welcome.

nah, haven't changed this skin for a very long time, because i like it. i once dreamed to have myself done a masterpiece like this—yes, with those CSS and other informatics subject—but it never really happened. moreover, i've been accepted in architecture and planning school, so... yeah. #sigh

anyway, i've found that the template is somehow interesting. you can click on the characters—L O V E—above! kya. :3

okay, enough for the blurb.
have a blast.

Click on L O V E to navigate

Wet your dried-out lips with saliva
What's more strange than this, your saliva
If I did not miss your saliva
If my lips could kiss your saliva

Labels: article, life story, randomness

Hey, it really broke my heart into pieces.

I know I can't arraign you on this, and don't know how to make you return either, but still, it feels like half of my soul's been taken when I knew it, that you're gone to the other side. Takes me two days to wake-up in the morning, do all my works, and then fall asleep, with this matter on my mind.
The feels is even worse than being rejected by my everlasting crush.

Blame myself for not knowing this for a long time. It's not that I can cure it but, I don't know... I just feel I can do something for you if I know it earlier. I barely said anything that night. This not-so-new news was too unreal to believe. But it was unfair to let you be the only one to make a speech. That’s why I’ll try to pour everything along with this letter.

You are always an extraordinary figure for me. The holidays we spent building the Christian student fellowship’s website was an unforgettable one. The first site-background had been made ever! (it has been changed quite a long ago, though you can still see it in impmk). I like how you drove my perfectionist side along when we were tidying up the database. I liked having chat with you, it enrich me somehow. I know you feel it too, that we’re quite a kind. I mean, I don’t meet very much people like you. You’re that antique thing, that lucky encounter only a few people can witness.

You began to prepare me as your successor. Taught me those things I haven’t learnt from anybody but you. Little by little you entrusted me the twitter account and lead my by the hand how to be an administrator. You knew what method to make each of your trainee grow in their pace. And sure you were the tenacious one. I want to confess that, those times, when you force-feed me with all of those secretary-material, I kind of feel burdened. Not that I didn’t like that, but, thinking that I would manage those entire big things made me feel unsure I can handle it right. That made me evades those tasks as long as possible. But what you did to me is just unexplainable; you keep investing your time and knowledge on me. Shape me to be as good as you, patiently. You did not stop training this half-witted apprentice. I know everybody labeled you as the-one-who-had-commitment-issue, but the way you taught me is a proof that it is considerably invalid.

Remember that night when you walked me home? We talked about everything. You handed me two books, Radical Disciple and Conversational Evangelism. You say it is holiday-alimentation. I read it in routine… for two weeks. And when I saw you the upcoming academic year I just apologized because I haven’t finished it yet. You just stayed there, smiled in agony, and say "Glad at least you open the first page"-thing.
If I finished those books then, could I help you now?

When you finally retired and left the things in my hand, trust me, I was losing you. But everyone told me that you'll be everywhere and anywhere, even I couldn’t see you physically. And I feel we were attached by some kind of spiritual string. Considering you will be reachable via prayer, I tried to let you go to do your bigger cognizance. I believed you'll be doing alright. And I’ll be your success successor.

But then I couldn't make it. The load on my shoulder is too heavy to be handled alone. Maybe I didn’t have as much passion as you to deal with the loneliness of being an administrator. When I finally found Ms. JCR as my prospecting successor, I immediately handled it to her. I never guided her seriously—not in the way you ever taught me. And as soon as I thought she is ready, I left her with less-humane tasks. Feeling guilty, I abandoned all those web-administration things—started from refusing to do a visit, un-bookmark, until totally neglect it. Countless skill and knowledge that you’ve been carefully passed down to me vanished just like that. Fruitless. I couldn't imagine how your feeling was. The reason it happened possibly because all this time I was doing it not for The Maker. But for you. I regret it so much. I know sorry could never redeem this, but I’ll say it again so. I’m sorry.

