This story happened just two days ago on my way to campus. Because of my condition right now, i have to take taxi every time i want to go (while usually Mas Bayu take me home after debate practice). It's just a normal day with the casualties: wake up, bath, make up, call for cab, and zap! Off to campus.
"Morning, Sir. Where to go?" said the driver. I replied "Campus please. UNS" while i was busy with my backpack and making myself comfortable inside the taxi (well, if u have to stretch your long leg inside a small cabin then make sure you get the best position). I didn't pay much attention about the driver until i hear his breathing sound. It was heavy and short. It was as if he has an asthma. I stare at him and starting from this point, i feel terribly uncomfortable w trip.
Please meet Mr. Surono (his id card was right in front of me), driver of a private-owned taxi company in Solo.. His hair is a total black but his mustache is as white as Gandalf's. Even that well-colored hair can't hide his age. His face shows wrinkles and other aging signs. He must be at least 60!!!! And HE DRIVES A TAXI!!! "OH MY GOD!! He's too old to drive!!"
Enough for the introduction. He drives uncomfortably indeed, and that certainly increases my adrenalin pressure. Moreover, he's rather impatient and loves to sound horns (every taxi driver does so). 1km away from home, he bought a newspaper from the seller on the street which hardly notice his horns and waves, therefore he muttered something grumpily. Hectically taking it from the seller, he tried to put it under the sun-blocking stuff above his head but somehow it keeps on falling and he lost his patience, ignoring it scattered all over the car. Can't think of any worse.
Jebres railway. Got to stop because a train passing. Here starts the tale. Mr. Surono opened the talk by asking about my study (he thought I'm currently studying in the FIFTH semester while actually i just enterd the campus life for 5 months approximately. And he keeps on saying that my body stature is "longgor" that i can say as "BIG". thank you sir!!).
Mr. Surono: My oldest child, a boy, he was a graduated accountant from UXX (no name allowed!!!). he was graduated one-and-a half year ago. When he's about to graduate, he asked for the graduation fee. 3 million at that time. I'm a poor person, therefore obtaining such amount of money is not easy. So i decided to pawn (menggadaikan) my only motorbike. i got only 2.7 million, and the rate was 5%. To make matter worse, it's returned with problem. I had to bring it to the mechanic. more money spent. Ah, but that doesn't matter for me. For my child, i'll do my best. even though he still can't find a job up to now. So i still have to work to help our family's financial condition. My daughter also works in a factory. Yah, that's how life is. I wish you for a best luck from now on and throughout your life, Mas. Because right now, being a university graduate doesn't guarantee a better living condition.
Can't say a word while he tells his story, and can only reply with "amin insya Allah" after his last sentence.
So there i was in the doorstep of my campus. I paid him, then he left with the first "lecture" i have that day.... And it worth a lot. parent's love, struggles of life, challenges ahead, and many more. I keep on praying to Allah that i will be able to stop working by 40. Or if i want to work, i'll work for my excitement, not for my struggle. Wish all of you so..
Friday, December 25, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Who is weird?
Last night, i was awoken by the sound of a trumpet (it sounds like the one used by Bakpao sellers). Sounds normal?? No if it's at 1.38 am (i DO check the clock in my cellphone). I just wonder who's the person freak enough to make that stupid sound in the middle of the night waking me from my sleep.
Almost exactly 12 hours from that "tweet" tragedy, i left my house for Mbak Vista's boarding house for my debating preparation. Solo was at it's peak of heat and i haven't got a proper sleep the night before. Not to mention that i have a broken palm and a ruptured ligament which limit my movement and bothers me a lot.
Confused with the connection? You'll catch it later on. After i awoke up, i remembered, "Oh, it's 1 Sura night. People are waiting for the buffalo." Here in Solo, there's a tradition where a number of buffalo believed to be the heir of Kyai Slamet (i wonder how this Kyai got a buffalo instead of a cute baby) is paraded around the city in the night of Islamic new year- known as 1 Sura- along with some Keraton's artifacts. People said that the aim is to protect the city and surrounding from disasters, catastrophes, and stuffs like that, to bring the prosperity and wealth (i wonder how many buffalo does American has to be such a prosperous country), and many more. Thousands of people; old, young, child, baby, or even ZYGOTES are there standing in line, flooding the streets waiting to see the buffalo crossing by. Ah, i almost forget to mention the snacks available: Paddle Pop, cakue, cimol, batagor, es camcau, wedang ronde, and maybe bakpao (read the trumpet part if you forget). No pempek seller though i think :p. Just in case you forget about it, this whole crowds and cafeterias take place in the middle of the night. If i'm not mistaken the parade started at 1 am.
