31 Jan 2018 The weather this afternoon felt good that I could actually spend the whole of it by sitting at the laundry room, reading the rest of the book while enjoying the gently brush of the wind. Finally, I made it, my first finished-read book at the end of January 2018. Truthfully saying when I write this review, I’m a noob myself. I only simply enjoy the story; on how the events naturally flow on their own routes and probably ended-up intertwined and end in an unusual way. I simply bought the book because it was Murakami and the other ulter motive of my curiosity of Murakami’s memoir. It was circa Aug 2017 as a late birthday present for myself. I definitely can’t compare this book to the others I have ever read (Kafka on The Shore, Norwegian Wood, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and the others I haven’t finished) since it’s a mere nonfiction. The whole book mostly about himself tied the connection of being both a productive runner and writer. The life lessons are not squared only the struggles of being a writer or a runner; it’s also general to things you want to accomplish. Of course I feel like I really have to go for a run when I read this. But the urge feeling doesn’t only stick to a run, it’s also things I left behind years ago: my life motivation. This book sure has highly-motivated me to do those things I should do in my early 20s. Fav quotation: “Of course it was painful, and there were times when emotionally, I just wanted to chuck it all. But pain seems to be a precondition for this kind of sport. If pain weren’t involved, who in the world would ever go to the trouble of taking part in sports like the triathlon or the marathon, which demand such an investment of time and energy? It’s precisely because of the pain, precisely because we want to overcome that pain, that we can get the feeling, through this process, of really being alive–or at least a partial sense of it. Your quality of experience is based not on standards such as time or ranking, but on finally awakening to an awareness of the fluidity within action itself.” ーpg 171, ln 12. 3.5/5 since probably I have a kind of allergic feeling to memoir. Silly reason, I know. Kinda subjective that I forced myself to read this since it was Murakami but I didn’t regret it. Recommended for those who want to feel highly motivated on doing things especially sports. https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2268053926
Holding hands—or holding the future? Or holding the selfishness, creating they own world. Solitary.
I’d rather to befriend the solitude than face the reality to engage with those people who doesn’t even want me in their world, either being a complement or a substitute. Unlisted.
People say it seems not that hard to me to engage with new people and make friends with them. Well, they just didn’t know what lies behind. “Look at those eyes! They’re rejecting you. They don’t want you. Let’s have another walk. Find another one. Someone who will accept you as a friend, the way you are.” Told these two hemispheres of the upper part organ. My brain.
Then I walked again. I had some miles to get through. Passed million human being. Some others were decent enough to be called as human, some others not. Some others did realise my existence, some others just let it be. Some others welcomed me to their life, some others left those disgusting look to my presence.
I’ve been spending 6787 days here. Still struggling, still got rejected by those eyes. My mother said I’ve always got that social problem since my kindergarten. Still the same, until now. I don’t know, probably the problem is in me, or I am the problem myself. The unwanted persona non grata.
Lundi, 23 Janvier 2017. With all of these broken-hearted feelings, rejected by the society.
I don’t know where I belong to; my parents were newcomers themselves. Mom was born & raised in Tanah Datar, Sumatra Barat while Dad was in Bandung, Jawa Barat himself. They met here & started a life here too. Me? Born and raised here, Banten. Been spending the whole 17 years here.
Years back then, I didn’t really like depicting myself as a Bantenese. Simply because I can’t speak their lingua franca nor understand theirs. That just (the language) was feeling so weird, looked so peasant-ish. Probably because it was majorly spoken by some unscholarly locals. Hehe shame on me, I know. Have no idea why I was acting like this.
Until I started to continue my study in another place. The university was located in somewhere I hardly know, somewhere new and strange to me. At first I didn’t really like to identify myself as a Bantenese since I didn’t even inherit their bloods. To me, Minang was felt more suitable. But what could I do? I wasn’t born there, living there or spend my study there. I only inherited half of Minang & Sundanese blood.
There I was, starting to join their community (let’s say it’s a community for students from Banten at our university), and trying to feel the likeness and unity since we came from the same place. I was trying to involve myself on their events. Like some gatherings and events, even my senior from high school back then involved me to their events.
So, today was my 3rd day “walking” aka roadshow around the town: visiting different schools with different social & financial backgrounds. “Babbling” around.
Well, honestly I am not a fan of doing this roadshow thing. I personally don’t like showing myself off of them, with this bright, yellowish alma mater jacket. I’d rather to stay clandestine, unnoticeable, working behind the stage than being spotted by people. I don’t really like being spotted. Yeah, things weren’t just ended-up being passers-by, they changed the other things too. So were my mind. It was changed. I’ve decided to join in.
We’ve visited some “fortunate” and “unfortunate” schools though they weren’t that plenty. We’ve spent the three days visiting five schools, and two schools by one day, with them alone, at the first day of roadshow.
Our babblings depend on the type of school. Sometimes we have to shorten our babblings, but sometimes we have to explain it a little bit longer because they have no idea what we’re actually talking about or even don’t know what we’re talking about is actually existed. Some students probably don’t know things such SBMPTN & SIMAK do exist (let’s say these two are the Indonesian version of SAT). Some students probably don’t know they can pay zero expenses on their college tuition fees to study at university. They only know the unreachable numbers of expenses they have to pay for the sake of studying at university. And so they choose to find a job and working as young labours to earn some money instead continue their study in university. Some of them really want to study at university but their parents can’t afford those expenses. Some of them don’t have any idea what they’re going to do.
Heartbreaking, indeed. We’re living on the same town but there’s a big gap of life that separates us. That’s only my town. How about the other regions? Bet there are tons of them facing the same problems like these high school students. I hope these students finally get the chance to continue their study at public university. Not just simply giving up their dreams. We definitely can’t simply let our life as it be.
Thank you, Tim Roadshow region Cilegon for these precious, last three days. So much fun. Although I am a newcomer myself from nowhere, it’s definitely our compulsory to change our beloved Banten, Cilegon in particular, to a better one. #RoadshowGakMilihMilih
To break the silence, I tell everything to you.
You subconsciously realise you know everything, all the gesture and your oracle instinct.
You subconsciously realise you have nothing more to say.
All you have to do: wrap your lips in silence, let me babbling right away, fussing the whole thing, the whole world, let myself on my own world.
Fully immersed by my own world.
But you find out myself fully immersed with your own, your whole world.
The whole silence in your tiny world. Silence is everything.
Every millisecond is worth a pleasure.
I enjoy you in silence.
You can hear me bumbling.
And here I am deafening with your silence.
We are subconsciously trapped, letting ourselves incorrigible.
We both are trapped in our incarceration.
17 06 2016
Nearly zero, almost nothing.
I probably don’t exist.
Don’t you ever dare to ask me!
A qui la faute—who’s to blame?
My existence probably nothing in your eyes,
The dust among those autumn leaves,
AM 1:57 04 10 2016
At the end of the day
Calling out every single elephant who can remember
At the top of melancholy hill
The big pile of memories
We put an elephant on a top of it
So it can be the storyteller to the old days
Years already passed when you’re trying to look into another glass and digging
Going deeper and deeper
Through the big pile of memories
Until we find ourselves as memento for our children
At the end of the day
Cilegon 23 07 2016