Archive for February 2015

I currently learned...

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Two weeks ago, I learned that shit happens no matter how good I think of myself, I'll never be as good as I am in my head, and to keep expectations low, and it feels unbelievably good to listen to John Mayer after a heartbreak... and it's okay to cry for once in a while. (it still nudges me a bit until now tho)

A little bit after two weeks ago, I learned that Ed Sheeran's "what didn't kill me, it never made me stronger at all" talk was true. I was walking through the five stages of grief, but even until now I think I'll never get past the fifth stage. I also learned about acceptance.

Today I learned that it feels good being fit in, to belong and to be accepted by a group --something I rarely feel--. I also learned that at times, silence is gold.

While I'm typing this post, I learn that the most important things are not taught in class. The class for this kind of thing is way up at the whole new level -- it is the life itself.

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Hello.

I love my (practically) 12-credits classmates. They are awesome. We hit it really well last semester with a lousy lecturer, we'll do it even cooler with our lecturers now that are so cool in their own way.

Meet my 1st English lecturer, let's call him Mr. Punk (God I feel horrible having to censor his name in such manner). He is from FE and he is so chill, so delicate, so patient, he never directly tells students when they are wrong, he'll ask for their opinion on their answer, then discusses it with the class and decides the correct answer. He teaches things step by step and I think that is really helping for the slower kids. I think he is in his mid 40s or early 50s.

...and then we have Mr Punk's partner, let's call him Mr. Ronald. He is also from FE and even more chill than Mr Punk already is. He is younger, probably in late 30s, and that's why he is more gaul to us the kids. He freaking told and encouraged his daughter to go to Taylor Swift's concert eventhough she was not a fan! He even bought the ticket for her cousin too. Oh God, the things I'd do to be her cousin. He watches serials too, like Scandal and Sherlock and other things.

Last, we have my 6 credits lecturer. I'd rather not mentioning his name here. In other faculties, he teaches English, but in mine, he doesn't. He earned my respect for him when he entered the class for the first time and talked about his experiences and his objectives. Some of my friends don't like him, but he still has my respect. I hope it won't change throughout this long semester. He is pretty gaul too, my friend told me that her friend who is being taught in English by him had a listening session by listening to Taylor Swift's "Blank Space" and had to write the lyrics! (Heck what's the thing between lecturers and Taylor huh)

Anyway for any of you (I bet none) who is wondering why I don't do titles, this is why: I don't. My post is way too random to fathom into one nice tagline.

+2

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Had a laugh this morning in the class.

We had a deal with the lecturers that whoever come later than 20 mins will be considered absent, including the lecturers.

Today, we'd passed the 20 mins agreement and no lecturer came in, and a classmate who had previously waited outside came in with glory expression stamped on his face, let's just call him R.

He first put his bag on the lecturer's desk and acted like a lecturer that just came in, resulting in my first laugh. Then he walked to the available seats and put his bag down. The head of class (call him Z) made this conversation

Z: eh udah ada orang itu
R: bodo amaat
Z: *whispering* senior itu bego...
R: *looked around* *moved his bag*

Laughters erupted from the whole class.

SORRY

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Freaking hell I edited a bit of my long ago post and Blogspot updated it as a new post gaaaaaaahhhhh it ruins my eyes!! I'm quite embarrassed with that post and Blogspot encouragingly telling me not to be.

Yeah, just a warning guys

HFA.

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Bukan. Hari ini dan tanggal ini gue tidak merayakan apa yang orang sebut dengan HFA atau Happy Failed-Anniversary. Sebenernya gue juga gak tau siapa tuh yang bikin itu istilah. Mungkin orang yang menciptakan istilah itu (kita singkat saja dengan OYMII) saat itu sedang galau klimaks dan akhirnya entah dapet wangsit dari mana bikin istilah begituan. Karena dari kata 'Anniversary' aja udah salah. Tiap bulan di tanggal tertentu, timeline gue sedikit banyak diisi sama orang2 yang ngucapin "Happy Anniversary ya!" ke temennya. Yup, b-u-l-a-n. Anniversary= perayaan tahunan. Kalo mau ngucapin perayaan bulanan, it should 'be Mensiversary' kalo kata @FaktanyaAdalah.


