Mom was super furious of the facts that I:
- …woke up late so I skipped fasting today. I’ve promised her last night. Sighs.
- …haven’t shown any progress with my skripsi. Not to mention that I didn’t do anything last week
- …prioritize my job over my studies.
I understand. She has rights to get all mad to me. I’m the one who messed up. Sighs.
My time management always messes up. Especially if I don’t write down my daily schedule. It’s really hard for me to stick to my plan inside my head. I need to write it down.
And then, regarding my emotional control.
I like working at night. I’m pretty much a night owl. But then again, when the night comes, I’d become super emotional and I’d be super sensitive and then I can’t work because I’d busy crying my heart out and then get tired and then I’d just stare at nothing blankly.
That’s why: time management.
Maybe I need to manage my daily schedule like this:
- 08.00 – 12.00 AM: skripsi
- 01.00 – 05.00 PM: menjahit, or any physical jobs that doesn’t need much thinking
- 08.00 – 12.00 PM: writing stories because I need me being super sensitive
But then again, I don’t know if I could stick to that plan. It sounds ridiculously… make sense for me.
Is he really dead? I often question myself.
Been living away from your parent(s) for about five years might’ve caused confusion. There would be days when Dad didn’t call me. And those were the days before he passed away.
Sometimes I think he is alive. He would be working out of the town as always, he weren’t home as always, so when I come home and he wasn’t there, I wouldn’t be surprised.
But then I remember, he’d never done that. He would come home when I come home, or he would ask me to fly to Banjarmasin and then we would meet up in his work place before we went home in East Kalimantan.
But then again, it wouldn’t happen anymore.
February was the last time I saw him eyes to eyes, alive and breathing. When I arrived at the ICU back on April 17th, I couldn’t get in to the Icu. And when I come to the ICU tomorrow morning, he was lying on the bed, eyes were closed, and his breath was shallow. He was helpless. Later that day, the doctor put ventilator in him and he went to his first cardiac arrest.
Crabby patty, my hands are trembling. I cried few minutes ago so this is not going to be very funny if I cry again.
Oh, January 26th. It’s coming soon. My birthday, also the first day I saw him lying on the bed home with oxygen tank next to him. My birthday has never been special, and I think starting next year, it would become a not-so-good reminder of Dad’s condition.
I think I’m in the middle of this situation where I think that my life is—I am a mess. I’m already in my sixth year of college (on 11th semester), leaving my skripsi behind for about a year and half already and my jobs are also a mess—I like my jobs as an indie craft artist and a freelance translator but at the same time I think I don’t really put so much effort on doing so. Sometimes I become all jobless for two weeks but then suddenly I don’t even have time to eat in four days straight.
One of my friends called me last night; we were talking about scholarship (a.k.a LPDP and shits). She is one of those people who want to pursue their studies with that scholarship. AFAIK, she wants to become a lecturer. I admire that side of her because I’m not that kind of person. I always describe myself as someone who is not “academically smart”. Even though I know if I want to do it, I could do it (but don’t you think this applies for everyone?). Continue reading
I think it’s the fourth. I’m currently watching Mad Dog and working at once. Niihwa’s song hurts(??) me so much even though I don’t know the meaning of the lyric. Haha.
I think I’m starting to imagine things. I took a nap after Maghrib and suddenly I hear Mom’s voice telling me to call Dad. Why do I need to call him? His phone is with me, I thought to myself.
I’m always half asleep when I take a nap (how do I even explain this tsk) so I was like, half alerted. I opened my eyes and then sigh was only thing came out because I realized I’m in Malang, in my boarding house and of course, it’s almost 8 months since Dad passed away.
Om Zaenal, one of Dad’s bestfriends from college also passed away last month. The heartbreaking news was told by another friend of Dad’s. I mean, Om Zaenal just contacted me on July, asking me for Dad’s death certificate.
I’m so confused. My skripsi, my jobs, my future, even I get confused of my own behavior and personality. I know that your relative’s death could affect you greatly. But I think… it’s too much.
There are some things that Mom told me that I need to change: that I need to put more effort in socializing with people, that I can’t be the old me—sitting behind my computer, pretending to have a social life; that I have to more consistent in what I’m doing (actually, I don’t to be told about this), and of course, to get focused on one thing after another.
WHY DIDNT HE SAY ANYTHING
WHY DID HE LIE TO US
AND ON TOP OF THAT, WHY I, ALL OF THE PEOPLE AROUND HIM, WAS THE ONE WHO DIDN’T NOTICE IT
I’M ME. I KNOW ME. YOU KNOW ME. WHY DID I BECOME THAT CARELESS DAUGHTER WHO DIDNT EVEN NOTICE THE DRASTIC CHANGES ON MY OWN FATHER
Why, why do I notice everything around me, even the smallest change, but I didn’t even notice of how chronic Dad’s disease was…
17th April marks down everything.
Me moving from the precious place but not by me, the sudden flight, ICU and its drama-alike…
Mblargh. The memories are flashing by again. I have things to do now but I think I’m too occupied by some random thoughts. What are you doing?
I’ll update this journal once I finish everything.
It’s so amazing how much I talk in my social media and still able to talk more in my blog.
So, I was thinking. Well, it’s common—I mean I’m always thinking.
I want to write fanfiction again.
It’s kind of difficult to start over, especially after 3-4 years hiatus. My mind is kind of stopped, takes a halt for a while. But, yeah. I need to try. I can’t stop dreaming about becoming a proper writer, you know. I mean, someone who really has a master piece. Not merely a daily blog writing.
Anyway, one of the bathrooms smells really bad. I used that bathroom to take a long bath around two hours ago, so it should’ve smelled fresh and good (I used many soap, shampoo, conditioner—anything with fragrance). So I’m a little bit suspicious that one of the tenants, who is in her period, took business there. I noticed that one piece of oil paper used to cover the glueing part(?) of a period pad is left on the floor, unnoticed.
I can’t help but get suspicious to some tenants whom I know have sloppy behavior.
Urgh, sometimes I hate myself for noticing small things like that. If I get a advanced practice and learning, I think I could become a good detective. But for now on, lemme just use this “skill” to judge people.