Category Archives: Non Fiction

My Mother’s 30 Years Old Sewing Machine

My mother was a seamstress since she’s a girl. She works hard to gain money by herself. After she’s married to my dad, she sewed more because my dad had a confection and she loves to help. She just loves to work hard.

Now, both of them has retired, but my mom still sometimes operates the sewing machine to fix our clothes, make pillows, and stuffs. I think it’s just her hobby.

Yes. This 30 years old sewing machine has been a part of our family.

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The Familiar Stranger

It was a very common morning. Anonym woke up at 07.15, gathered some spirit before he could actually get up from the bed and thus really awakened at 07.21. First thing he did was to check on his Blackberry to find if there’s important message sent to him. And after that he went downstair and prepared to take his breakfast, but because that day he had none, he took a glass of oatmeals instead.

The next routine was to take a bath. It was his therapy and therefore always took more time than any other activities he does every weekdays. When it was done, he then went out to work, on foot. It took him approximately 5 minutes to reach the spot where he needed to wait for Bemo (a public transportation originated from India, can bring 8 people, three-wheeled and very shaky). Fortunately, that day he needed not to wait too long, before it consumed 5 minutes, the bemo had arrived sound and safe.

Anonym took his step and entered that ‘everyday’ carrier, yeah, very ‘routine’. Like usual, anonym had his mind flying everywhere all the way to his office. But on that day, an almost fallen tree chucked out his mind-journey—–well, that, or what’s the Bemo driver spoke in that scene.

“Scary how a tree could fall down like that, isn’t it?” asked the driver.

“Yeah, it is,” replied anonym.

It was truly near to the end destination of the bemo (before he took another public transportation named Transjakarta) before the driver asked another question.

“So, how is it? Have you got yourself a job already?” The driver probably didn’t know, but that question deeply moved anonym who in that instant also realized that several months ago, it was the same driver who drove him to his job interview before he got the job he was having now.

“Yes, I have.”

“Oh, that’s great!”

“Not really, what’s great is the fact that you by any chance still able to remember me.”

“That’s not something big, i remember all my passengers. And you’re one of them.”

“That’s just…” anonym couldn’t find the right words to express his excitement when he realized more that the shirt he was wearing was the same as what he wore on that day he had his interview.

“I remember everyone, i remember everyone,” he said again, repetitive. Anonym could see his wrinkled face formed a smile. He is friendly and such a nice man, thought anonymous, and he is only become a Bemo driver? That’s so unfair.

Okay, please stop here.” Anonym knew he had arrived to where he needed to take another ride.

“Yes, thank you,” the driver spoke while taking the money anonym gave him.

“See you again,” said anonym tried to be as warm as possible. And separation must occur.

Then, after that, anonym continued his ‘routine’-which on that day felt more different because of the encounter with the driver. All along the way, the thoughts about the driver couldn’t go away from anonym’s mind. All the ‘how could’, ‘why’, ‘what if’, and stuffs played in that small area in his brain. He remembered how he had just had a quarrel with his brother last night over a stupid problem, about how he regreted over the job he choose, about when the last time he had a conversation with a driver, about why God isn’t fair and let nice people on a lower position and rude people to become bosses, about how irrelevant all of his thoughts and the meeting with the driver was. Yeah, all of them. Even, writing it felt so complicated.

But, though it’s weird, it’s true. And even it seemed trivia, on the other side felt so important.

How many percent of chance you can coincidentally meet someone on your way to work, and he is actually the driver of your public transportation, and you are sitting in the front beside him, you found out that he was the same driver you met several months ago on your way to a job interview, you were wearing the same shirt, he remembered you, and after the work is finished, you went home, took another ride, and you meet the same person and feel connected to him?

Coincidental, or, God is trying to tell you something?

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Agnostist: When People Ask About My Religion

Personally, i find it kind of difficult and awkward if people ask about my religion (speaking of which, isn’t it supposed to be something private?) I don’t mind telling others about my religion, but the problem is when they give ‘those’ responses after i said that i considered myself as an agnostist. I’m not that much agnostic, i must say, i don’t really care about breaking or arguing over the reliability of a religion or stuffs, for me it is just as simple as me-myself find it hard to choose between religions since i believe in some parts of some religions. Yeah, I am that kind of—–agnostist.

