I’ve been spending a lot of time at my workbench lately, just let my hands do the talking while my mind wanders back to the people who really made me, me. I realized that my whole leather journal obsession isn't just about the craft, it’s about the stories we choose to keep. So, I decided to start a project that’s been sitting in my heart for a while, making handmade journals for the absolute best people in my life. I’m starting with Bu Titin Sunaesih, and honestly, just thinking about her makes me smile. It’s funny how the universe works, because I actually bumped into her just a few days ago. I was driving, probably overthinking something like I always do, when I spotted her walking on the sidewalk. I didn't even hesitate, I just pulled over right there, hopped out, and ran over to her just to say hi and salim. She told me she’s retiring in about a year or a year and a half, and goddd, cepet banget. It felt like a little piece of my history was moving on to a new chapter. She was my Indonesian teacher, and if I had to describe her in one word, it would be beaming. She’s just one of those people who carries her own light around with her. I’ll never forget this one afternoon back in school. We were in the middle of an exam, you know that heavy, serious atmosphere where everyone is just stressed out and staring at their papers? One of the essay questions asked us to write a poem. Most kids probably just wanted to finish and go home, but I just went for it. I let my imagination run wild, totally forgetting I was even in a classroom. I was so focused on my paper that I didn't even notice her walking around the room. Suddenly, I felt this soft, gentle hand just brush over my head, like a little pat of encouragement. I looked up, and there she was, standing right behind me. She didn’t say a word, but her face was glowing with this huge, proud smile, like she was genuinely happy to see what I was creating. That one little moment, that simple gesture of her just being there and acknowledging my work, is the reason I’m not afraid to write today. It’s why I still pour my thoughts onto paper or a screen, no matter where I am. She gave me that spark of confidence when I was just a kid trying to find my voice. So, I’m making this journal for her. I want it to feel just like she is, something warm, friendly, and honest. I’m picking out a leather that’s soft to the touch, something that feels like it’s been waiting to hold a good story. I want her to have a place to write down all her own thoughts once she finally gets that well-deserved rest from the classroom. It’s my way of saying thank you for that one afternoon, and for every day after that where I felt brave enough to pick up a pen. After I finish the journal for Bu Titin, the next one on my bench is definitely for Pak Hanafi. If Bu Titin was the one who gave me the heart to start writing, Pak Hanafi was the one who gave me the backbone to actually stand by my words. He was my Indonesian teacher too, but man, he’s always felt way more like a father figure than just someone standing at a whiteboard. He’s the reason I stopped just writing for myself and started showing it to the world. He was the one who dragged me into poetry competitions and literally cheered me on until I was reciting my work in front of the city’s arts council. He even got my poems published in the newspaper, I still remember that rush of seeing my name in print for the first time. I always tell myself that no matter how old I get, I want to stay the kind of student he can be proud of. Thinking about him always makes me laugh, especially when I remember our practice sessions. There was this one time during poetry rehearsal where he actually got legit mad at me. I was being all shy and quiet, probably mumbling my lines like I was talking to my shoes, and he just wasn't having it. He started scolding me, basically demanding that I stop being afraid of my own voice. He kept pushing me to just scream, to be loud, to be messy, to be expressive. At the time, I was probably terrified, but looking back, it’s honestly hilarious. I would give anything to go back to that exact moment just so I could watch my younger self struggling to find a loud voice and just have a good laugh at how ridiculous I must have looked. He wasn't just being tough; he was trying to wake me up. He knew I had it in me even when I was too scared to see it. So for his journal, I’m going for something that feels a bit more rugged and sturdy, something that can handle a lot of life. I want it to be the kind of leather that gets better as it gets scuffed up, kind of like how his tough love made my character a lot stronger. Making this for him feels like a way to say thanks for the guidance, the fatherly lectures, and for teaching me that sometimes, you just have to yell to be heard. Next up is Naveena. Honestly, if you told my younger self that my best friend would be someone who unironically checks birth charts, I would’ve told you you were dreaming. I used to have this one, absolute, hill-to-die-on rule: Never befriend anyone who takes zodiac signs seriously. I was so dead-set on it. But then life decided to humble me. I met Naveena at this random siomay spot, and before the food even arrived, she looked me straight in the eye and asked for my zodiac sign. Just like that, my one big rule was absolutely demolished. She just has this way of bypassing all your defenses without even trying. Now, she’s a full-blown best ever girl i met (yes, I’m still that annoying friend who brags about it to everyone), and our friendship is the ultimate low-maintenance goals. We can go ages without a text, and then pick right back up like we’ve been hanging out every day. I’ve reached a point where I just sit there and listen to her blame Mercury’s position for why her week was a mess, and I don't even argue anymore. It’s just part of the Naveena package. But man, trying to design a journal for her is a struggle for the most ridiculous reason: she doesn't have a favorite color. Like, at all. Who does that?! I was trying to be all thoughtful and pick something she’d love, and I realized she gives me absolutely nothing to work with. It's so annoying, haha! So, since she won't choose, I’m making the executive decision for her. I’m going with a bold, striking red. It just fits her energy perfectly, she’s a total baddie, and she needs a journal that can keep up with that "don't mess with me" confidence she carries around. It’s going to be loud, it’s going to be stylish, and it’s definitely going to be the perfect place for her to log all her dental wins and planetary complaints. Last on the list is Benedict. It’s funny how some people just walk into your life and completely rearrange the furniture in your brain. We met back in the day at a modeling event, two guys just trying to look sharp and nail the catwalk together. At the time, I didn't realize that meeting him would be the start of me finally finding my own skin. I still have this vivid memory of us grabbing lunch together. It was the first time I ever tried Ayam Jatinangor. I don't know if it was the food or just the conversation, but that meal stuck with me. Fast forward to literally just this year, and I finally had my second Ayam Jatinangor ever. It felt like such a full-circle moment, sitting there eating that chicken and thinking about how much has changed since that first lunch. Before I met him, I don’t think I really knew what it felt like to be truly confident. Being around him, navigating that time together, it really built me. He’s the reason I started trusting my own prinsip and setting real boundaries for myself. My character, the way I hold myself now, and that sense of this is who I am, a lot of those bricks were laid back then. I’m keeping the details of our history between the two of us, but his impact is something I’ll always respect. He’s someone who deeply educated me on what it means to be a person of substance. For his journal, I want something that feels intentional and solid. Something that reflects that shift from being a kid who was just there to being someone who actually knows their worth. It’s a way to honor that growth and that first lunch that somehow led to me becoming the version of Ivan I am today.