I sat on my bed, grabbed my bottle, drank the water till the very last drop and then started questioning: WHY? Come oooon,, such an eating maniac as i do would gladly sacrifice a whole pizza with the very complete topping and addition on it for a good night sleep. But not with them. I bet those people had stayed awake while waiting for the buffalo. Chatting, watching TVs, Facebook-ing and other things related to such kind of social stuffs, and etc. True that it's a yearly parade. True that it's a nice cultural event. But somehow i still can't get it: staying awake the whole night for it. Me personally have never watched that parade. Yes it's not my hobby to watch or participate on parades, but the time makes it less interesting for me to watch it. Even though my bed is no more than 15 meters away from the street.
About 8.15 pm i opened the door of my mom's room, showing my face to say "I'm home". I had just finished my first debate training with my new team-mate preparing for the upcoming IVED. I washed my face, then out of a sudden my brain works and said "Hey dude, you label those people standing next by the road waiting for the buffalo as a freak, while you yourself had just come home after spending your time talking about something which has nothing to do with you, nor your family, nor your society, not even your country (the motion was "That more of NEW York Harvey Milk school should be established"). YOU are by no means a freak too!" Well, i am actually. huahahahaha..
Okay let's combine those two poles apart things. One word to describe them all: joy. People find it's joyful for them to do that while i see it as weird. I find it's highly joyful to have debating practices with all the preparation and post-training things while i can't even describe about what is so fun on it. People stayed awake, chilled out on cold, it's just the price to get the joy. And such price is no match to the satisfaction they get, to the pleasure feeling watching an excited face of their children, and the pride to have seen their culture. Me myself spend some thousands for taxis, printing matters and more, resisting pain and discomfort, sitting in front of my computer for hours doing the research, all for my joy. Just for your information, the very first place i visited after my operation is my campus, and the aim is no other than participating for this IVED selection. Call me crazy, and i don't mind. Each person is crazy in their own terms. One might find something weird but the other find it as a need. Life is not only yours, but also others.
Almost exactly 12 hours from that "tweet" tragedy, i left my house for Mbak Vista's boarding house for my debating preparation. Solo was at it's peak of heat and i haven't got a proper sleep the night before. Not to mention that i have a broken palm and a ruptured ligament which limit my movement and bothers me a lot.
Confused with the connection? You'll catch it later on. After i awoke up, i remembered, "Oh, it's 1 Sura night. People are waiting for the buffalo." Here in Solo, there's a tradition where a number of buffalo believed to be the heir of Kyai Slamet (i wonder how this Kyai got a buffalo instead of a cute baby) is paraded around the city in the night of Islamic new year- known as 1 Sura- along with some Keraton's artifacts. People said that the aim is to protect the city and surrounding from disasters, catastrophes, and stuffs like that, to bring the prosperity and wealth (i wonder how many buffalo does American has to be such a prosperous country), and many more. Thousands of people; old, young, child, baby, or even ZYGOTES are there standing in line, flooding the streets waiting to see the buffalo crossing by. Ah, i almost forget to mention the snacks available: Paddle Pop, cakue, cimol, batagor, es camcau, wedang ronde, and maybe bakpao (read the trumpet part if you forget). No pempek seller though i think :p. Just in case you forget about it, this whole crowds and cafeterias take place in the middle of the night. If i'm not mistaken the parade started at 1 am.
I sat on my bed, grabbed my bottle, drank the water till the very last drop and then started questioning: WHY? Come oooon,, such an eating maniac as i do would gladly sacrifice a whole pizza with the very complete topping and addition on it for a good night sleep. But not with them. I bet those people had stayed awake while waiting for the buffalo. Chatting, watching TVs, Facebook-ing and other things related to such kind of social stuffs, and etc. True that it's a yearly parade. True that it's a nice cultural event. But somehow i still can't get it: staying awake the whole night for it. Me personally have never watched that parade. Yes it's not my hobby to watch or participate on parades, but the time makes it less interesting for me to watch it. Even though my bed is no more than 15 meters away from the street.
About 8.15 pm i opened the door of my mom's room, showing my face to say "I'm home". I had just finished my first debate training with my new team-mate preparing for the upcoming IVED. I washed my face, then out of a sudden my brain works and said "Hey dude, you label those people standing next by the road waiting for the buffalo as a freak, while you yourself had just come home after spending your time talking about something which has nothing to do with you, nor your family, nor your society, not even your country (the motion was "That more of NEW York Harvey Milk school should be established"). YOU are by no means a freak too!" Well, i am actually. huahahahaha..
Okay let's combine those two poles apart things. One word to describe them all: joy. People find it's joyful for them to do that while i see it as weird. I find it's highly joyful to have debating practices with all the preparation and post-training things while i can't even describe about what is so fun on it. People stayed awake, chilled out on cold, it's just the price to get the joy. And such price is no match to the satisfaction they get, to the pleasure feeling watching an excited face of their children, and the pride to have seen their culture. Me myself spend some thousands for taxis, printing matters and more, resisting pain and discomfort, sitting in front of my computer for hours doing the research, all for my joy. Just for your information, the very first place i visited after my operation is my campus, and the aim is no other than participating for this IVED selection. Call me crazy, and i don't mind. Each person is crazy in their own terms. One might find something weird but the other find it as a need. Life is not only yours, but also others.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
An Introduction
Okay.. I am writing the very first words on my personal blog. And it starts with thousands of deleting after a few keyboard push. Before i go any further, please forgive me for the low-quality writing i have since i don't usually write.
