yume-oi neko
Watching a kite flying in one sunny noon's sky,
I remember the time I flew a kite a boy lent me
one late afternoon when I was little.
As I grinned at that freely-gliding kite,
it felt like I never wanted to give its string back to the boy who stood beside me.
"Fly higher, Kite! Don't you fall off just yet!" so I thought.
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helplessly romantic
yume-oi neko
"The day will come
When my body no longer exists
But in the lines of this poem
I will never let you be alone

The day will come
When my voice is no longer heard
But within the words of this poem
I will continue to watch over you

The day will come
When my dreams are no longer known
But in the spaces found in the letters of this poem
I will never tired of looking for you"

— Sapardi Djoko Damono

yume-oi neko
Personality Disorder Test Results
Paranoid |||||| 26%
Schizoid |||||||||| 38%
Schizotypal |||||||||||||| 54%
Antisocial |||||||||||| 50%
Borderline |||||| 22%
Histrionic |||||| 30%
Narcissistic |||||||||||| 46%
Avoidant |||||| 22%
Dependent |||||||||| 38%
Obsessive-Compulsive |||||||||| 34%
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"Happy blessed-day to me..."
yume-oi neko
"And Salam (peace) be upon me the day I was born, and the day I die, and the day I shall be raised alive!"
(QS Maryam:33)

my first meme... not.
yume-oi neko
OK, I modified this one a lot bit... I only took the rules but made all of the phases by myself, to serve as a kind of both my personal past reminiscences and future premonitions (so it may not that applicable to everyone), heheh! You see, I'm still in the "Thesis On The Make" phase now and I just wonder what kinda graduation the song [Sunday] reflects... A relieving one, at last? I hope so (amen -_-)...



Here's how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie!

And these are mine:
Opening Credits: Powerless (Say What You Want) - Nelly Furtado
Birth: Why - Ayaka
Early Childhood: Sabaku no Hana - Spitz
First Day at School: Namida - Spitz
Making Friends and Fighting with Some: Separated - Usher (can't imagine I'd say "I'm sorry we didn't make it," to a friend I slapped XDD)
Entering Teenage Years: Mune ni Saita Kiiroi Hana - Spitz
First Love: Wake Me Up When September Ends - Greenday
Hanging Out with Friends: SUNOO SUMAIRU - BUMP OF CHICKEN (ah, I've always loved the snowball battle scene... :3)
Falling for a Love at the First Sight: Picture Perfect - Monkey Majik + M-flo
Prom: Gadis Kecil - Sapardi Djoko Damono (it's a musicalization of Mr Sapardi's poem, which, if translated into English, entitled "Little GIrl")
Moving from Parents' House: 24 - Maaya Sakamoto
Living the College Life: Guruku - AFI Junior (stunningly matched... The title means "My Teacher" in English)
Broken-Hearted from a One-Sided Love: HIROMI - Jun Shibata
Thesis on the Make: nazonazo - RADWIMPS (and my thesis is just like a riddle [nazonazo]... @_@)
Graduation: Sunday - The Babystars
Leaving for a Journey: Buruh Tani - ??? (I don't know who sing this, but it's like one of the anthems for student activists, roughly means "Farm Workers" in English)
Life on the Road: Ougon no Tsuki - Shikao Suga
Newly-Found Love: ika - BUMP OF CHICKEN (what, will I be an object of a guy's perverted thoughts? DX I wanna be the subject! XD)
Passing the Infatuation Phase and Breakup: Love Love Love - Ken Hirai
Homecoming Flashbacks: Taiyou - BUMP OF CHICKEN
Family Gathering: Bad Day (acoustic) - Daniel Powter
Settling Down: sono Wake o - Asian Kung-fu Generation
Meeting the Soul Mate: Perhaps Love - J & Howl (sounds so sweet... x3 Though I dunno a thing they say (it's a K-Pop))
Wedding: Opening - BUMP OF CHICKEN (yes, it'll be an opening of a new life of mine ^^)
Pregnancy and Birth of the First Child: Flowers in The Window - Travis (another one that matches the mood *likes*)
Family Life: This Light I See - Paku Romi
Reunion: dreams be - Rie fu
Aging: Natsu no Mamono - Mayumi Kojima (a matching song for aged people, I guess... -_-')
Death and Funeral: Waktu yang Tepat untuk Berpisah - Sheila on 7 (roughly translated into "The Right Time to Part" in English)
Ending Credits: 8823 - Spitz

