Georgetterox

Yes, I understand I’m such a shallow. I shoulda enjoyed that Lord of the Rings, but instead I just fell asleep!

Everybody says that Lord of the Rings rocks. The story, the sound effects, the visual effects, the Orlando Bloom, the Liv Tyler, and so on. From the first time I read the sneak preview far away many years ago, I’ve intended to watch. But when the scene got the premiere on Bandung, and all the people snatching up for the tickets at the cinema, I just shook my head because I got nausea earlier to see the queue ahead the ticket box which competed the snakes making queue for oil. Besides, I have a principle that can’t be forbidden until today: Never watch the movie before you read the novel until the last page. And I never forbid that one, not after the tragedy of Harry Potter the Movie!

And the truth is, the book doesn’t rock that much. The setting is blue, even too grey. I’ve got used to brainwash my head with the blithe-flicking writings of Meg Cabot and the imaginative-hilarious Joanne Rowling’s, so when I read JR Tolkien’s, I fell asleep at the chapter three. I tried to continue, but in the last three years, I haven’t done the book. It sucks. Probably I’m not talented. In fact, the story is fabulous. Even my ex, which popular of picky about movies (he doesn’t wanna watch trivial ones, he just wants sophisticated ones such as Last Samurai until the documentary ones such as G30S PKI), coronating Lord of the Rings as his favorite movie. I tried hard to understand his way of thinking, and his taste, but I failed. This scene is bleak. Not happy. Doesn’t make me laugh from the beginning until the end. In short words, not my taste. I’m sorry.

Probably the problem of the cinema. Weetje, I’ve got insomnia problem that always make me fell asleep at the inappropriate places. Maybe the lighting of the cinemas that always plays dark, make me successful to fall asleep at the back seats (but it doesn’t explain why I awoke up so freshly when I watched Shark Tale).

Well, I’m still disappoint because I don’t love Lord of the Rings. So when the scene was played on tv a few days ago, I tried to sit ahead the tv. I intended to watch the movie and digest it well. But I still failed. I fell asleep so many times, exact at the scene when Elijah Wood met Viggo Mortensen at Butterbur. Weetje, I just woke up when Viggo stood alone with Liv Tyler at the bridge. Why don’t they just kiss each other, they’re just wasting their times. Or was it censored? I don’t even know the name of Liv Tyler at the movie, the thing I just remember, she plays as an elf. By the way, can anybody explain to me what da hell was Cate Blanchett doing there?

If I think more, actually many times I almost had friction with lethal. When I was still a little kid, I ever sunk in a swimming pool until gasping. Then when I was a teenager, same as other teenagers with problems, I have tried suicide. Really! My very-not-glorify intention was forced to end because suddenly a classmate called me on the phone: Vic, is there any homework for tomorrow?

Later, a few years ago I laid in spastic at an hospital because I was poisoned of prawn. Actually the prawn wasn’t guilty, the problem was that I had allergy to prawns, lobsters, crabs, and any other arthropods.

And, today I almost get killed again.

I didn’t know what force me having risk to go home today. Rather than going to French class, I just left my office and hailed an angkot for home. Though it rained so hard unbelievably, I didn’t bring any umbrella cause I’ve left it home, I wore my beautiful shoes, but I just walked across the road until my clothes got sodden. My mood pushed down drasticly, all cheap canteen had ran out of food, and it annoyed me if I had to wait without doing a thing in my office until the rain stop. I hate rain. Rain merely reminds me to my ex, and that is lugbrious. So I preferred return home. Now. Non ten minutes or twenty later, even an hour.

It still rained when the angkot stopped by the road at the front of my house. I waited until it only a few vehicles on the road, then I walked across. From my left, there came a jeep, he made slow down, vaguely I saw the rider’s signal to let me cross first. I nod. Thank you, Sir.

I had reached the road’s shoulder when I realized that it seemed not all riders were that decent.

Suddenly, from the left of the jeep, there raced a motor zig-zagly up at me. Up at me! I got surprised, once I saw the rider wore a dark raincoat, and I remember there was a little kid in raincoat sat ahead of him. The rider rolled, couldn’t define if he tried to avoid me or really wanna crash me. Spontaneously I pushed my chest, without stepping backward a second. My instinct, if I walked back how did I know that no other vehicleds gonna overlap me from my back, either?

But how hard I tried to avoid the zig-zag rider, I still could feel his stupid elbow grazed my arm.

He had just stop five minutes later. He turned around to me, and so did his son. No, not the kid that sit ahead of him. But there’s another kid that he hitchhiked, in raincoat, too. Wacky, how dare he raced zig-zagly on the shouder of the road with bringing two little kids! How if he’d just really bumped me already? Not only he could kill me, but he could’ve just give a bloody view to his two childish kids!

I just stared him, without a goggle. If just a look could kill, so I could do it fine.

Next, I raised my mid-finger to him.

Then, I walked poshly leaving the road to my house, let the rider gapped, istighfar, or even swore.

Poor. That little kid watched a woman raising a mid-finger to his father. It wasn’t a bloody view, but clearly it wouldn’t be forgotten in his mind. There was too much meaning from a mid-finger, and he would be stimulated to explore further until he grew up later. And at that moment, slowly down his mental got ruined. A child with fragile mental only becomes a burden of blues for his parents. And that’s my way to punish his parents, the man who’d just almost killed me because racing zig-zagly at the shoulder of the road in the middle of the rain.

