I stopped counting the days when i end up sitting cross-legged on the big brown sofa, killing some hour in front of the laptop aimlessly, then I would get up and get to work a couple or a few hours later. The cool air crawled out from the closed office door and from the slightly ajar door of other room make me keep my feet off the floor, or curl up in my sleep, or simply try to ignore it by burying myself in my half-forced sleep.
I have not feeling good, yes, a piece of ugly truth.
A Motorbike/motorcycle is one of my solutions, in fact, might be the only solution...which gives a brand new concern. I feel sick to my stomach. And I ain't kidding you when I admit it becomes a nightmare; not only the idea of learning how to ride but but also, and most important, to buy one. It's perfectly clear there's no way I could afford even a used one. This realization surely is one big fine mess.
Last Tuesday was Renata's birthday. My second older sister reminded me of it in the late afternoon, 'I did not remember it either!' she said with a funny tone, 'Anyway, she's still at work. Just wanna ask you to call her, okay?' The cast of dark clouds were randomly scattered around in the sky, the wet asphalt let out a fresh smell I always like. I walked farther to the other end of the office building, hold the phone to my right ear while looked back and smiled at our guests, 'Sure thing, I will call her,' I thanked my not-so-talkative sister and tasked her some more question while kept on watching the sky. It was around 5 pm but the darkness covered the earth. We hang up. The two guests now were talking cheerfully about fake snow and many random things. We were about to leave the office but I guessed I still had enough to make a birthday call to my sister. She was a bit sheepish when she said thanks, 'I'm still at work,' she explained her lack of jokes and strained laughter, 'It's one hour left.' The rain poured down again. I sat on the back seat next to the left door, tried to smile and to follow their conversations.
I haven't spoken with mom in the last two weeks. She might've been caught up with works and all, hearing that she's fine from both of my sisters relieved me, 'she goes to swim on the beach sometimes,' Renata reported.
I was rewinding all the news I got from the phone calls that one of the guests poke me on my shoulder, 'Still there Mr. Silent?' he joked. After gave him a smile and a few lines of responds, they went on with their conversation. There was no significant traffic along the way, my mind drifted off...rested my head on the window, fell a sleep for a while, a good short sleep which slightly gave a pain on my neck.
Along with almost everyone at home, we went off to Becik's wedding last nite. It was the first time I attended a Balinese wedding. What a crowd of teenagers! The swarmed around, taking most of the space, with small paper plate in hands. On my left hand, the paper plate only had one nice green sweet. Plastic chairs, coconut-leaves ornaments, golden-colored fabrics wrapped most of the outdoor area. 'This is considered as a pretty big wed ceremony' Ketut explained to Orlando, who was, at his full interest, watching over the sort-of altar where offerings were stacked.
I looked at a poster size pre-wed photograph on the door in one of the many small buildings, Becik in his ful Balinese wed attire, and white big earrings matching his big sized bride. They smeared his face with thick make-up. The color of his clothes, GASP...I can't wait to see how Komang'll look like on his wedding day in a couple of months.
I had never enjoyed weddings. They typically offered awful singers...this Balinese wed only provided Balinese traditional music which played the same tunes. It was a Snoozefest for me.
'You've gotta find a way to go places independently,' that sentence has been haunting my mind. I am speechless, and the worst of all, I am, indeed, clueless.