thoughts on the strip (-)

Forgive me for being a bit too deep lately. I've been multi-directionally inspired. And I can't help but writing it here.

Have you ever noticed, that the only thing written on a tomb is full name and date of birth?
(e.g : John Smith, London, March 21, 1897 - June 25, 1950)

Your riches, the school you went to, noble prizes, who knows you, and whom you're married to, would not be permanently carved in your memorial.

Everything you've done your whole life, would only be summarized by that one little strip between the year you got here, and the year you depart from here.

So think about this, before you close your eyes and sleep tonight:
What do I want to be written about me on my tomb?

For me, this sounds like the ultimate meaningful purpose of life :
"On the day of my funeral, I'd like somebody to mention that Martin Luther King Jr. tried to give his life serving others. That I did try to feed the hungry. That I did try in my life to clothe all to a naked. That I tried to love and serve humanity. And all of the other shallow things will not matter"

-Dr. Rev. Martin Luther King Jr in 1968,the year he was assassinated.

There's gotta be more to life than this, don't you think?

Don't live just to get by.


This sentence was taken from his phenomenal speech 'I have A Dream'.
I am forever changed, Dr.

have your phones ready.

we are hardcore complainers.
from the fact that restrooms at la codefin kemang have no toilet paper dispenser,
top shop dresses still cost 800 thousand rupiahs after jakarta great sale's further reduction,
someone with such a bad acting as manohara could get a hundred million-rupiahs-per-episode deal,
to our childhood upbringing, parents who were never there, expensive university fees, cheating boyfriends, and jw marriott bombings

-- we whine about them all.

like little babies who cry whenever their diapers get soggy
we manifest our discontent and boredom of what our life has brought us.
we take for granted the little things which are to be grateful for.
simply, because we set our eyes on the things we want or we think we should've had.

as I leaned against the austere white walls of the hospital
I watched how my friend, who drank brainwash and heineken with me last saturday
broke down and cried
for his dad has been in comma since this morning.
he's got blood all over his t-shirt
for carrying his dad who fell off the second floor. he stared blankly.

'he has always prepared my favorite breakfast, cheese toast and a cup of tea.
but i often rush to work and leave them cold on the table,' he said holding his tears,
regretting those any given mornings where he could've appreciated his dad a little bit more.

:'(

i grabbed my bag and searched for my red phone.
being thankful for the fact that i could still use it to text and call my parents
who have been striving to provide me with the best everything
even if it means to sacrifice their wants, egos, time, health, and life...

we have never been like the brady bunch or the cosbies, my family.
we only see each other once a month since I was 10.
and i'm too used of living alone that i'd likely to neglect them when they're visiting me.

not eating the cereal she prepared, drinking the vitamins she gave, nor reading the books he left on my bed. those little things i know i could've done, but i didn't want to.

whatever we have, whatever we've been through, whatever we'll go through, let us embrace life as it was, as it is, and as it will be, along with everyone in it.

text, call, ping, comment, buzz, nudge people who really treasure you, today.


je, mom, dad. the time,distance, career, and personal life shouldn't change me. sorry, if they have. i love you.

the devil wears supre *haha

i am an editor. a literacy editor. i correct people's grammar and miss-spelling.
i mark out people's words that i think are unnecessary or 'inappropriate'.
i hurt the writers' ego by correcting their paragraphs and paraphrasing their quotes
just because my bosses trust my knowledge and experience



in one fine afternoon, this literacy bitch got an email
she had least expected.
the long electronic message was full with writings she was familiar with
because they turned out to be her own writings
for Sydney's highest circulating Free Asian lifestyle magazine July issue,
only with correction notes in bold red
criticizing her grammatical errors.

'who on earth would send me such correction notes
only a week after the magazine was published?
who is this bitch?', I frowned.

well, well, well. it turned out to be : a NEW contributor.
yes, someone who has only been a contributor in my Sydney magazine for like 3 months.
and you know what! i also found out that she actually emailed my boss
and proposed to be the new sub-editor
because she 'wanted to help with the magazine's literacy'
'don't take this the wrong way', she added.

'who does she think she is? merriam webster?' I bitched instantly.
'i'm a senior here. i ain't workin under her!'

ehe. *i usually work until 4 a.m, give me a break. i deserve a lil' bitchy moment*

anyways, before i went too far bitching about this newbie, this quote came to mind:
compliment weakens your muscles
rebuke trains them

a slap on my face this quote was.

why do i have to be so insecure about this?
i did make mistakes right? why can't i just take it like a grown up and face it?
thank her for the useful input and just do my best to pay more attention to details?

what's mine will be mine, anyways. i don't have to worry about my boss' trust, right?

so yeah, i text my big boss. apologized for my lack of attention to details. and thanked her for forwarding the newbie's email to me.

we'll see what happens next ;)

barbaric.

ever felt like bashing skinny girls into pieces
shedding the blood of those with braces
tearing their ribs apart with one of the movie Saw's killing machines?

man, i thought of doing them thousand times in the past 3 weeks.
but...
it wouldn't change anything, would it?

in fact, my thousand words of curse and death spells would only show
how broken and fragile my heart is.

at the end of the day, i do realize that

it only takes breathing to get older.
but it takes sacrificing & denying yourself to be mature.
that includes forgiving and moving on.

so let it all be. argh.

cheated hearts gang bang

since may, each one of us, one by one, got our love stories down the drain.
is it us, or is love overrated?