Breathe. Breathe. Walk. Move.
I arrive home and discover Mom had walked in the rain because we failed to pick up our phone to answer her call for a ride. So how is that supposed to make me feel?
On the one hand it would be egoistic for me to want to die.
On the other this is all such fucking overblown bullshit.
There has got to be a way to fix this bullshit. There has got to be.
Found via Twitter: the Tumblr blog “Discourse on the Otter”. Not ‘the Other’, mind you; ‘the Otter’.
The Writer’s Technique in Thirteen Theses – Walter Benjamin’s timeless advice on writing, 1928.
In other words, don’t be in such a rush to write down that story; let it grow. Jot down notes sure, but don’t be so anxious to publish it to the public before it is ready. [/note to self]
You would begin to remember your loneliness
then you open the Internet
and you forget for a moment….
for a moment….
I miss you.
Even if you think I’ll never be good enough for you.
Because you know how when you can’t have something you just want it even more.
Unless you grow up.
But I am growing up.
Just not into a good, dependable, predictable salary man.
Find love and live in love. I wish you happiness.
Wish me happiness too.
Now that we have Wi-Fi in this house, I’ll only need to set up Mom’s netbook, and she’ll be joining the Internetworked World in no time.
Let’s set that in the agenda for after Church, yes.
Update: I didn’t.
(via Twitter / paulocoelho: Love is a disease no one …)
Ma, ma. Yang marah-marah siapa, yang naikin suara siapa, yang diam siapa, lalu yang merasa dimarah-marahi siapa. -_-“
Trus ngambek deh -_-“
All these over some fucking files that I have prepared to email and is all prepared and is all in her hands. Fucking, fucking bitch.
Yes I’m angry. So is she. But I’m the one sitting passively, she’s the one blowing her fucking lungs out. (A few minutes ago at least.)
And of course, society being the way it is, I’m always the insolent disrespectful, sinner child while she is the wronged, disrespected holy mother. The power games makes me so fucking sick.
Yes, I know this is Indonesia, kids don’t move out of their parents’ home until they’re married even if they’re way past 30 years old, bla-bla-bla.
I gotta get the fuck out of this shithole. Without getting married. Let her die if I leave her fuck all. She’s proved over and over again she can live without me, without us her children, its high-fucking-time we prove we can live without her too.
Update: It’s scary what you write when you feel you can write anything at all…
These emotions are scary and no I definitely don’t want my mom dead. But… but I have got to explore my emotions more. Suppressing them only creates time-bombs. This energy, I can use them for other things….
Today’s daily read from Rick Warren: “We are not responsible for each stray thought that passes our mind, but we are of what we keep there.”
And from somewhere else: “Mind and brain are two words for the same object.” A response to that urban legend: ‘you can’t control the brain but you can control the mind’.
What do I chose to focus on today? On the following days?