the absurdity of a single heart of mine
yume-oi neko
It felt like my eyes were just shut for a couple of minutes when I faintly heard my voice, singing one verse of Do As Infinity's [Be Free]. It was a call from a friend who frequently does some extreme stuffs with me, then (yes, I record my own voice and use some of them as my cellphone's ringtone and I classify people according to which song resembles what she/he does when we're together). So early... *sigh* When I just decided to get some sleep right after I stayed awake till dawn doing needless thing(s)... *more sighs*
It was Saras, a close junior of mine, asking whether I'd finished my proposal or not to meet our professor that day. Such a rhetoric question. I hadn't, of course. And she hadn't as well, of course. *rolls eyes* She didn't have to call me so early in the morning just to confirm that, for heaven's sake. We're THIS close, even my drowsy brain had known from the second she brought it up that she just wanted to convince herself she had a comrade. She also told me few other things later on, but I didn't even try to remember them. *gets really impatient when half-awake*

I noticed that there was a new text message icon on my standby screen when Saras hung her call. It came shortly before she called, but apparently I was dozing like bull I didn't hear its alert. My eyes got widely opened when I checked from whom it was. o_O WTF?! It was the last guy I fell for (and it was like, almost two years ago already), typing only Lina without even a period or a comma or a dash or a semicolon or anything else. Damn! Why the heck he always untimely contacting me just to ask the most random questions or such ever since I told him that I MIGHT had fell for him? We DID use to be quite close when he hadn't know about my feelings, but our friendship has been dying since then. I even think that I was so stupid to fall for him in the first place. Mere proof of the so-called "conditioned environment" (it's another story), I assume—or maybe it was only an unconscious attempt to repent my previous cruelty towards a guy who had similar patterns of reliance on me (yet another story), it's just that the karma got me this time. I myself would be at loss to explain why did I once like this guy (I mean, was I even thinking? Nah, I guess not! -_-').
However, now that I've moved on (with Fuji-kun XDD), this kinda thing makes me slightly uneasy. Should I ask him why did he text me at 5:50 a.m.? Would it make him think that I still like him "that way", I couldn't stand the urge to reply right away? Like hell yeah! But God, one thing I couldn't stand was my own ego to know that he DID desperately need me! XD And in short, our conversation went rather simple after all. After asking "How are you?" he said he was told by one of our friends that I had a problem with my thesis. I said they should mind their own business (coz like, both of them have graduated for quite long and still jobless), but then I realized how frail these guys nowadays, so I sent my "Sorry if I was too sharp," and asked "How are you?" back right after that. Blah, blah, blah. I wished him success, and he did the same for me. Plain decent courtesy and all—in other words, he just missed me. XD

