This is a re-post taken from my April 2010 archives, titled ‘Being N.A.T.O. (No Action Talk Only)’, but this time, I only re-post the story, and not the thought.
I look up in the sky as I also tried to hang my dreams up there.
I get home late at night – finally. After such a long, hard, tiring day at work, like I don’t even have time to catch a breath, I finally—feeling so relieved, that I finally able to chill. Remembering that tomorrow’s weekend, and the fact that I don’t have to go to work, all those headaches seems so much worth-it. Tomorrow means I don’t have to set my alarm, and get up early; to stay as long as I want on the bed—oh, my comfy bed! How I missed it! If I got bored staying at home all day, I can always find refreshment outside. Perhaps one or two friends will be available to accompany me tomorrow. And S, oh, how I miss her! It’s been a long time since the last time we hang out together to get some coffee or chocolate, and chit-chat about… everything. Almost everything. And when did the last time it happen…? We never got together again since we graduated from college; because we’re too busy with our job, and we’re living separated from each other—faaaar-far away that makes me wonder when I would be able to see her again.
I took a short glance at my cell phone, then remembering that I had received e-mails and messages since the morning, yet I haven’t made any reply yet. I am always in a rush like I’ll never get enough time to read any of my messages or emails thoroughly, as what my friends used to say. I’m always in a rush. Always.
Shit. My phone’s off. Means I need to charge it. The last time I checked my phone’s still on. I grab the charger and charge it; at the same time I reach two remotes: one’s for the air conditioners and the other one… Well, I just hit it and my fave song was played. Easy, huh?
Sometimes I kinda afraid that one of my neighbor would knock on my door and asked me to turn the volume down, especially because I always come home very late at night, yet after I got inside the house, the only voice coming out from my house is the rock music I played, since that has been my fave for years, since my third year in college. But no one ever protested, and one of many reasons why I chose to live here is the individualism of the people in the neighborhood. I mean, we still greet each other every time we meet, if we knew each other, but other than that, we’re all “mind-your-own-business”-kind of people. That kind of “unwritten” rule had made me feel comfortable.
So, with no one knocking at my door angrily and ask me to turn the volume down, I guess everything just fine.
I turn on my cell phone and check my inbox. Two new messages and four emails. This time, I sit on the couch and try to scan all messages there. I delete all those new emails for they’re not important emails at all—you know, advertisement and offers, which I have no interest in. I sigh, and then move to my messages.
My mom texted me 5 times: two messages informing about her latest news—including everyone’s around, and the other three asking about my health, my activities, and whether I’m OK or not. I’m thinking of replying all her messages in just one long message, but the thought of the words I’m going to write itself—like, the length—exhausts me already. So, I take another sigh, and skip it instead, going to the other messages which I haven’t really read since this morning. Another four messages: one from an old friend, talking about reunion; one from my co-workers, asking about the issue we’d discussed at work today; one is hoax—deleted; and the last one is from a friend, a message consisting of a short preach with a verse from the bible, which I delete without even reading a word.
Feeling so tired, yet still tempted to surf in the net, I open my notebook and turn it on. It won’t be long, I said to myself, but I kinda doubt whether it’s going to be true or not. I know myself too well.
Browsing interesting articles, and reading all of them very quickly, then reading the news, which bored me pretty soon, as usual, I closed the tab. Reading some posts in some friends’ blogs, leaving comments and updating my status.
Then I look at my watch, and I was right. I can never spend less than two hours every time I open my notebook. But, hell, tomorrow’s a holiday for me. It won’t matter at all.
It’s already 4 AM, and I haven’t able to put myself to sleep yet. Feeling reluctant to sleep, yet I need to sleep. So, forcing myself to, I lie on the bed. I close my eyes, but I let my mind wander around with the song played in the player. Not long after that, I’m asleep already.
THE NEXT DAY
It’s almost noon when I wake up. Still lying on the bed, I hug my pillow, feeling reluctant to get up because of the comfort. I shut my eyes; trying to sleep longer, but at the same time thinking of what I’m going to do today. I got nothing in mind. At all. And I’m hungry. Still don’t feel like getting up, I think I’ll just make a call and order something. But then, just remember that I still have a leftover birthday cake in my fridge, brought by a friend having a birthday party a couple days ago, I force myself to get up and walk downstairs, to the kitchen.
The kitchen is right next to the living room, without even a wall to separate them, because I have a small kitchen, and I don’t really see the need of separating them although my dad always complaint about it. Well, there was not much he could do, though. Hell, it’s my own house anyway. I can set whatever rules I want, and I’m quite satisfied with it. I’m quite satisfied with my life right now.
So there I am, sitting on the dining chair and put a piece of cake on a small dining table. I don’t think I’ll need a large table for I’m living on my own. A big table will just give me the idea of loneliness. No, thanks, I’m quite content with my life. And a table for two is more than enough.
While enjoying my cake, I’m thinking of what I should do today. I actually need to clean the house, but I’m just too lazy to do it now. Maybe later. Or tomorrow. Or maybe I could ask someone to do it for me. I can ask one of my neighbors, they might know someone. Oh, well, I’ll think about it later. It’s weekend, so why bother?
I finish eating and feel too lazy to wash the dish—geez, I’m just too lazy to do anything, aren’t I? Screw it, I’ll just put it in the sink and leave it there for now. I know what I’m going to do first today: going to the bookstore. After that perhaps I can decide where else to go later on.
I know I still got a lot of waiting list; books that I had bought, yet I haven’t read until now, and I’m running out of space in my bookshelves, but I need some refreshment and the bookstore is just the perfect place for refreshment. At least, for me. The idea of having new books always fascinates me. Besides, books never get old, no matter how sophisticated the era had become.
So I grab my keys and get out of the house. There, I see my car, so fit, so perfect, just a part of my dreams, parked in my yard. I jump into my pickup and the next thing I know, I’m just so ready to go.
Oh my, what could have been a more perfect life than this? I’m not saying that this is the ideal, perfect life people always wanted, but this is my life, and I feel so much content with it. And I still got a plenty years ahead before my hair finally turns to white and wrinkles start to appear on my face. Unless God punishes me; cut my life on the way. Hopefully none of it would ever happen.