flap flap flap

Untitled

2010-01-20T22:25:00.000-08:00

There are three types of guys I've been meeting in life.
First type is those who enjoy music, literature and art, and barely know a thing or do sports.
Second type is those who play or/and enjoy sports more than music, literature and art.
And in between is the third and the rarest type.

When I was in high school, I play basketball. It had been the biggest portion of my youth. I've dated basketball boys once or twice. They were tall and sweaty and famous and all. The girls will shout and scream their names, and they will run run run and dunk dunk dunk till full time. Oh wow~ *rolling eyes*

On my 20s, I quit the sports and started to play music with friends. It's not as easy as sports you know. If strength and mental were the main elements of sports, music needs soul. Let’s say they both are contrary. Playing music has widened my horizon and also my circles of friends. I read any kinds of books, and discuss more subjects with friends. I also write a few notes about anything interested around.

Of course I've dated first type guys too. Musicians: a guitarist, a vocalist, drummers and a dancer, writers and thinkers from Marxist till Darwinist, and also a very sensitive poet.
And now I can't help but thinking how the contrary is true.

The first type guys are more sensitive. They collect CDs and mp3s. Arrange them alphabetically, make comments on their cover artworks, and mind about the bit rates. They read books or watch A Rated movies, then make reviews and put them on blog. They photoshop pictures, mind about colors and contrasts. Yadda yadda yadda. At most, the littlest details are important. Yes, they are as sensitive as that, and somehow become ego bastards.

The second type guys are all about power and competition. They jog, they eat well, they work out. They are physically and mentally strong, and forget the fact that it's ok to be weak.

I'm not saying which one is better than other, because obviously they have one thing in common: NARCISSISM. One about power, the other is mind and soul.
Here I'm just worry about the classification, and dying to meet more of the third type, the in-between`s, the ideal. I think these facts are the reasons why girls are so hard to understand men. But let me tell you, girls, DON'T MIND ABOUT THE OUTPUT, AND TRY TO ANALYZE THE INPUT. It's not about who he is, but what makes him himself. I believe that's how you can get better understanding in the future. Start now, and see what happen next.

PS: It’s kinda hard for me to make this note, because I’m trying to avoid you girls think of me as a men expert. I’m just a woman, and happened to be tired of men - the first and second type.
Now I’m with one of the in between, the ideal. Oh, yes, I’m blessed :)

Wish you all best of luck!

Being A Mom

2010-01-18T20:35:00.000-08:00

"do they collide? i asked and u smile"

Mungkin itu arti meong-an Kit pada teman barunya, kucing kampung belang putih kuning kekunyitan. Kita sebut saja dia Kunyil.
Ya, beberapa hari ini mereka semakin sering bertemu pada waktu dan lokasi yang sama setiap harinya.
Kit akan berdiri di atas televisi ber-antena-kan garpu dengan mata berbinar dan senyum funiaw.
Kunyil, yang belum jelas jenis kelaminnya, duduk manis di atas genteng tetangga sebelah.
Terpisahkan oleh kaca jendela, mereka lebih sering diam saling menatap. Saya pun bingung, apakah monolog atau dialog yang mereka lakukan.

Untuk mendramatisir suasana, saya sebagai co-sponsor love meeting mereka kadang hanya bisa memberi dukungan berupa backsound.
Playlist mantap pun saya susun demi romansa dua sejoli ini. A Camp dan Deathcab For Cutie, hingga Seal dan Joni Mitchell.
Dan ketika mereka mengeong tanpa henti, Mariah Carey pun menetralkan suasana penuh unconditional love itu.

Namun saya merasa kejam sesekali dengan kenyataan bahwa mereka akan tetap seperti itu untuk waktu yang lama.
Saya belum mau mengambil resiko membuka jendela itu, membuka lebar kemungkinan mereka untuk bersama, entah untuk semalam saja atau selamanya.
Ya, saya seperti orang tua yang melarang anaknya berpacaran sebelum menikah.
Kit berbeda ras denganmu Kunyil, maka kamu tidak pantas untuknya.
Ya, saya seperti orang tua yang mempermasalahkan perbedaan strata sosial.

Saya pun bisa menjadi konservatif sesekali.

Love Monkey

2009-11-30T02:27:00.000-08:00

Remember how every mature ones always said, "Kid, you don't know anything about love. So don't ACT like a lover."?

