Life is like an onion: You peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep. (Carl Sandburg) 1

Yes, that is just true.

We do weep once in a while in our short lifetimes, weeping, crying, hoping for another sweeter life and swearing at our damn too bitter lives. But I definitely am not weeping at all this time.

these things i list for what i like the most from my life:

tidak berdasarkan urutan tertentu.

my house, ada kecoaknya, banyak semut, penuh sesak dengan ibu dan ketiga adik laki2 dan 1 kakak perempuan saya. tapi saya tidak bisa mengelak bahwa saya selalu bisa tidur di kamar saya yang sejuk karena pohon mangga yang kalau berbuah sangat banyak dan manis, pohon belimbing yang  di depan rumah kalau berbuah menjadi berkah bagi tetangga, bisa merekatkan tali silaturahmi dengan, apa itu biasanya disebut, membuat rujak bareng? kalau di depan ia mandek berbuah, di belakang rumah masih ada, yang jika menghasilkan buah lebih besar dan manis karena ibu saya sehabis mencuci daging atau beras untuk dimasak airnya selalu dibuang ke pohon ini.

bersambung yaaaa


wrap yourself around me

i can’t ever

understand why tons of waters were dropped from the undeniably charming grey sky, and after the beauty happened, the stupid rainbow appeared and hurted my boring eyes.

well people think that i’m out of my mind, but i just didnt understand, should i care? should i care of what people think of me? should i take those as an annoying pimple in my beautiful life? should i do what people expect me to? should i be whatever they want me to? should i put up with what i cant bear at all? and if so, please, dear, my dearest god take me away.

i admit that i’m not so smart, or beautiful, or talented, or witty, well call me a looney because that’s just who i am. i cant deny people who tell me slow, or people who laugh at me, well life is hard and i perfectly understand that these people need more to laugh at, and that’s just my luck, also cant deny that i laugh at people, too.

when there is a down there is also an up. some people thought that i am so admirable (haha) that they happily take me to be their friend or, relative. i’m nothing but pleased to hear that, but, this is more to a warning than to an announcement, i’m not that good, i’m just no good for you, at all, seriously. life is easy to predict but then again, this is more of a warning than an advice, dont judge a book by it’s cover! what you think i’m simply not might be what i simply am.

I might look slightly different, then who cares?

the only thing people must consider now is, when I am ugly or freak or something and they feel that my existence being so annoying to them, it is actually their own problem and exactly not mine, because the ones who are seeing me all the time wouldn’t be me, would it? well, that could be me if i mirror, like, the whole time. whatev.
I wrote this when the rain poured heavily noisy and was so sick of life, my life in particular. my life, because my life is everything but a single word, beautiful.

saya ini sok pake bhs ing yak. biarlah biar pada tidak tahu maksudnya,

salam hormat. salam stres. besok udah sekolah lagi.

Fickle Me

I’ve always described my life as a long lonely horribly frightening annoying (and soooo on) empty road. it is not exactly lonely, or empty but sometimes i do think that way. but, i’ve ever heard myself saying ‘life is wonderful’, i do not understand why there is two different and contrast opinions that i laid, and the answer came up to me like a carcrash. I know myself just as well as i know susilo bambang yudhoyono — which is just impossible–which practically means i dont know myself indeed.

have you ever asked to you, yourself, do you know you?

I have, and I am nervously confused to write something like; ‘about me’ on facebook or ‘online bio’ on twitter, or ‘biographical info’ on wordpress or those kind of stuffs.  I dont want to write something that will sound cooler than what i really am. haha. but that’s what happens all the time i try to write those things. i sound or seem cooler than myself.

the only thing i know about me(haha) is that i am not so fond of a little brown or sometimes black living insects, which i cowardly run away from.


one song about it here


Haven’t I written about my driving course? Well this is it.

3 weeks ago precisely, the idea past my mind and I told my mum about it, she agreed and let me join a driving course near my place. It was ‘tulus jaya’ driving course and I have to pay 350.000 in Indonesia currency. The course started at 8 in a sunny Monday. I came like too early—which is unlikely—and waited a quarter of long minutes, till the car arrived.

it was a blue avanza xi in a good shape. I was terrified that I possibly can damage it in any possible way. The inside look of the car is weirdly comfortable and in some way intimidating. The teacher or the instructor or whatever this man was called was not so old—later that I know that he liked to laugh at every mistake, mine or anyone’s. he’s quite good though, and I after 4 classes have finally been very successful in keeping the car’s good shape. Well, I had three companions on my first driving tutorial. First, an old man who liked to talk about almost everything. Second, a middle-aged man, quite friendly. The third was a high school boy who didn’t talk much, wearing glasses and curly-haired. When I drove, the old man kept on telling me to be careful or stuffs. Having done of telling me how to drive right, the old one got his-been-waited-turn, and to my surprise; he wasn’t even much better than me, and for once he blamed the in-a-good-shape-car for his—not  the teacher’s or the car’s—fault.

When his turn was over, I felt something wet on my back. I opened my bag and saw that my bottle of water had been broken or something (I probably had pushed my bag too hard when I drove), pouring all the water in it everywhere, very particularly on the driver seat, but none of the students seemed to feel the almost wet seat(perhaps we were too intense on driving, I didn’t even realize it before). Then I heard some voices, like some Indian music, which sadly happened to be the old man’s ring tone. The ring tone was pathetically loud, didn’t mind his nervous owner, grabbing from one pocket to another to find the noisy mobile. The high school boy next to me shook, I guess he was having a quiet laugh at the ringtone. But after a while hearing that sound, I was sure that it wasn’t at all an Indian music, it was the sounds I am so familiar with. It was padangnese, and I was positive. For your intelligence, I am a true padangnese, so I just got annoyed by the laughing boy.

By the by, I got so much from it.


The Indonesian songs

Indonesia, my beloved one.

Indonesia, where my heart is laid.

Indonesia, the home of the sun.

Indonesia, the land of my fate.

That is what I think about Indonesia indeed. If I think further, it won’t be that much of goodness, though. Well, the point is I am at the present thinking of Indonesia’s music that is widespread all over the country. Some of them are foolishly sold despite the cranky voice and the lack of quality. Lots of them are pretty much popular (dunno why) and I wondered hard why.

I guess I have the answer;

1. The point of great selling is; you sound in.

Use the grammatically slang words and write your lyrics as cheesy as possible.

2. Do not forget our root.

Our ancestors enjoyed dangdut as much as we do now. Make it pop-dangdut then.

3. Be more in.

To be one you need to learn an in language—English. Write your song lyrics in two  languages, it does sound cool.

4. Be the talk.

Have a hot scandalous love affair with pretty girls. In other way, be the gossip!

I guess that’s all.