertaking. My name requires your rapt attention. Say my name in one swift note – Tasbeeeeeeeh – sand let the h heat your throat like cinnamon. Tasbeeh. My name is an endeavor. My name is a song. Tasbeeh. It means giving glory to God. Tasbeeh. Wrap your tongue around my name, unravel it with the music of your voice, and give God what he is due.”

Tasbeeh Herwees, The Names They Gave Me

"Give your daughters difficult names. Give your daughters names that command the full use of tongue. My name makes you want to tell me the truth. My name doesn’t allow me to trust anyone that cannot pronounce it right." -Warsan Shire

(Source: rabbrakha)

para maha ini terlalu terburu-buru dalam belajar bangunan. ada ego kehebatan maha, pelan-pelan. kita ini tidak sedang membuat benda mati.

—aku - yang hingga sekarang masih belajar mendeskripsikan tentang pintu dan kebahagiaan. 

"Let Her Go" - Passenger (Tyler Ward & Kurt Schneider)

01012014 

banyak cerita yang pasti 2013 menjadi sangat lebih baik bila dibandingkan tahun-tahun sebelumnya. karir memang tidak menanjak, tesis juga belum selesai. lebih kepada pencapaian hidup, dimana mimpi bocah ini banyak yang menjadi kenyataan. bertemu sahabat baru. kehilangan teman lama. pergi ketempat baru. mematahkan hati beberapa kali. yah.. namanya juga hidup. terima kasih 2013, dan Alhamdulillahirabbil’alamin.

harus punya resolusi. tapi biarlah saja tersimpan rapat. karir tidak terlalu difikirkan. jodoh pun masih sekedar candaan serius. klasik namun memang rezeki dan pasangan sudah ada talinya. dunia masih bulat, laut masih biru. kaki masih sehat, arsitektur cinta mati dan goresan budaya manusia di atas kanvas Sang Pencipta tetap asik untuk dinikmati. 2014, Bismillahirrahmanirrahim.