I never feel sorry that I have known you, though. Our rendezvous made who I am right now. I managed to type sentence in correct punctuation (and grammar—hopefully), thanks to you. The last final project report of mine was wandering all around arch department—everybody used it as technical benchmark for theirs. I even created a bundle of bad-jokes as one of essential tools to help mentors on regeneration ceremony do ice breaking with their mentee—also using several of your cheesy stock.
Your ways of thinking, your point of view towards things and people, influenced me so much. I learnt to see what people want to hear. Thus, slightly manipulating way of talking to get what I want has become habitual.
And have I told you that, sometimes I get the opportunity to practice the Conversational Evangelism? I don’t hesitate anymore talking about belief with the non-believer. Why, because I think your small talk about Christianity, a long time ago, dosed me right.

When I was doing retreat handbook and feel that the giver of the task is not professional and remember how many other important tasks I should have been doing beside of that, you just simply told me, “God teaches us real love by bringing to us unlovely persons at unlovely time and place.” When I grumble because there are so few people that care about insignificant things like orthography or small error on database format, you remind me that if I think I’m too big for doing small things, then I’m too small to be given big things. When I was hesitate to continue servicing via media because how scared I am if I didn’t meet your expectation, you say, no gift is too small. Even when we are not talking about anything in particular, you suddenly chat about those theological topics like how we are not supposed to scared of death, and how we replace big condolences with see you later in Father’s home instead. Sometimes the way you tuck doctrinal substance besides every-technical-skills-you-want-me-to-have makes me amazed.

Remember that day when you told me a story about you being the head of health-safety-environment for our campus student orientation program? You’ve made environmental regulation for the entire training and activities. Everything was going well until the lunch time came. You see, the crowd where you were serving as mentor was using styrofoam (plus littering at the rooftop)—and it broke the rules you have made. You decided to warn them but, on the following day, they did the same mistake. You—as the HSE head—drop the ultimate penalty: to work on all garbage according to provision that had been determined by HSE team. Their activity was finished and everybody seems to have no idea what to do with the rubbish—the existence of it was even unseen. You felt obligated. You didn’t want that particular student activity unit got a bad name to the academic community, but you couldn’t just let the trash throw themselves and consider that the rules do not apply in this time. You care about them but you also had to be fair. Whoever had made mistakes—in this case, twice—must be punished.

But what did you do?

You started to pick those squalid things—making it a huge pile of trash—then sorted it based on materials. Unloading trash-bags, collecting mineral water’s carton, setting aside the slightly rotten leftovers, piling up plastic glasses. Basically, becoming an impromptu-dustman. Therefore, they are freed from sanctions, and you accomplished your duty rightly, at once.
In the end of the day, you’ve done the punishment that had been given by yourself. And in the end of the same day, you admitted it—that by grace, Father came down as a human to receive the punishment He created alone. When confronted by either to love or to be equitable.

I can’t argue about validity of science and history you told me before. The only thing I know is love never lies. Our tiny brain can’t never ever rationale His love, no matter how hard we try. But sure you can feel it almost without trying. And if we only believe what can be proofed, then what is the meaning of faith? Faith is the reality of what is hoped for, the proof of what is not seen, I know you know this. I myself believe that we don’t need to proof love. It’s there and always there. However, His redemption of us is the most valid evidence of love. You know it for sure because you have been going through this by yourself. Is that still insufficient for you?

Then when is enough proof is enough?

Free stuff must be questioned, except salvation.

***

I choose not to put my daily happenings or feelings or thoughts into writing recently. Although the memory of it will last longer, it is also harder to forget when you don't want to remember it. But yeah... I write to honor you, who'd taught me to do so. In my slightest slice of life, I still found your writing inspires me—even now, when it’s not talking about The Book or Him anymore. Hope this rough and raw sketch enlightening you a little bit. I’m far from some sexy people that able to develop fine vocabulary :)).

Thanks for had been here on my life. I'm sorry for not being a good successor. You will always be a good mentor for me. Whatever you do now, I hope you’ll be doing it right. I’m sure that this just a confusing phase of your life. It’s okay. No one can snatch you out of His hand.

See you there in our home.
(LATER, NOT NOW)

Prodigal son waits to return to where the dogs play pool.
I love you all.

Labels: life story, randomness