Yang lucunya lagi (menurut gue), beberapa orang mengucapkan "HFA ya" ke sang mantan yang bersangkutan. Sebenernya..... apa sih maksud (biasanya cewek) yang ngucapin itu?

-Apa kita pengen ngingetin mereka kalo we used to be their everything that filled their world, their heart, their days? And so they were?

-Mungkin kita ingin memberi 'sinyal' kalo sebenernya mereka masih menjadi hal-hal yang dulu? Every single little thing that has a super little connection with him makes you remember things you're not supposed to remember?

Kadang suka kasian aja sama orang (biasanya cewek)(lagi) yang masih nempel sama satu cowok-yang-udah-punya-72829439573628494-cewek yang PERNAH ada dalam hidupnya. There are 6 billion people (Tumblr says so) and you're stuck with a guy? A GUY? Oh crap, please. You're wasting time on him. You should've been happy now with somebody else if you weren't still in love with him. Just saying.

Ngerjain Bahasa Inggris dulu ah.

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As you know, there are 5 stages in grief.
Right now I am in the fuck this shit phase so I don't really know where to categorize myself.
So just let met tell you a story now


I, with my mother, just went to a clinic not far from my home to accompany my sister who wanted to get rid of her molar. That was my first time went to the clinic and I was quite surprised, the clinic operated 24/7, it wasn't so big but the rooms were air-conditioned, the waiting space was nice, and adding extra element to my surprise was the fact that it served to the people who had BPJS (health insurance from govt). My first assumption was whoever built and managed this clinic must be one hell of a rich man (this hasn't been confirmed nor denied 'til now).

It was a bit crowded when I got there, probably the timing. My sister went to the dental room, and I fell in love with the ambience. The walls were painted in soft pink, and the hotseat (ok sorry HAHA you know the seat that has the lamp and the faucet and the cup and the table) had dark pink on the head rest and so was the back rest of the dentist chair. The doctor was quite young, but not so young, probably still mid-20 --and here is the nice part-- she fucking wore a pair of fucking Wrangler jeans! Now that's the kind of doctor I can rely my taste on. Probably she had enough with all the celana bahan she had to wear during the college days. She was nice to my sister too, not the evil kind of doctor. Me gusta.

With all the quick and satisfying service, all my mom had to pay was IDR 70.000, even the general medication (not with specified doctors) would cost even less, around IDR 40.000. I regained hope in humanity seeing the clinic, people even would prefer to go there than to govt's Puskesmas.

--
Anw I still want to cry myself to sleep again everytime I remember how everything crumbled down so effortlessly. How do I convince myself things are gonna be okay?
I had planned everything to details for the next many years and with this happened, my plan was ruined too. This is not okay.

Pre-Disappointment

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How do you properly hate someone who is naturally charmingly intimidating that without doing anything, makes your brain neurons unable to form proper words?


I sometimes hate me.
I may just get used to rejections.
But I'll never get used to what I feel afterward.

--

Do you know the feeling when you just want to let all the feelings out and cry without a care in the world?
This is the very moment when I feel the very exact thing.
But I have no one to sit beside me while I am busy sniffing on the tissues.
I guess I should just manifest this into something more, um, immortal.
So I write.

I just don't know what to feel every time I go the canteen and look up at the room of my shattered dream and not being able to go in there without feeling awkward and left out.
God, I sound so exaggerating, don't I?

I know. I am sorry.

--

He asked me if I'd ever gone through the lowest phase in my life.
I realized my answer was nothing compared to this.
I can say this is the lowest point I've ever reached in my whole life.