I think THEY are the ones who knows nothing about it.
The most shallow lovers are the ones who doubts other lovers.

LOVE MONKEY, that's the legitimate term.
(Why blame it all on monkey?)

For all of you who already watched The Reader, I know you're on my side.

:)

Abnormally Superflous

2009-11-04T03:10:00.000-08:00

Ok, think of things happened around you in the past. Things that direct/indirectly blow just your brain and heart in instant, shake into core, damage the vena cava and the artery.

If you had always been the victim, congratulation, because it's always better to get hurt than to hurt.
If you had always been the cause of the injured, you’re doomed. And for some people, you’re the evil bitch, and you’re going to have to live with that (hopefully not forever).

Well I have lost my sense of right or wrong this time, and I’m sorry.
But I’m never going to say I’m sorry again.

For the others, I know I’m the clown for everyone of you.
I don’t care.

Because,
It’s all about meaning, not weakening.

A Sudoku box is not always 9 x 9 square equals 81 little squares. It may contain hundreds of others if you make a new square from two squares, then three squares, and so on.

It’s all about meaning, and an awakening.

Just like when an apple fall from its tree.
You could take it, eat it, and become full, or
You could find the seed and make a fortune from your own trees and be successful entrepreneur, or even better
You could be a Newton by observing the attraction due to gravitation that the Earth or another astronomical object exerts on that apple on or near its surface.

Yes, it’s all about meaning.
It’s not just about me and him and him and her, the bizarre love triangle.
Go ahead includes other party and make it as a more bizarre love quadrangle.
Again, collects more parties and make it as a most bizarre love multiangle.

No sorry, no more.
No regrets, no more.

Yet I’m here, and I’m not careless.
I’m here, I’m fearless.

Mood Remote

2009-11-04T03:09:00.000-08:00

Thoughts of having someone else's face
Got mugged by hypnotic gaze
Became a broken-hearted plastic barbie
Laughed at things that ain't funny

Get a plastic surgery
Find more money
Boost a new love
Google David Hasselhoff

Listen to pop song instead of death song
Take a dozen of vitamin c rather than aspirin
It's not about who's wrong, but what you've done wrong
Dance dance silly, over Soul Meets Body

Design your own parappappaa
Don't copy his parappappaa
Define your own tralalala
Won't copy her tralalala

Moan, groan, mourn on road
Bawl, roar, pogo on boat
Memorize an anonymous quote
There's no such thing as Mood Remote

Philogagging

2009-11-04T03:05:00.000-08:00

DIMITRI: If Atlas holds up the world, what holds up Atlas?
TASSO: Atlas stands on the back of turtle.
DIMITRI: But what does the turtle stand on?
TASSO: Another turtle.
DIMITRI: And what does that turtle stand on?
TASSO: My dear Dimitri, it's turtles all the way down!

(from Plato and a Platypus Walk into a Bar.. Understanding Philosophy Through Jokes by Thomas Cathcart and Daniel Klein, page 1: an Introduction)

The List of Euphemism for 'stupid'

2009-11-04T02:44:00.000-08:00

A couple of eggs shy of a dozen
A few beers short of a six-pack
Ah say, that boy reminds me of Paul Revere's ride; a little light in the elfry
Forgot to pay his brain bill
Has an IQ of 2, but it takes 3 to grunt
If stupid were a talent, he would be considered gifted
Takes him 1 1/2 hours to watch 60 minutes
All foam, no beer
When your I.Q. rises to 28, sell

Saya sedang tertarik dengan idiom dan eufemism. Dan 'stupid' adalah satu term yang sedang sangat melekat pada saya. Akan sangat menyenangkan jika eufemisme-eufemisme ini yand dilontarkan oleh orang-orang di sekitar saya. Haha.

Enjoy rainy Monday, fellas!

About A Man

2009-09-12T02:03:00.000-07:00

Sat on a supercomfy brown couch, I was all alone. Kopi Tubruk is what I ordered. The coffee shop was full of people. Mostly they were groups of five, maximum 25. Wow. Can't imagine how to collects those people and gather round, unless it's a birthday party or a small wedding with invitations. So does these gentlefolks beside my table.

They were kind of shock seeing me alone in a crowded place. Well, it's not the first time I got those expressions.