Thank you, Allah, You saved me again. Please help me so I could be more careful in other day. And, please give me some power to stand in Your way.

My eyes are red, my head is dizzy, it feels like I am lack of sleep. How many times I find myself fool, cannot think, and I think I am so slow.

Zuma, damn devil. This shitty game drives me addicted. I had just incidentally no work to do, so I learnt Zuma, the game which we must shoot a stream of balls and reach the score as high as we can. When you pass one round, then you get to the next level. So on. I passed round one, continue to the round two. Passed level one, got to the level two. My finger was getting trained to press the mouse, I keep continuing, and I’m addicted wanna try the next level.

Too much game, I forget myself. Lazy to study, though I must do presentation for my teacher. Lazy to record the patients, though they must be followed up. I lose my concentration at the office, I really want the hours reach the end so I can get home, open my computer and play Zuma. Andwhen I’m playing, I can forget the time and keep playing until I fall asleep. I’ve ever fell aslept at the front of the computer just because I played too much. The next day, I woke up with edema palpebra. And the monitor still turned on.

I know I’m in big trouble. This is a curse, I think. Coz I used to often insult my boyfriend just because he was addicted to games. He said, he couldn’t sleep if he hadn’t passed te game that he was involved in.Even at the night before examination, he still played his game before he studied the whole night.

Aku curhat pada flirtku, bahwa aku kecanduan main game. Flirtku malah mencemooh. I told my flirtee, that I’m addicted to the game. My flirt just insulted me. Because I’m still in level 6. Such a geek! My flirt has reached level 23. I heard him and I felt like I wanted to get faint. Zuma reached level 23!

Even, my flirt said, he’d like to offer me more. I don’t know what kinda game, but it’s something which involved Spongebob. I declined him much. I wanted to stop addicted, but it’s difficult.

So now, I spent more times in the office, even until long after the office hours. What I want is, when I come home, I fall exhausted and asleep, without have a time to play again. It was a good plan, but it failed when one night, I had to report a patient to my boss. I went to her room, I knocked the door and she didn’t answer. Finally I broke through in. I thought she was sleeping, if only I didn’t hear the noise from her computer, that I really knew. Gosh, she was playing Zum! Even my boss was addicted, too!

Help me, I’m addicted!

It was dawn, my maid was shimmering. She concerned to check up all of her stuffs, afraid something’s left. As usual, that’s what we remember about the maids, when they’re coming home, their delivers are always twice of their weights.

Her Daddy picked her up that morning. He left from Jakarta, ride a Kijang that belonged to her uncle. According to my maid, in the group, except her Daddy and her Uncle, there were also the father-in-law of her uncle, the cousin of her Daddy, not mentioned yet the assistant of her Daddy, that all were in the journey from Jakarta picking up their kins who worked in Bandung, for coming home to their homeland in Kebumen. There were eleven people in the car, that actually wasn’t a Kijang, but a pick-up with basin covered with ratch on the back. They really picked up their kins, in a pick-up! No Kijang, pick-up rules!

I just shook my head to see my neaty maid sitting in pressure under the ratch on the basin, with her confused cousins holding their luggages in lap, filled with their salary, dresses, and tape compos. It felt aching to imagine they will sit like that in ten-hours-journey to Kebumen, hoped each of them had Antimo in their bras, and hoped their hands still had enough space to move for grabbing those Antimo at the necessary time. But they didn’t look like they were gonna vomit. They all were look happy coz they were going home.

As I write this, I’m just coming home from the express coming-home-journey along Bandung-Jakarta-Ngawi-Bandung, which all was just reached in four days with a car. Gosh, what’ll you get if you just going home for four days? The holiday things aren’t really good for me this year, coz I must stand-by for the hospital around the holiday, and practically I can’t vacant for too much time. Though my Mom really wanna bend to her mother at Jakarta, and my Dad really wanna make reunion with his cousins at Ngawi. But that’s what it goes, finally I leave home to the homelands of my parents. Note, not just one homeland of both my parents, but both homelands of my parents. And the distance makes 450 kilometres!

Nowadays, the roads aren’t some kinda friendly pathes for the coming-homers. The ground areas that were full of traffic jams. The mischievous bus drivers and the motorcrossers. The sordid resting places, the dirty pump stations, and those unmaintained musolas and mosques. How many people get sick on the streets? How many dies coz of accidents? It’s strange that the coming-homers are getting increased yearly. With the more expensive fees for live, not sorting the intentions to gather with the kins. Whatta hell, though you must ride a but with buying tickets to the brokers. Or crazier, coming home only in motorcycle.

And the truth is, only once in a year, only in feast day, I aware that my family is not just around my parent, om and tantes, and my cousins. Family is around the uncles and aunties of the parents, including their cousins, and the children of them. And we can meet seldomly, even not when somebody gets married or dies. But in feasts, both Lebaran or Christmas, we always fight to get home and gather with the family, though being attached with the solid working schedules. No wonder my Dad dared to drive alone along Bandung-Jakarta-Ngawi-Bandung only in four days. No wonder my maid will press with her ten cousins in a little pick-up just for Lebaran in her village.

It’s true, the family matters. Better die than not gather with the family in holiday. So let’s go home, though for it, we must bear the risk for die, get eaten by the streets.