PEGUGU

A Reflection of My Life

This morning I feel not good as usual. I feel I lost my time again. Why does this happen to me over and over again, I do not know. I should be working--this sentence plunges into my mind and made me grieve even more. I feel good when I am writing about anything. Actually I like reading too and I am going to read 500 pages a day, doesn't that sound great? Not really. I never do that, do not even close to.

I look around and realize that Indonesian people spent their time in a lazy tone, me include. People do not do their best neither their good. All they do is daydreaming, lying on the bed, chatting on unimportant issues, and watching TV a lot.

I realized and hated all the deed above but still it seemed that there was something bended me with them, with this custom.

I know many people who work hard, I know some foreigners, I watched so many movies and know a little about life abroad, I read many books and learn people's mind and custom. I am a character reader at any respect. I am going to be an author, it's not suppose to be very hard, at least I can read and write. I speak Indonesian and English. I have a computer, a healthy body, a normal mind, so what the hell I am waiting for to write?

The fire!!! I need it very much!!! Mine!!!

And now the problem is how to catch a fire, I am cold, dying here with my own boredom. I need my fire right now right here. Like Han Christian Anderson’s story about a little girl who sold matches in the snowy street. She was chill and will die soon if she did not strike the matches to give her hope to life, to be happy.

And indeed death doesn't matter, like what I have heard somewhere that do not be afraid of death, be afraid of never life. Am I alive?

I do not know exactly. I sleep too much. I am hungry all the time. I am angry too. Is it not a prove that I am alive? But what kind of life I have? A pathetic one.

I adore those who work hard and never give up after they know that what they do will not drive them anywhere. I am going to be one of them, absolutely.

The living in my village is like a movie, or a book. They work hard everyday and close each other and spend many times to gather with the family, chatting on every issue. They all are typical just as well the living in the town. People are typical. I saw them like I watch a movie and I am not involve in it, I don't want to. Like a dream we will forget this life just after it is over. No one is so special since everyone is special in their own way. People forget their lad easily. The only thing they remember is their own. I can't do anything about them; it's nothing to do with me. I prefer to leave them alone with their life. Maybe I am not alive at all, who cares. They do not care whether I do good or do bad. I am like any other outsiders like any other things to them, merely a shadow.

Intruder comes! Enough to postpone my job or anything I do.

I am afraid that what I do is nothing, merely a dream, merely a memory in my next deed. I am a prisoner of time. I am stag here and the time move uninterruptedly, fast, and steady. I can't imagine it how the end will be. I like what has Derrida said; go there you cannot go, to the impossible; it is indeed the only way of coming and going.

Life is about making decisions. But we do not free about our choices!!! I imagine I can do what I want to do, it is all about choice and chance and many other requirements. However at least I am glad to master in English and understand many things-at least in my belief. Because this is not an objective world therefore we are too not objective objects. We are what we believe we are, aren't we? The consequence is simple, that is to say something true is not appropriate, but it is seem true, to say one is beautiful is not appropriate, but she is looked beautiful, etc.

It's hard to imagine that we are dreaming at this time. Everyone have their own cage, or I can say a frontier whether it is true or merely their imagination. I tend to believe that everything is depending on my own mind. The frontiers of mine are in my mind.