The words “blogging”, “blogger” and “blog” have started to appear on our … um … blog of late. It seems we avoided the terms for so long despite our web address and our use of “I”.
It’s all happening this week. Ananda Ayu and I attended the nerdiest of nerd conventions, Pesta Blogger. Om’bak finally created a blog roll, tapping into the broader blogosphere. And we received much-appreciated kudos from much-respected blogger Jakartass.
Even in my short career as a “person who regularly uploads her thoughts onto the web”, coming up with something of some substance to say on a weekly basis is not always simple.
Now the thing with blogging is that it is just so:
There are no rules. You can say and do as you please — so long as you steer clear of the topic of Prophet Mohammad. There is no need to adhere to strict news-cycle principles.The rules are the ones you set yourself. We are young women who write about Australia, Indonesia, Australia and Indonesia, and Indonesia and Australia, for instance.
So in the lead up to a blog post, possible topics to broach, both light-hearted and serious, whizz around your brain — Jakarta, ojeks, Senayan pizza man, beautiful dreadlocked boys, reggae, blues, art, HIV prevention policies, Malaysians banning yoga and tomboys, kopi susu, friends, living vicariously through literature, film censorship — until they finally settle.
And then something happens in the world. This time in India, Mumbai to be precise. Something so ghastly, so horrible, so terrifying, so brutal, it stops you in your tracks. It demands your attention. It demands the attention of others. It demands your words, your thoughts.
But there is nothing much to say. The stupidity of others amazes you, as does their heartlessness. (And yet the words stupidity and heartlessness are infinitely incongruous.) Words escape.
And no matter how many words have gone before about things so inconsequential…
Silence is all you can manage.