I wasn't paying attention to them, instantly focus on my reading. The book was the worst fiction for these past few weeks. The author is Indonesian. She lives in Yogyakarta now, still writing. Based on the introduction page, all the short stories that had been published are mostly influenced by another author. He is a well known author and have had many..mmmm.. can I say, stalkers? No, followers. Hmm, no, let's say fans.

One of her short story (it's also a part of the book I read) was published on a local newspaper once, and a poet stated that there was him in hers. And to comment on that, she said: We both love the same sky, and burned by a twin thunders…

She is positively in love with him.

And according to her, she loves wrong, again and again.

(I prefer no to mention their names. This is a story about me, not them, and absolutely not a book review.)

The more I read the more I realized that the book, the stories, are her. She was really into it. The characters are her. And they all are.... scary. They were all full of love, yet they got killed by it. It got me thinking, if love is that dim and daunting, I'd rather be out of it.

The worst part is, she and the characters are so much like me. Seriously. Without the killer and the wild scents though. But, still, what are the odds of meeting fictional character that's so you? One to billions, right?

All frightening and kind of feel low about myself, I turned around my sight to the next table, when suddenly... there was Him.

Is it? I doubt myself.

The Gola shoes, checked.

The glasses, checked.

The shawl. Oh, that black shawl, so-checked!

The weird designed tee, the best one so far, checked.

It's totally him.

Short introduction, the man of the universe (that's the nick i gave to him) is totally stranger. I don't know him, like, at all. The name, the university he's in, or the place he works, the address he lives in, the email, the networking accounts, NONE.

I've just occasionally bump into him at cafe to cafe. And again, WHAT ARE THE ODDS?

First I met him, it's in a cafe near campus. So, I assumed that he studies at Parahyangan too. At that time, he draws. With pencil! And the way he draws, the tip of his moving hands, so gentle and marshmallowy.

The weird thing about me, I'm always curious about how does universe work. I'm not saying that I'm superstitious, but I tried to read signs sometimes. Not that zodiac signs thingy, but signals, indications, symptoms that say and teasing: THIS WILL BE GOOD, AND THAT WILL BE BAD. YOU GO THIS WAY, NOT THAT WAY.

For example, once in the past I woke up fresh in the morning, suddenly felt like 'I have to go to bookstore today'. So I went to the bookstore, the all time favorite, second hand bookstore at Dago. I entered it, just staring around, and all of a sudden, something magical will knock my head and ear gently,

'Cling~',

And I grabbed ONE of all thousands of book on the shelf. Headed straight home, read the book. And wonderfully, the book changes my life.

Even if you think it's weird, I chose to keep believe in it. And that's exactly what I really felt about the man of the universe. I still can't figure out WHO is he. WHAT element he will be and WHY him. Also WHEN and HOW is he going to affects me and my entire life ahead.

I know that in some part of life, it's better if we stop asking question and just let them happen. But I refuse to be that person. Life is a design, and God is the architect. Universe is the system, and all the materials inside are units that has each of their functions.

For those who believe in Big Bang theory, then all the living and the dead things in the system are all fragments, puzzle pieces of life. So we all are connected to each other somehow, and there has to be some explanation about it.

He kept staring at his notebook. The light of the monitor shined and brought Johnny Depp look into existence. If I were a stalker with a tremendous stalker skill, this spot I'd been sat is the best one.

Reading myself as a fictional character and met the man of the universe at the same time, I would love to call this as a bewildered fortunate moment. Believe me, this doesn't happen very often in life.

But then, now what should I do? What if I meet him again, let's say, soon? He's not easy to approach. He had always been together with his buddies, and I happened to be always alone.

Of course I cannot be all cheesy and just say regular Hi.

The scene I had in mind is,

The set: Coffee Shop

The time: Before sunset

The outfits: Navy tee shouts Geronimo!, the black shawl, ripped light blue jeans, casual slipper for Him.

The v neck navy wool vest/dress and MJ shoes for me.

The soundtracks: Koop

Sketching on a tiny paper, He is all alone and focused. I get excited to meet him again in accident.

I take a deep breath, then walking through him.

Now I sit next to him, look into his eyes, the not-so-beautiful ones, when he smiled.

"Hey", he says.

Remain silent around 4 seconds, and then I ask,

"Who are you?"

He cringes for a while, laughing next, surprisingly better than his eyes,

"I am Superbug, a bacterium that has become resistant to the antibiotics normally used to treat it"

Then he lit a Kretek.

