Broken Ship

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Sweeping Motions.”

Instead of bedroom or computer, I found my mind way messier than the two. I thought it would be just logical to say if your mind is shattered, so is your belongings. Fortunately, my old friend just gave me a visit yesterday so I had to clean up my room. It’s okay now but I don’t think that the same applies to this hive of odd ideas.

There were few masks I had to wear and somehow now I have a lot of them for each different people. I can’t meet anyone without them. I have to look like there is nothing, that my life is steady, my career is going fine, or even my plans are in motion. Now that I have to wear masks everyday, I’m starting to forget how I look like in the first place.

There were piles of papers I needed to read before I could write one or two letters but time was of the essence so I had to decide to put them away for some time. It turned out that some time meant years. They went dusty and forgotten as I had to go another way. Sometimes I wrote and read some of them. While being on it, duty called often and I had to put away my writing and reading aside. Before I knew it, I had forgotten what I had to read or write, or where I had been on that.

After years of planning and doing things too much in parallel, my room became what it had been until the day before yesterday. Papers in every corner, pile of books under mattress, stationery under table, medicine bag hanging around on the wall, suits behind the door, and several letters discovered under layers of clothes in wardrobe. You wouldn’t say that room was tidy, would you?

Now that my room has been cleaned, made up, I have begun to sort everything that has ever been inside this shattered mind. I need to put this one together before it makes my room breaks and becomes broken ship again. Even now, writing is really difficult.


So, The Story Has Been Concluded

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Celebrate Good Times.”

You receive some wonderful, improbable, hoped-for good news. How do you celebrate?

Wonderful? Yes. Improbable? No. Hoped-for good news? No, not really. Is this going to be a good time? I wonder if it is. If then, how should I celebrate? I’m not even sure if I have to.

I have been around collecting stories from one to another. Inviting people over lunch, dinner, or even breakfast to catch their precious memories and uncover their motives behind their action. I visit them with flower and smile to hear their experience over things of both I understand and not. I write my interpretation of their words here, in this very blog, a dark one or so I’m told.

There are several titles I have been writing and reading inside my head. Some of them are written here. This noon I had a call from a friend telling me a story of how one met one’s soulmate, a classic story which I never refuse to hear. I wasn’t being poetic to say something sweet or being mean to say harsh truth. One has decided to end one’s life and give oneself a chance to enter a new phase. I should know better.

Or I shouldn’t.

November 23rd, 2014 was the appointed date. Night was upon me when I decided to start a new title which I haven’t decided yet, until now. I retraced my steps from street to street, from person to person, witnessing one’s anger and curiosity, trapping myself between endless conversation of silent crowd.

The story was started by possessing a spike of certain hormones inside one’s brain. Some people like me would suspect dophamine, obviously. The other might call it a destiny of being human but I doubted it. I was hurrying myself off the train, setting myself out from the station, and climbing the stairs to nearest point. I shouted in whisper calling one’s name, whose had stories of old. After several minutes of standing enjoying the wind, one arrived at the highest level of promised building, carrying backpack and loads of either anger or curiosity. I couldn’t let myself careless.

An hour had passed and it was time to separate myself from imagination once again, embracing reality in which I was bleeding heavily and beaten to the bones. I thought of hearing some of them cracking and causing pain on every joint. I still remember the callsign one’s handed to me, until now. It should be a birthday in which I ought to offer my gratitude and greetings. I didn’t.

Now that the story has been concluded, or is nearly concluded, I need to close the book once again and realize that my time has once again passed. The book has been prepared to enter the shelf. The only thing I need to do is to put a nice, suitable title. I wonder what it would be. Something nice, gracious, simple, and humble just like the main protagonist.

I wonder.

I need A Trolley

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Baggage Check.”

One might need a trolley to carry a backpack and other backpacks. Seriously, so much that even I was surprised when seeing the luggage for two hours flight trip. I, for one, only need one travel bag. Why do you need all those things? I said to someone.

One seemed to be exhausted after the trip as one could not walk freely and enjoy even a moment of one’s journey. Not even one picture one might take during holiday. I am not surprised. How could you expect to bring back some memories if you were bringing so much? I said as I rose up from a chair bringing a carton of coffee.

For a moment, one saw the luggage and one’s stuff inside. Just bring the essential and you’re good to go. You always can ask for help if you need anything small like pen. Why did you even decide to bring a box of pens? One realized, maybe what I was saying was right at some points. One decided to pack lightly and leave some at home.

Time to hit the road again and this time, I’ll save as much as possible spaces on my luggage and bring some new souvenirs. Cheers.

Not later one went on a journey again. That time one left some much trouble at home but at least one might enjoy the trip a little more. One could not afford to regret and ought to feel the trip to the fullest, I thought while waving my hand at observation deck at airport, watching an airplane take off again.