Well, if it was the only case, I wouldn't end up being absorbed in my long-lost displacement activity (cleanings!) afterwards—I spent at least two hours to consecutively make the bed, sweep and mop the floor, wipe the windows, wash the dishes and the clothes, change the water in the tub and Holiday (my Siamese fighting fish)'s bottle, etc (I even took a bath! XD). And it was all because I've just realized how unstable one's heart could be. Two years ago, I could cry for this pessimist who often made me listen to his stories; but now I'm head over heels for that reassuring optimist who doesn't even know me (a.k.a. Fuji-kun). It's way too absurd. The last time I got this ecstatic for some idol was back in junior high (oh, how I really loved Bob Moffatt back then! XD). But Bob didn't make me believe I should live the way of life that I love like Fuji-kun does; that if I always sing with all my might then I can perform my own music one day, that I must try my best to reach my dreams no matter how unlikely they are now, that there are people and places still waiting for me to meet and visit them. Damn, it'd be too painful if I'll never be able to do those things. DX Is this feeling even real? Maybe it'd be better off for me if I never read any of his lyrics and being carried away this far, so I don't have to reconsider my whole dull life and just turn into a full-fledged adult member of the society already. ;_;
But two years has passed since the last time I vainly shed my tears from a broken heart and my life has been alright, I even kinda glad that I didn't make it. Now I have high aspirations on my life and dare to dream of what I really want to do, much thanks to Fuji-kun's songs. They make me realized that there are still so many ways I can choose even from this point on and that there are still so many precious things I have as my own treasures. I so want to meet Fuji-kun one day to say in person that I'll always thank him for all wonderful stories he shares through his music coz they really mean something to me! Will I make this only dream come true someday? It's a wonder to feel that you're connected in a way with someone whom you've never even met before, right? Ah, I wonder if these overwhelming feelings will eventually end just like all of my past infatuations... ;_;

The Homecoming - Part I: One Lonesome Id ul-Fitr Eve on The Evening Train
yume-oi neko
I finally decided to return for Id ul-Fitr (Muslim religious feast marking the end of the fasting month, Ramadan) yet again this year... I initially told almost everyone who eagerly asked when my leaving would be that I was considering not returning if no one back home actually asked me to. *bitter tone* But two days before the eve my sister-in-law called and asked me (my brother made her to do so) for the sake of "family gathering", so... Okay.

At the train station on that late afternoon two days after, I decided to sit on one of the benches of Platform #5 to wait for the azan (Muslim call to ritual prayer, also used to mark the time to start and to finish the fast)—it was still the last day of Ramadan, after all. I glanced and smiled to a woman on the next bench before I sat and put my bags down. It didn't took her another couple of minutes to try making conversation with me.
She started with casual topics; my destination (it happened to be the same with hers, the goddamn capital), my occasion to go there, what I'd been doing away from there, etc. I said that I'm a student of GMU (it kinda startled her she even responded with "Eh? You are? Quite bright, huh..."—made me thinking if I really look that absentminded) and was heading to the capital to spend Id ul-Fitr at home. I thought it'd only be one brief chat, but somewhere I knew I was wrong when she started to space out and said that it must had been great for me to spend my vacation away in such a festive mood (like hell, yeah! *rolls eyes*)...
She said she went to Yogya (-karta in full, the city on southern coast of Java where I currently live to study at GMU) on account of a bad circumstance—her older brother was struck dead by some underaged dork who didn't even have a license yet (and I just couldn't help not to imagine he rode that bike without a helmet on also) some couple of days before, so she had to help handling the procedures, processions and whatnots. I was speechless to watch her abruptly telling me, a complete stranger who randomly happened to sit next to her, with such teary eyes and faltering voice out of irrepressible pain within. She said she was awfully upset and wanted to rage at the culprit but all at once realized that it'd be in vain, she eventually let her resentment go. It could never bring a lost life back.
What that woman told me kinda pierced me, actually. I've always been slightly more sentimental than usual by the end of Ramadans, anxiously wonder if I ever get to the next Ramadan as some people I once knew would never be able to. Did Mr Firin and Trappy ever think the same way just like me now, on their last Ramadan? I don't know about that. One thing for sure: they didn't know how and when would they die, and neither do I and that weeping woman about ours. The truth is, nobody knows about theirs. Who knew whether we, who'd board on that very train, could make it to our own stopping places safely or not that night?
My thoughts flew even further. What's the use of our yet-unrealized dreams, our yet-unfulfilled promises, our yet-achieved accomplishments, everything we've said or done, to us when our time to die has come? Would I give a damn that I've always wanted to perform my music and marry a man I love and make movies based on my scripts, or that I once said to my mom I'd graduate by the age of 22 and take her to an around-the-world trip, or that I used to have flying colors back in the old school days? When we die, what would be left of us might only a column of obituaries in the local paper, a single sentence or two from the mosque's speakers, or a line of names on "list of victims". What (can) we bring along from this earthly world, then? Nothing. Everything we considered to be hell-damn important when we were still alive would unexpectedly become meaningless to us when we die.