Friday, I'm Out of Love

2009-09-04T05:47:00.000-07:00

Blue boys shirt. It has a pocket on the left. The last button is missing. Missing in action.

The brown short. Ripped on purpose. The fly is always open. It's so important, it has forgotten.

The microphone had become a multifunction headband. It provides u heaven, also hell.

I'm all wrapped in those things, staring the banana leafs outside the window.
It's noon already.

The bass parts are half murdering, as I changed my sight to the main door. I could see the shadow of people's feets walking. And suddenly I miss your feet.
It's ugly for sure.
But it's yours.

Your brusque manner can be somewhat disturbing, but your heart is in the right place.

I miss you, love.
I'm sorry you cannot reach me.
Temporary error signals.
The phone is dead.
Also my state of mind.

What Do I Know?

2009-09-03T03:47:00.000-07:00

00.40 - 01.00,
01.43 - 02.06,
03.17 - end
are the most beautiful parts of a Copeland's song, the softest outrageous moments of today.

10 AM. Eydel, Ekky, Eric left me alone mountain-ing. And here I am, in hunger of.. I don't know. What do I know?

It's oh so bright outside, but somehow i can not manage every little things in mind. I called the fenomena as DANDELIONAID. You know dandelion. A weed with bright yellow flowers on hollow stalks that produce fluffy white seed heads. You have got dandelionaid-ed when something blows you, and suddenly you realized you got lost away. Far away, going where the wind blows.
Yes, got it, but to where? What do I know?

..I've got my life in a suitcase and ready to run run run away..

Cling cling cling, some guy cling-ing, selling I don't know what kind of stuff.

Hey, do you have a suitcase?
No, just a bag full of craps.

Oh, it's a no then.
Hmm, how about a hug?

I don't know. (What do I really know?)

He smiled. Surprisingly, a very nice one.

Why don't you take a walk. Let your feet take you somewhere. Anywhere.
If i go, should I return?

Do you know dandelion? When it blows, the fluffy heads are not lost. They are free. They maybe too light, but each of them have the power to go exactly where they wanted to go.

You KNEW the answer.

GO.

Iru Irawan: Jae and Iru, Our 27th Year Old Dream Version

2009-09-01T02:13:00.000-07:00

JAE

Rambut tidak terlalu gondrong, the best haircut ever.
Financially happy.
Lulus, punya pekerjaan tetap, begitu juga dengan pacar tetap.
Travelling around, dari Batu Karas sampai Amsterdam.

"Si pacar-tetap dibawa travelling gak, Jae?" Iru bertanya.

Pasti atuh, Ru..

I am gonna be oh-so-TAKEN. Si pacar-tetap akan menjadi The It!
Si pacar-tetap: Same passion. Punya art, music and photography sense. Harus se-ordinary mungkin. Not too idealistic, not too arrogant. A good kisser, tentunya.
Mata dan rambut bagus. Killer smile. Smooth skin. Ada sense ke-ibuan. Bisa masak, supaya saya gemuk.

"Ga ribet, ga neko neko, yang simple aja, Ru"

Karakternya kuat.
Dia akan menjadi the most infinity object di mata saya.

"Romantis banget ih, Jae~" Iru sudah mulai terharu.

Heheheh, mari lanjutkan.

Driving Mini Cooper. Warna hitam, rooftop bendera Inggris, seperti milik Ringo Star.

Punya studio foto sendiri. STICK WITH NIKON, FOREVER AND EVER.

"Kamar gelap nya mau dipake apa aja, Jae?. Eehm ehem.."
Kamu juga tau, Ru. Mungkin. Ehehe.

Groove box MC Roland 909 dengan seperangkat alat lainnya untuk bermusik.

"Musik seperti apa, Jae?"
Psychedelic. Electronic. Anything to make you dance, Ru. Hahahaha.

Ketemu Anthony Gonzales (semoga dia masih hidup di umur 27 saya).

Make my parents HAPPY AS HELL.
Papa mama bisa naik haji berdua.

"Kamu gak ikut, Jae?"
Pasti.

Iru dan Jae "AMIIIIINNN..."

I could cook, some simple menus.
David (adik) dan Danish, ponakan paling kecil, akan kebanjiran Action Figures.

Cannes Festival, I'M IN!

Friends with National Geographic people.

