p i p e d r e a m

hello! it's holiday season here, and I'm writing this from a porch where all you can see are the potted plant. It's August again! my father month. I just wanted to say Happy birthday in advance for him trough this post. (and trough a prayer too, maybe tonight) actually I kinda feel nothing special about birthday, specially mine. I'm finding it not so important whatsoever. I don't know why. Remembering about it is the most thing I can do about my birthday. For me, a birthday present isn't that special. A present for nothing is way more special. like, when someone give you a gift on the one ordinary day for no reason. Back to August. I tune my father songs every year on his birthday. I made playlist content his favorite songs which he always told me to play the moment he saw me turn on my computer. We have this kind of habit to sharing thoughts, what we read on books, latest newspaper issues, people and music. Including the singer, lyric, and all. We share like, e...

how my life in 10 years later? when I'm umm about thirty years old. did I success to reach my dream? (as if I have one) or married to the so-called love of my life? or maybe still single? Am I living the peaceful life or the hectic one? or maybe, am I living until thirty or got a killed accident by my twenty-nine? Am I ever forgive myself for certain mistake I did in my past? Am I living a regretful live as I just siting by window wondering what I was and wasn't supposed to do? Am I still live in my old childhood house or got myself an apartment far away from hometown, or maybe a loft and three roommates just like Jessica day? Am I still here in my country or not? Who will be there with me until the end? are they my close families? or some of my good friends? or maybe someone who I haven't met yet? Maybe tomorrow or two days from now, on my way to the bookstore I will bump into a stranger that actually fate with me? just like girls in novel do. or maybe I choose to suicide ...

did you ever had a sleep full of different dreams? I just did and every time it happens, I woke up late. heavy head and hardly open my eyes, with some visual stuck in my head. that how that kind of dreams work to me. So here I am, trying to find an excuse for my absent. That was one evening, when I'm in the middle of a worship with some people I don't even know, in my house. sudden think, I need shoes. so I left the group and walking around the complex to find a place to buy shoes. but at last I just stand in front of my house, bring some snack in a plastic bag arguing if I could come in bringing food or not. From other direction, a girl with her whole family, came into me, she just look at my face, but I can hear her voice 'what are you doing? you can come into your house, but, me? can I come in to your house?' I can't remember her face, but she wear red blouse with patterned scarf around her neck, browned skin. I said yes we can. so we come in together to the peop...

I rarely write these days. a good friend told that maybe because I'm too happy, he also add ''whats wrong with you and the depressive writing?'' I was like, well he got it right. is not like I'm that happy. I just found myself moving forward. I realize that there are view things I must left in my life. the huge one is the bereavement. The bitter point of my life which really drowning me deep. the death and untold stories. When my dad gone, he left me clueless and hurt. That was the first time to me facing coffin with someone close to me inside not to mention the first time being a stupid swollen face main cast at the funeral. through all the tears some disease come along with it. the disease when my heart stop to beat at couple seconds every time I hear words like, hospital, corps, some particular serious illness that has to do with blood and dad. The disease when the noise from ambulance was freaking me out. not even have time to healing, my grandmother follow ...

'If you're going to San Francisco Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair If you're going to San Francisco You're gonna meet some gentle people there' to my father and grandma. there some wishes from me. to your path. both of you. I know it isn't San Fransisco take place. but I hope that was a better place than here. somewhere nice. with nice people and weather, with some flowers too. top of that I'll pray for you. I know, you did that to me. so long. so.. long.

Ada perbedaan dengan kehilangan nyawa dan kehilangan kehidupan. Tidak seperti kehilangan nyawa yang mengakhiri semuanya, setiap kita bisa kehilangan kehidupan bahkan disaat kita masih hidup. kehilangan tanpa pernah merasa kehilangan, tanpa kesadaran. lebih buruk, kehilangan tanpa tau apa yang hilang. tanpa tahu apa yang dimiliki. seperti beberapa orang yang tetap hidup tanpa sadar mereka telah lama mati. kehidupannya. saya sering mendengar kabar seseorang kehilangan nyawanya. setiapp hari tiap detik ribuan jiwa mengalir pergi dari tubuh. hal yang menyakitkan. namun tidak menyedihkan. karena memang seperti itu yang seharusnya terjadi. Sakit kah kecelakaan kah dibunuh kah terbunuh kah semua alasan kepergian nyawa adalah hal yang seharusnya sudah disuratkan. seharusnya lebih sering lagi saya melihat seseorang yang telah kehilangan kehidupannya tanpa kehilangan nyawanya. lebih sederhana, kehilangan makna kehidupannya. hidup tanpa arah hidup tanpa sadar kalau hidup adalah kepemilikan. Sebua...

It's been sooo long! you know, task and college always keep me away from blogging. I'm thinking to write something, so here I am, thinking about sentence to begin with. The news is I got to design an orphanage as this semester task. The good news is my cousin planned to celebrate her seventeen birthday at an orphanage so she invited me and  I got a chance to take a look, to chat and learn. It was amazing. Both the party and the place. Also the people, specially the kids. I got a little goosebumps when thinking how life can be that difficult and complicate for some people. When they forced to think about life at the very young age. How six years old kid can be so mature and well speaking. These kids background stories probably like something you usually read on some of Dicken's novels or 70's black and white movies about life and reality. That was Andrew, a little boy that I said earlier (6 years old, mature and well speaking) I was thinking a lot about this little boy. ...