I've been interested in blogging and similar writing stuffs for quite a long time actually, but still no real act (the analogy is if you admire a girl for a long time and you don't propose her). If you ask me why (i am sure that none of you do), the answer is just simple: improving writing skill and letting the world know what crosses my mind. So far, i have no problem in expressing my ideas orally and i have no problem in constructing it either. But writing is rather different. Writing force me to think more about what i want to say and the way i say it; unlike debating which mainly focus on an instant idea with a lightning-quick process inside the brain without too much taking account on how the word is constructed as long as the adjudicator catch what you mean. So, it's challenging for me to work my brain, choosing appropriate words, picking idioms, and arranging those things into an enjoyable and both eye and brain friendly material.
Facebook's note is my first small step entering the mute-talking world. Not that much, but it satisfies me to have made some "trashtalks" (quoted from Lady Hitler) published. The temptation of having a personal blog is still there even if i'm not so sure that i'll take a good care of it. Then in a historical day of December 16 (or 17 if it has passed midnight), i signed up for a Google account and decided to create a blog. It's quiet funny though that i need almost half a day just to find the "CONTINUE" button in the "second step" page of blog-making because my browser is a weirdo. It hides that button!!! So after a short this-and-that stuff, here i am in the Blogger world :D!! “thinkertalks” was born :D. Oh, not to forget that some people's persuasions also help me making this blog. And their help will not be forgotten ;).
What's next?? Name? Okay, as you wish. "thinkertalks" is my pick. Actually I want to make something arabian-esque, exposing my size (which is rather intimidating), and with a little touch of fun, but it’s not easy to combine those three to make a name. Not wanting to waste too much time just to find a name (and doctrined by Lady Hitler with her quote “Apalah arti sebuah nama?”) then I pick the very first thing in my mind: thinkertalks. Reason? I like to think even for such unthinkable and highly unimportant to be thought, especially about life, human, society, social things and everything related to it. It’s just fun for me. I can find many “hidden treasure” by doing it. And here in this blog I will tell people around the globe the result of it; I’ll “talk” about it.
Finally, the first post should ends. And I decided that it ends here. In this moment of Islamic New Year, I’d like to wish every of you a very best life in this new year. May Allah forgive our past and guide us to the better future. Amen. Keep smiling everyone =)
PS: Just now i know that writing is not as easy as speaking. And blogging is not merely writing stuffs.
I've been interested in blogging and similar writing stuffs for quite a long time actually, but still no real act (the analogy is if you admire a girl for a long time and you don't propose her). If you ask me why (i am sure that none of you do), the answer is just simple: improving writing skill and letting the world know what crosses my mind. So far, i have no problem in expressing my ideas orally and i have no problem in constructing it either. But writing is rather different. Writing force me to think more about what i want to say and the way i say it; unlike debating which mainly focus on an instant idea with a lightning-quick process inside the brain without too much taking account on how the word is constructed as long as the adjudicator catch what you mean. So, it's challenging for me to work my brain, choosing appropriate words, picking idioms, and arranging those things into an enjoyable and both eye and brain friendly material.
Facebook's note is my first small step entering the mute-talking world. Not that much, but it satisfies me to have made some "trashtalks" (quoted from Lady Hitler) published. The temptation of having a personal blog is still there even if i'm not so sure that i'll take a good care of it. Then in a historical day of December 16 (or 17 if it has passed midnight), i signed up for a Google account and decided to create a blog. It's quiet funny though that i need almost half a day just to find the "CONTINUE" button in the "second step" page of blog-making because my browser is a weirdo. It hides that button!!! So after a short this-and-that stuff, here i am in the Blogger world :D!! “thinkertalks” was born :D. Oh, not to forget that some people's persuasions also help me making this blog. And their help will not be forgotten ;).
What's next?? Name? Okay, as you wish. "thinkertalks" is my pick. Actually I want to make something arabian-esque, exposing my size (which is rather intimidating), and with a little touch of fun, but it’s not easy to combine those three to make a name. Not wanting to waste too much time just to find a name (and doctrined by Lady Hitler with her quote “Apalah arti sebuah nama?”) then I pick the very first thing in my mind: thinkertalks. Reason? I like to think even for such unthinkable and highly unimportant to be thought, especially about life, human, society, social things and everything related to it. It’s just fun for me. I can find many “hidden treasure” by doing it. And here in this blog I will tell people around the globe the result of it; I’ll “talk” about it.
Finally, the first post should ends. And I decided that it ends here. In this moment of Islamic New Year, I’d like to wish every of you a very best life in this new year. May Allah forgive our past and guide us to the better future. Amen. Keep smiling everyone =)
PS: Just now i know that writing is not as easy as speaking. And blogging is not merely writing stuffs.
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