Nonton Black Rebel Motorcycle concert bareng si pacar-tetap dan teman-teman.

"Berarti gua ikut dooong. Plus kamu kan sudah kaya edan nih ceritanya. Jadi gua dibayarin doong. Asyiik!" Iru berharap banyak, dan dalam hati mengutuk Jae agar semua mimpinya terkabul.

Punya topeng Daft Punk original, supaya berasa Daft Punk.
Saya jadi si Christo.

"Berarti gua si Thomas nya! Horee..
Kalo mereka Daft Punk, berarti kita Daft Sunk!"
(Sunk = Tenggelam, English)

Mau maintance diri sendiri. Perawatan kulit wajah, BEBAS JERAWAT. Haha.

Pokoknya, umur 27, happy, dan menanti masa depan yang cemerlang. The End.

"Semoga belum mati ya, Jae. Amiiin.."

(Jae pun pulang. Mungkin akan tetap bermimpi di perjalanan ke rumahnya. Dan Iru sendiri, merasa takut untuk bermimpi. Atau terlalu takut untuk sharing mimpi. Come on, 27 tahun sudah terlalu dekat buat Iru. 3 tahun lagi. 3 tahun lagi. 3 tahun lagi.)

IRU

27th year old Jae tampak sangat menarik. I'll be so happy for him.

Singkat saja versi 27 tahun saya:

BBC London. Fall, will be my favorite season. Punya pacar tetap? Semoga.
Lelaki berkebangsaan Indonesia tentunya.
Tetap mendengarkan Folk.
Tetap mengidolakan Ashlee Simpson sebagai guilty pleasure.

Setiap weekend menonton Premier League, dan tetap akan mendukung Manchester United dan Tottenham Hotspur.

Punya florist kecil-kecilan, tepat di depan apartment.
Untuk weekend, akan ada harga spesial. Soalnya saya pikir, Flower could make people happy. Flower will change the world.

Papa Mama will be proud of me and my silly things around.

I'm gonna have a new circle of friends. Akan ada Chandler-ish guys dan Barney-ish guys. Mereka akan do silly jokes. My Chandler-ish guys will be sarcastic, and my Barney-ish guys will be girlcastic. Haha!

Saya pun akan tetap berteman dengan Jae. Dia akan mengunjungi saya sesekali, dan dikenalkan dengan si pacar-tetap.
Begitu juga dengan Ekky, yang saya harap sudah suit up dan bekerja di kedutaan Afrika.
Eydel, akan tetap gay-ish (santai, Del, pakai 'ish' kok), dan sudah menemukan love of his life, still swearing everything around.

Hmm, pada dasarnya, saya tau segala hal akan berubah dengan berjalannya waktu. But somehow, deep in our heart, we don't want everything around changing, and wish that everything could stay the same.
We all are afraid living this life.
Yes, we are.

In Details

2009-08-28T03:59:00.000-07:00

Imagine,

Black coffee in a mug, not just a regular mineral water glass.
Plain secondhand blanket, with an initial letters on the sides.
Interlude of a folk song, just piano guitar and whistles for a bout 6,7 seconds.
An awkward silence on an intriguing conversation, with an intriguing guy of course.
Wind of change.
Full pattern pillow sheet, sits on a comfy couch with a coffee stain on it.
Charlotte Gainsbourg smiles on I'm Not There.

If life has been meaningless for you, you should check in to details, and appreciate more :)

Do They Know That We Know They Know?

2009-08-28T03:56:00.000-07:00

Preface
We met. We shook hands. We smiled.
We went home. We dreamed each other.
We might be fall for each other instantly.

We met again. We were happy.
I was with him. He was with her.
We were holding wet hands.

Me and him, we were ideal match.
Long walking, reading fictions, watching movies,
Laughed, screamed, cursed out loud,
Knowing that all the dreams we had were about to take place.

Them,
I knew none.
They might be as happy as we were.
All I know that they are long lasting.

Comedy
We met again, again and again.
We knew that we fell for each other for so long.

He’s still with her.
I was on my own.
I was a broken hearted with lack of sagacity.
I was a failure, I was a dreamer.
I was a risk taker, willing to be hanged.
I was sorrowful, trying to be joyful.

We met,
The 246th meeting since our first hand shake.
I heart Roma.
He hearts yellow polo.
I was ugly.
He was weary.
I gazed deep into his round eyes.
He caressed deep into my long lost soul.

