forgetful me

Sometimes, it is simply miserable to forget something.
Your boss asked you some files' whereabouts (and some fairy took them away when you didn't notive), you misplaced your glasses (which made you take another pair of glasses looking for them), you called your spouse by a name you must never mention again in your whole life (with her), (all of a sudden) your domestic partner asked you to book a fancy place to have candle lit dinner for just two of you (to commemorate anniversary that fell one day ahead which you did not remember), etc.etc.

On the other hand, being forgetfull makes your life easier.
You can just forget what to expect from those incumbent politicians who gave empty promises, forget about things that kept you awake all night, free from what made you sad. For me, forgetting things sometimes happen simply by tell it to others.

I am free, free like a bird, no, like a driver in a heavenly spacious empty toll road in Jakarta.

I am re-reading this old novel, Papillon it's the title. This second time reading enables me to find true "beauty" and details that I might certainly have missed during my first reading which took place more than ten years ago. Those things include, but not limited to : Papi's love to his father, friends, and freedom; love scene between Papi and his two indian wives; and his collections of pearl from his Goajira Indian wives. Remaining details will be presented to you, dear browser, next time I finish the book, so bear with me.

I won't talk about the book, though. Rather, it is my poor attempt to bridge your attention to the main subject, pearl. This is another story.

Once upon a time, there was an ego. In his charge were several pearls, more than one. All was clean, bright, priceless. No human eyes would ever turn away from each one them, for, surely, they would take time, even one glimpse, to steal a few good look at them. The ego made full use of them to attract any attention left in the world to him, every day and every night. No wonder, people around the ego aknowledged the very existance of this ego along with the pearls. The ego, formerly known as the Ego, eventually melted with the pearls. Then, there was no such thing as the ego, but rather The Ego AND Pearls. Or, so thus the world around saw at them.

For the ego, pearls were under his charge. People would marvel at them, coveted for them, or even praise him for them. He was in charge, but could he maintain their values?

great expectation

Being a boy trapped in a not so big mature body, sometimes my boyhood manner prevails, not in a right moment, i should add.

Before taking a long trip, overseas or even interisland is enough to avoid me taking a good night sleep, as the coming journey and all its thrill and excitement excites me even before the journed is begun.

Last night I found out that the foamy-shower-liquid soap that belongs to my children was empty and my liquid soap was yet to be refilled to its container. I decided to empty my soap to the container, the container that belonged to my children. What a device! You know what when i tested to dispense the liquid once I refill it, it turned out to be foamy!!! Wow... I expect that this morning I would take a bath with foamy soap instead of boring liquid soap. I was thinking about it last night. I look forward to take a bath first thing.

Ah.. too bad. The liquid stayed liquid as I press the tube. It did not turn out to be foam.... what a wait....

Life's like that

Financial problem, seems that my Fort Knox was robbed by alien invisible armies.
Parental problem, the eldest child got sick, again. She insists that she got no problem at her school, yet I suspect that something there makes her uncomfortable.
Physical problem, something wrong with my head nowadays: migraine knocks more frequently. Not enough time opportunity to vent off my energy via sport or "something else"
Career problem, sitting on the same spot for seven damn years despite one single upgrading??? cmon...
Domestic problem, I am keeping it for a time being.

She cried her tears out

Running out from her pick up car from school, she hurried into the house and cried, loudly. She could not bear it. Her friends mocked her and laughed at her as she wore torn pair of shoes.

Back in the morning those shoes were just fine, at least they looked so. Seems that ages inside shoe box without human touch made them weak. I remember her smiling while putting them on. "Papa, I am wearing 'new shoes', don't you like them?" Why, yes, of course. Yes, I always like it to see my daughters smiling. The shoes were given by her aunt, they were used ones but still looked good and strong when we received them. Alas, her feet were way to small for them so we decided to put them back in box and wait until they fit.

Finally, a big day for the shoes and her. A night before, she told me that she would wear them to school. Asked whether her previous shoes were not good anymore, her answered were negative. She liked them still but wanted to try the "new" ones. I saw her off to school, running as usual, smiling as usual, with "new" shoes on her small feet.

As I was chewing the last bite of omelette I fixed myself last night, her grandmother told us about what happened earlier. About her running in tears. Suddenly, I sensed that the omelette felt hard and tasteless. It was hard to chew it, not to mention to swallow it afterward, it was harder. So, my daughter was crying, there was no smile in her face sometime in the afternoon. Quckly, I finished my meal without enjoying it anymore. Leaving the people in dining room and rushed to her room. She was with her youngest sister, the baby was sleeping and she was smiling seeing me entering the room.

"Tell your friends not to laugh at you anymore, or I will make them forget how to laugh"

I held her, I was crying inside.