Here’s my explanation. First, I believe in reincarnation (Buddha), but i also believe in God and heaven¬†(Christian). Second, I can’t choose from between. Third, I can’t make myself to believe that heaven doesn’t exist or reincarnation doesn’t occur. I believe in both, and that complicates everything. Fourth and last, if i said that i’m a Christian, doesn’t that mean i’m denying my Buddhist’s belief? And if i said that i’m a Buddhist, how am I supposed to think that God doesn’t exist. Well, that’s why,,,

I’m an agnostist. Period.

There, then, that should explain the meaning of my agnosticism (most of people usually misintepret it), because another misleading opinion about my ‘religion’ is when people assosiate agnostism with atheism, when, they’re literally and factually not the same.

Here is the main difference: agnotism refers to the belief that a religion might be not 100% right or the holy books should not be considered as a doctrine while atheism is the disbelief of religion, God, and all aspect relevants to the matter.

“Agnotism believes but not completely, Atheism doesn’t believe, completely, in Supreme God”—-this is my opinion about the basic and most understandable difference between both, as an agnostist.

Now, if you have the right answer for me to reply to people when they are having lunch with me and give out the question, “what’s your religion?” please tell me, because until now i haven’t found the most suitable one.

Should it be:

1. I believe in God, but I don’t have a religion

2. I don’t choose a religion

3. I am 50% Christian & the rest is Buddhist

4. I am agnostist (that’s it, and wait for their response)

5. I won’t answer, it’s a private information!

6. The only thing i can say is, i am not an atheist

By the way, what’s your religion? ūüėõ

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I walk, slower than i used to do. Three steps for six seconds, then sixty will make it thirty. I look at my wrist, as if i am wearing a watch. There, i couldn’t find my comfort timezone anymore. Something is lost, i wonder what is it,¬†but i’m sure it’s not the watch (even though i realize it’s not there). I look at the sky, the sun and the cloud also aren’t there. I shake my head until i see stars. I wish i am wishing, but i am not. I am only¬†drizzling.

Therefore, i managed to let myself accept the reality.

Nothing has lost. The fact only shows that everything is changing. Time has polished each of the flings. North to South, East acrosses West. Couldn’t believe i’ll find the most steady yet firm people have melted down. And that’s why i walk slower.

Understandable, in their most readable ambition. Questionable, in their most inhumane desire. The past reminds me about how i always wanted to be like some of those heels walking on the fragile glass. Cracks that are widening each step it took. The future asks me questions, whether i’ll be able to live the life i wished for, or i’ll just follow and join in the worst community that will guarantee my survival—–that forest of teeth and nails.

In my slow walk,¬†after i make¬†my six hundred and third step, I meet my old self when i’m trying to cross the bridge of lost empathy, i stop myself and examine closer. I changed, better in some aspects, worse in others. Dooh-doooh, still couldn’t believe myself. How can time change all sides of dimension in discreet? Inside, outside, beside,

how can time never changes itself?

Yeah, that’s why i walk¬†slower. I know i’ll¬†be left behind. I know I won’t be able to follow the pace of the competitive world.¬†I¬†know, i always know, but i have my own thought. Sorry, but i’ll choose to walk¬†slower.

If i walk slower, i’ll stay longer, and if people want to find me, they’ll just go back to my last resort and i’ll still be there, right?

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Twenty Second

November 16, 2011

It was my 22nd birthday, and with the authority and my super self-centered ego i’m having, i forced my students (lol, guess if i was kidding or not) to make me some birthday greetings. They were so excited back then. It was fun, and totally¬†unforgettable for me. They’re so lovely, it’s so sad that i must ‘leave’ them by December since i’ve gotten myself a new job—which i hope will suit me well.

So there they are, the small little things i want to keep and remember forever. I hope one day they’ll open this post and that’s why i’m writing this.

“Thanks, little mates, i might act a little or maybe too strict sometimes, but you know, that’s needed to tame monsters, right? Lol. But I know all of you also know that I love you guys so much, don’t you? And yeah, thanks for giving me an opportunity to become a small part in your fun worlds and taught me one or two things about life. I hope one day we’ll meet again.”

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