(Not) Now (But) Soon
Cactus,
Courtesy laughs,
Silas in Magic Car,
Blue collar shirt,
Handmade necklace,
Dreams and shit,
Kit and smell of his poop,
Football updates,
Our fiction figures,
Parachute,
Heels and boots,
Night and day,
Day and night,
Yes man, no man,
Love and all other catastrophes,
Soliloquy and monologue and dialogue,
Posing and capturing,
Arguing and receiving,
Understanding and denying,
Breakfast and lunch and dinner and late night meals,
Secrets and secrets,
More and more secrets.

Complexity will always ruin the pure simplicity,
Yes, we know.
Reality is suspended dreams,
Yes, we understand.
We cannot be together,
Yes, yes, yes,
We know,
We pretend we don’t know.
We pretend we know,
We don’t want to know!

We know that they know we know.
And we couldn’t careless.
We could couldn’t.

Forever Fifty

2009-08-28T03:51:00.000-07:00

Bulan Februari yang lalu, tepatnya ketika Mama saya berulang tahun yang ke-50, saya membeli sebuah buku kumpulan puisi berjudul Forever Fifty karya seorang ibu, Judith Viorst, di salah satu toko buku loak di Bandung. Buku tersebut berisi puisi-puisi yang terbagi dalam tiga chapter: Fifty, Still Fifty dan Forever Fifty. Saya memilih untuk membaca satu puisi sebelum memutuskan untuk membelinya. Puisi pertama dalam chapter Fifty: You Say You Want to Know How Old I Am?

I don’t mind telling my age. I honestly don’t mind telling my age.

But why are you asking?

I don’t pretend I’m still young. I don’t except to be thought of as young.

So why are you asking?

I never lie about age. It’s undignified to lie about age.

But why are you asking?

We’re only as old as we feel. You know we’re only as old as we feel.

So why are you asking?

I’m told I look good for my age. I’m often told I look good for my age.

Now why are you asking?

No, I’m not ashamed of my age. And if you insist, I’ll tell you my age.

You’re what? Still asking?

Dan saya pun tertawa terbahak dan tersadar, I want more.

I want more looks at what it’s like to be (gulp) fifty.

Postmortems, To a Middle-Aged Friend Considering Adultery with a Younger Man, How Can People Want to Bring Children into This Terrible World berturut-turut membuat saya terus terbahak, dan sesekali menitikkan air mata.

“Saya beli ini”, straight to seller.

Setelah membaca keseluruhan isinya, saya hanya terdiam. Memikirkan apa yang Mama sedang lakukan, apa yang sedang ia pikirkan. Apa yang sedang ia khawatirkan. Apa yang sedang ia tertawakan. Apakah ia bahagia di umur 50nya. Apakah ia masih mencintai Papa.

Apakah ia seorang Judith Viorst, si sinis si sarkastik, tertawa dalam tangisannya, menangis dalam tawanya? Apakah realita membunuhnya perlahan? Apakah ia bahagia?

Saya di usia 22 pun menangis, mendoakannya kebahagiaan di usia 50 dan seterusnya.

Saya bimbang, berharap doa saya terkabul.

Saya pun tenang, disertai amin.

HAPPINESS (RECONSIDERED)

Happiness

Is a clean bill of health from the doctor,

And the kids shouldn’t move back home for

more than a year,

And not being audited, overdrawn, in Wilkes-Barre,

in a lawsuit or in traction.

Happiness

Is falling asleep without Valium,

And having two breasts to put in my brassiere,

And not (yet) needing to get my blood pressure lowered,

my eyelids raised or a second opinion.

And on Saturday nights

When my husband and I have rented something with Fred Astaire for the VCR,

And we’re sitting around in our robes discussing

the state of the world, back exercises, our Keoghs,

and whether to fix the transmission or buy a new car,

and we’re eating a pint of rum-raisin ice cream

on the grounds that

Tomorrow we’re starting a diet of fish, fruit and grain,

And my dad’s in Miami dating a very nice widow,

And no one we love is in serious trouble or pain,

And our bringing-up-baby days are far behind us,

But our senior-citizen days have not begun,

It’s not what I called happiness

when I was twenty-one,

But it’s turning out to be

what happiness is.