On the Way

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “On the Way.”

sunset, somewhere in Kadipaten.

Going Around and Home

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Journey.”

I can’t say that I have been travelling a lot. The city where I live now is just about approx. 180 kilometers from my hometown if measured by road length. I have been here, in this foreign city for almost seven years since I did my college here and managed to have some works now. Although having been here for seven year, my identification card still shows that I am a citizen of my hometown so I do go back there shoud I have something to do with civil administration matters.

This is the city where I planned to forge myself into better condition, sharpen my dull mind and sense into keen, steady, and fine ones. This is where I set myself a goal: to start experiencing how to live on your own, using your own money, in your own affordable housing plan, at your own pace.

I have been going around for sure, exploring the wonder of this city, getting lost because I have no idea where and how to go, and sometimes trying some new, strange, yet delicious food found.  I grew to learn patience even more. Master Yoda once said,

“Patience you must have my young padawan.”

I really found some good learning materials from him, the Jedi Grandmaster. Patience of being kept at bay to stay on my ground, do what is necessary, and not to get them all and spend your time all at once. To learn how to let go of old passion, desire, and darkening emotions. As the Grandmaster would say,

“Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose.”

I took this in a broad way as I learned that when I have every emotion clouding my mind, only impulsive and risky decision shall I make. Everything has its end and once it ends, some of us decide to carry them in our bag. Overtime, it gets even heavier and stressful. To let go means to ease the burden on our shoulders and thus make us step lighter.

To stay humble, silent, and calm is what this life has tought me to do; to never trust and never betray anyone completely, to acknowlege that there is a contradiction, a paradox in every single detail of matters and it’s up to me to discover and understand all of them.

This struggle has tought me to love without ever hoping being loved back, to give without ever yearning of returning favors, to wish in complete darkness, and to dance under the sunshine, moonlight, or even just street lamps when the day is cloudy.

I found chances to practice how to smile when things get awful; passion meets dead ends; wishes don’t come true; friends take their leave, sometimes permanently. To know that there is time for everything, if you really look for it. To realize that wounds shall heal overtime but scars always leave traces to remember. To see that there are people standing and walking beside you, helping you by pointing out what you’re missing along the way, being your company when you need second, third, or even fourth opinion over breakfast, lunch, or even dinner.

This city offers me a time to redeem, absolve myself from chains of the past but not to completely overlook them. It offers me a time to find my lost, precious memories and regale them once again so I may understand and be able to let them go in peace. It offers me a time to open my eyes and see using outdated lenses and recognize moments using any other sense I have.

This city makes me realize that no matter how long, tiring, mind-consuming, physically-burning, the journey I have walked, when things get too tough, there is home. There is always home where you can rest, regroup, and plan on how to move forward again.

I have mine in just four hours and fair rate from city where I’m living. If you can’t find me anywhere, anytime, you are finding that I am away but I’ll always come back home. Always.

A List: How To Live A Life In Silence

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Satisfaction of a List.”

Here is a list of rules I compiled after several years of living, if I may call it a living.

  1. Do not interfere with people’s business unless they ask you to.
  2. Do not break your promise if you are entrusted with any secret.
  3. Do not let yourself wide open so people may interfere with your affairs.
  4. Do not let anyone say anything about you in public, especially if what they say is true.
  5. Do not say anything about yourself, other people you know or not, at all.
  6. You may say something about other people either you know or not if only situation is direly dangerous to you, other people whom you talk about, national security, or health issue. However, stay in silence is preferable.
  7. Do not ask question in the open, ask your question when you are in private session with whom you want to ask.
  8. Do not mix personal issue with professional matter. If that can’t be helped, leave your current workplace, start somewhere else anew.
  9. Do not say you love something or someone in the open and directly to something or someone you love. Or even better, do not love anything or anyone. Just Do Not.
  10. Do not mingle the dust of angel and demon unless you want to create a being that love to wage an eternal war.

Okay, is this list long enough? I have some rules to follow in life I am living in but I wonder I can write them all in single list.

Good day.

Action & Reaction

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Karma Chameleon.”

Actually, I believe that karma exists, somehow. I picture karma like I imagine Newton’s third principle: action-reaction force. For some reason in which I firmly believe, everything I do today shall give effect on tomorrow, either big or small. So, if science indeed has proven karma is a thing, that alone won’t change anything.

Sometimes I imagine the opposite, if karma doesn’t exists; a universe where a being may do anything freely without considering any influence on its future self. How would people behave? Would they behave still respectfully or just without any thought at all? Would our world stay the same or become even worse since if someone does something wrong about the others, they wouldn’t even care because nothing bad shall come to them since karma doesn’t exist?

Oh well, given a fact that people are sometimes selfish, maybe you have guessed the answer already.