Around 5:30, our train came and we parted. That woman and her husband would be on coach #7, I'd be on #8. In an unnecessary hurry (since our departure would still be at 6:30) that woman had pushed him into, her husband sympathetically asked if I'd be by myself. I was saying yes when she cut in, "It's okay, she's settled in after all," and dragged him into their coach.
Instead of yelling, "WTF? I only told you that I'm the last child and that both my brother and sister are married and settled down already, it's not like my life's gonna be at ease all the way! I'm not even graduated yet and still a clueless brat, for God's sake," which was in my mind, I just smiled at their backs. Did she really think that I was perfectly free from the errors of this fallible life? Did she really think that no one had suffered the same way she had or even worse than that? She must had had a wrong perception of the world around her, so I thought, as I  made my way into the train. Soon aware that my coach was completely empty, I sighed and sank myself onto one of the godforsaken seats. Noticed that the awaited azan had been ascended sometime ago, I broke my fast.

I thanked God for some company I found after I carried out my adjoined salat (the ritual prayer of Muslims, performed five times daily in a set form, some of which are acceptable to be adjoined for people under the circumstances such as long journey wherein it'd be inconvenient to do it as normal)—I didn't really have anything to do with them and they remained anonymous to me, but it was better than to be on my own the whole night (it was nothing but a matter of loneliness; I'm not a scaredy-cat, JFYI). Free and easy as could be thanks to the small number of passengers, I stretched my legs to rest them onto the seat before mine.
The high-spiritedness outside my window as the train made its way through the celebrating towns seemed to be just like those reproduced images we see on TV. We know that the voices and people are real (they're not dummies with ventriloquists), yet we just cannot break into the screen and join the broadcasted show—it's so close we can touch their faces with our fingertips, yet it's the exact distance of space and time that makes us able to do so.
I read my Qur'an, I ate my packed dinner, I drank from my canteen—I was idly wondering what to do next when I noticed these people passing by the aisle. I wondered what kind of things these staffs—the machinist, the conductors, the stewards and stewardesses—do on the train. How many hours a day, how many days a week, how many weeks a month, how many months a year do they spend on the train? What do they think about their job? I wondered if they feel worn-out. I wondered if there ever any significant profit these hawkers—beggars not included, sorry—gain from selling those sundries on the train. How many hours a day, how many days a week, how many weeks a month, how many months a year do they spend on the train? What do they think about their job? I wondered if they feel worn-out. I was thinking if there was someone who felt the same way as I did—that we shouldn't had been here, on this routinely straightforward train, when we should had been enveloped with the warmth of our beloved ones at home. My fellow passengers, train staffs, hawkers, anyone? Some passengers were talking intimately to each other, an unoccupied staff was lighting a cigarette while calling with his cellphone, hawkers were too busy offering their goods—nobody seemed to mind anything.
For I'd realized that I was the only wimpy chicken around, I turned back to my window. In an instant, my eyes caught one of the views I love—lights from the windows of the houses. The sight of those lights had always made me wonder what kind of people who live in that house, that other house besides it, another house over there, and so on. What they were doing, what they were talking about? I hoped those people were safe and sound—that idea had always been an encouragement for myself to continue my own way back home.
I laid my head against the glass of my window and tried to sleep amidst the laughter those passengers were sharing and the smoke of that unoccupied staff's cigarette and the hawkers' shouts. Maybe it's neither a beautiful nor an easy life, maybe it's either an ugly or difficult life, whichever, we're meant to embrace it as it is. Everyone does cry and smile sometimes, but we breathe at all those times. No matter how unsettling the matters we left behind, no matter how unclear the place we head to, we're definitely moving now. I so want to believe that I am actually a part of the world outside my window, I wished, as I lullabied myself with familiar tunes.

People said, "Home is where the heart is," but I'd say, "Heart is where the home is," just in case I could never return from my journey.


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