Piglet Beats All

2009-04-29T05:05:00.000-07:00

The 44th hour, I ended it. The so called 'time-out'.
44 hours of wandering, rethinking, repairing, fake-smiling, fake-laughing, melting and deeper-melting, I didn't get better. Not significantly.

I thought its all about him, and about me.
I thought its all about us.
Apparently, it's all about her.

Her pose.
Her lips.
Her sun glasses.
Her hair.
Her present.
Her past.
Her existence.

(I refuse to describe her with over-valued adjectives. I'm still on denying level)

5 hours before i break the time-out off, I said yes to Pelle, and we went to rumah buku. I paid 50.000 fine (sheep) and a warning from the bookkeeper. Keep doing witty-fake-smile, I turned on to this shelf near cashier when I found a red label yellow cover book. Red label means we could only read it on spot. Maybe the owner bought it in a very high price, or from a far far far away bookstore. Or they just dont want a customer like me rent it and lost it. Or ripped it. Made a coffee stain on it. Or just ate it alive.

It's The Te of Piglet by Benjamin Hoff, a non-sequel of The Tao of Pooh.
Benjamin Hoff trying to teach us Taoism by Piglet's character.
As we all know, Piglet is a pink pig, the very pink and best friend of Pooh and Christopher Robin, besides Tigger, Eeyore and Owl.

In Interjection session (not an Introduction), Benjamin Hoff describes the historical background and the main principle of Taoism. He also compares Taoism with Confusionism, which leads us to understand the difference in feeling between these two concepts.

I only got through few pages till interupted by Pelle, a "let's go home" call.
"wait, i have to make some notes for myself."

Quickly, i wrote a description about Te itselfs, originally translated by Benjamin Hoff from books of Tao he read. I also wrote some conversation between Piglet and him. Dialogues that shows how Piglet as a Very Small Animal reflects the Virtue in Action on Te.

I got home, tired and all.
I ate ayam penyet for dinner while missing him.
I drink coffee for a perfect closure while picturing her on my mind.

I remember the opening of the book,
"i wish..."
"i wish someone notice me.."
"..because, you know, ... most anyone notice Pooh.."

But,
We notice you, Piglet dear.
Even if you are a Very Small Animal.
Even if you lived in a middle of a tree pole in a middle of forest in a middle of nowhere.
I notice you.

Thank you, Piglet.

Shouting Geronimo

2009-04-29T05:03:00.000-07:00

Yes, it all started a week ago. I moved in to this new place, a big space for me only. Someone ditch me for someone else, so i ended up living here alone, i dont know till when.
Its not the best place to live, yet there's a small veggies store around. (Is the veggie fresh? I dont know).
They seem to be a happy small family. The ma the pa and little daughter with rabbits (i cant figure out why they named all the rabbits with their opposites. Choco for the white rabbit. Pinky for the other black rabbit)
The owner of the house is nice to me. He gave me stove to cook. Wow.
The maid of him is a big helper too. She bought me gas and sometimes she visits just to say hi. Wow.
The only problem is the watter supply. I dont wanna tell. Its too disturbing.

My room is in the front, and mostly the window is wide open. The weird thing is, maybe the house had not been rented for so long, people always peeking into my room. Yes, its creepy, yet i make fun of it instead of got scared. Everytime they peek, i said hi, with a big smile on my face.
Most of them smile back and felt guilty a bit.
Haha.

Beside the house there's this security guard. Its always crowded there, with st12 or d' massive backsounds. They seem joyful and all, and i feel save.

My regular guests are Jae, Arif and Erie. Lately Mr. Ikin visits me to take me anywhere i want to go for small fare. God bless him and his lovely wife.

The worst thing is, my monitor hates this place. The moment i moved in, its been yellow yellow and yellow. she get sick of..... whatever her problem is.
Yes, she's getting older, her pentium soul is getting worse. I dont know whether she just loves to live long or she just dont want to leave me alone. She stays on and on. She stills here, helping me get through my papers, make my day with playlist, become a media to communicate with the beloved ones.

There's been many things going on lately. I got tired. I got sick. I got problems to solve. I sometimes don't bath. But, im quite fine. Yes, im fine.
I guess..

Happy Wednesday, everyone!

intro

2009-04-29T04:59:00.000-07:00

here indeed a true lover
what i sing of he suffers
what is joy to me to him is pain
surely love is wonderful
more to him than to me