Georgetterox

Maybe you just love the outer side.

But when you’re asked to get into the inner side, you’re not interested of it.

I fought with my parents last week.

I wanted them to go with me to a mall, coz I read in the newspaper that there was a bamboo traditional art festival on the mall.

But my dad wanted to go to an electronic shop, coz he wanted to buy a TV.

I told him to wait for another day if he wanted a TV, coz the festival weren’t always held annually (or probably I wouldn’t notice if there was, coz the event organizer looked stupid enough, didn’t know how to make promotion).

My dad asked why I wanted to see the bamboo festival.

My dad said that if I just wanted to see angklung, he would take me anytime to Saung Mang Udjo on the eastern town. I felt I wanted to throw him a chopstick coz he said that.

Didn’t he know that all I wanted wasn’t seeing people play angklung, but I wanted to see crowd in parties?

Briefly, that day I accompanied my parents to a tv shop.

We went home by bringing a pretty good enough TV, but I wasn’t really enthusiastic coz I’d got my mind in the festival.

I really wanted my dad to accompany me to the festival after we returned from the damn TV shop, but it was already midday and my dad had already been exhausted.

Finally I asked him to be dropped on the mall and I didn’t look at him anymore.

It wasn’t just an angklung show.

I saw people played Sundanese gamelan and Balinese gamelan, mixed with techno and ska, and even jazz.

People came into the crowd ahead the shows, and I must struggle to find a strategic position so I could snapshoot, but it was really a joyful day.

I returned to home for an hour (my house was just 20 minutes driving from the mall) to charge my cellphone’s battery, coz the cell was the only instrument that I got and accidentally the battery was low. I sweated and I smiled, but my face was shining of cheers.

I told my mom that I just came home a minute, then I’d be back to the mall.

My mom asked what kinda show that I was gonna see there. I saw a lazy expression on her face, and I realized that she wasn’t really asking.

So I just answered, “I’m gonna see a bunch of people playing music full of noise.”

I wasn’t kidding, the sound system in the festival was so loud and the techno ethnical music was really enormous.

I returned to the festival with much more ammunition: a stomach with full of homemade food, a cellphone which has been recharged a third, and a pocket camera which guaranteed of battery-saving.

The day had already been late, the music got out louder, the artist performed all out crazier.

I was more confused coz it was getting harder forme to prefer, whether I should join the shaking into that goddamn cool gamelan ska music or I should concentrate in snapshooting.

I came home from the festival late at night, very extremely exhausted, but it was really fun absolutely.

Yesterday, I evaluated the pictures that I got and showed them to my mom.

My mom got astonished coz actually the bamboo festival wasn’t just a people’s parade to play angklung on the stage as she thought before, but it showed a lotta people played angklung on the center plaza of the mall. People played Sundanese ethnical instruments in rock nuance in a pub.

A woman danced jaipong with Samba rhythm arrangements on the background.

Including a band played rap with Balinese rhythm.

My mom said, if only she knew that the show was gonna be like this, she would have joined me into the festival two days ago. I just shat up my mouth coz I didn’t believe her.

I’d asked my dad and my mom yesterday, I’d told them that it was an ethnical music festival.

But they refused to join me and preferred the damn TV. I knew that ethnical music was their favorite.

Then I realized that my parents might just like it coz they loved heard them slightly, but if they’re asked to watch the real show, they wouldn’t always accept it.

It’s like as if you like something coz it looks good, but if the thing comes up to you, you just say no.

As if you love the look of a cheese cake, but if someone offers you to taste it, you refuse it coz you’re afraid the extra-topped cheese will make you sick.

As if you like someone, but if the person wanna get close to you more intimately, you just run far away with no reasons.

Indonesian proverb says that it’s called hangat-hangat tahi ayam. Warm like a chicken sh*t.

Tags: family, festival, music, parents