When I created this blog, I envisioned myself to be able to share my stories in English. Share what I’ve learned in school and in life. But obviously, my vision did not came true. My blog remains empty and lifeless… I’ve questioned myself why, and this summer, I think I’ve finally come to an answer.
I was born from a different mother tongue, called Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian language). I was raised and taught by her. As a result, my mind thinks in terms of Bahasa Indonesia too.
I thought I’ve overcome the language barrier. Four years after I started college in the US, I’ve been able to talk fluently, write papers, and read books in English. This summer, as I spend two whole months in my home country, I’ve read six fiction books so far (with one more waiting after this post). I began to realize that I prefer Indonesian better. The words flow more beautifully, and its richness in variety can construct stories upon stories with unlimited possibilities. It’s just easier to be creative with Bahasa Indonesia than with English.
Pretty lame excuse…
I know… that’s why I’m not going to start writing in Indonesian in this blog.
