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August 14, 2016

That night when only me and her in a time after supper, I gave a short hurtful reviewed on how our alliance so-we-called family could be this messed up. By opening this up I hope she know my feelings, I hope she'll listen, I hope she’ll understand.

The ugly truth: my family was (and still is) that kind of family that never had conversation with each other, or gather to share feelings about each other. The family that shut down a problem by pretending that everything is gonna be just fine if we don't talk about the problem no more. The family that created peace by keeping the bloody war inside everyone heart.
Dangly Amazing, we've done this for years.

I told her:
How my siblings and I survived our childhood obtaining abusive treatment from her and her husband. 
How it affects us until now. And I thought she should know.
How I learn so much from this messed up family.
How I see my friends’ parents were not like mine.
How I want to change everything, start the talk and forgive.

And she told me:
How she was only a stupid mother.
How she regret what she and her husband did to us back then.
How she's okay we don't consider her as a mother no more
How a neighbor's kid still love their parents even in abusive childhood.
How she's survived in pain pregnant and born us.
How she wants to live peaceful without talking about the past.
No, mom. I don't mind if you are stupid. I don't need a brilliantly clever super mom, I only need a mom who’d like to know her children's feeling and what kind of life they're living. I want a mother who'd like to stop this bloody war and fix this family. I want a mother who gave a damn care, if love is too much to ask.

I thought that night I was failed made her understand. Maybe I should try some other time.
Yeah, maybe some other time I should said it without tears.

August 9, 2016

Recently, I was included as a member of a senior-high reunion group on WhatsApp. As I enter the chat-room, people are excited about it, they actively participate extended the chit-chat.
Otherwise, some people were not that exited. People who reading chat histories but didn't typed anything, people who kept quiet but secretly laughing out loud while reading, someone like me.
To be honest, my senior high period was not really that amazing. If  people said their best moments in life happen during high school, it doesn't happen in mine. You know what? Just simply because I'm the teacher's daughter.
I was cursed by that epithet during high school. My dad was teaching an extracurricular class back then. I've never taking his class anyway but some of my classmates did.
Its a common situation where (even a favorite) teacher have a bunch of haters. FYI, my dad was not passed a qualification as a favorite teacher, instead of he was one whom annoying.
For that matter, I've never felt like anyone would like befriended with me sincerely unless my dad wasn't their damn teacher.
You get my pain point?
Nobody remembered me as Uki, the girl with a weird smiles, or Uki the girl who awkwardly rise her hand in the middle of the class when nobody does. Me, Uki as myself.
I guess what they remembered was; Uki that teacher's daughter, Uki whose brother good in music name Banie. Uki whose sister that good in English name Margie. (my sister and my brother went to the same school with me)
All I want was just be a common student who also want to befriend without being remembered as anyone's daughter or anyone's siblings with a comparison as a plus. I was just want to be recognized as me, Uki, that ordinary fellow.
Well, anyway I'm glad that someone still remembered me and put me in that group. That's mean I still remembered. Maybe my classmates doesn't mean to treat me that way. Maybe it was just me who feel that nobody was really sincere befriended with me because I'm the teacher's daughter. Maybe it was me who's not sincerely giving my best shot to know them better, play with them some little more.

Ah, yeah, I guess that's what had happened.


June 10, 2016

The cubical club now is part of my daily zone. I spend 40 hours a week with people in this club right in the left corner of the room. Nobody touch their thirty yet, which means we are the most energetic-youthful team in the whole office. A thing about working with young people around is we don’t really bother with manners and had zero tendencies to use highly decent language to each other in the club.
Even some of my colleagues address each other’s by 'pet' names like; 'Njing' or 'Nyet' (though Nyet [monkey: mo-nyet] is not a pet). Also, they do not hesitate to swear using these kinda words; kampret, tai, telek, sial, sialan, siaul, anjir, bangsat, mampus, if they feel annoyed. And we used to it. They use to it. It's like those bad words become the common word people using in daily conversation as common as we'll say 'hey', 'good bye' or 'hallo'.
Therefore, within the entrance of Ramadan an idea popped up; that we should pay 1K rupiah for each bad word or sarcastic word we pronounced either it's accidentally or by any means. Everybody was in, even the Christians like Ricco, Sherly (the new mar-comm), and kak Cipet were exited.
In day two, everyone has already paying for their bad words while I had no expertise to actively participate. I basically an expert introvert. I don't talk much even less cursing people around. Well, cursing is some kinda anger or annoy released for me. I did curse sometimes; I'll say the F word or 'darn it' a hundred times while whisper it to my sellf.
After all, I guess this idea became a social punishment game that made some of us think twice before saying bad words. Finally, this cubical club has gave me something to write about.
Anyway, let's see how much 'dirty money' we gained in the end of this fasting month. And where it goes for. Until then.

April 24, 2016

Follow your heart its an ambiguity when the things you really want to do takes to much risks, and the shits push your courage aside.
Oh, how office work could damage your brain and your creativity, srzly.
I've always dreamed to have my own store, selling things online, hunting down rare traditional craft, share it, create a master book of Indonesian's culture, and became a travel writer.
Yeah, something like that.
Well, at least, Not in the near future.
I'm still struggling with things I don't desire for starting the things I really want TO DO.
How it sounds like?
Very canny for people in the city.
Good night, fellas.

February 21, 2016

I was laughing at the picture above because my dad is not yet promoted to be a grandpa just simply because he's not the best father? Hmm.. make sense to me.

Oh, I'm not sure this is a pleasing news but my parents were finally reconciled like two weeks ago (previous episode: my dad caught on cheating and he's leaving home for about two years without news) and I was like having a cold war with him ever since.

After he came back to my mother's house and for another awkward days in the same roof with him, I better staying still in my room while he's watching telly in living room. I was just saying few words if he asked me about something. I never opening up a conversation with him unless I need something. I never bring him water, made him a cup of coffee, or any of things or behavior a daughter should done for a father as a form of respect.

I just couldn't.

Toward their remarried, my dad never officially talking about what had happened before his two-years disappearance to us, his children or even my mom (maybe, I don't know if they've already talked about this).

He was like skip the explanation part (which is very essential) and get going to the teary part while saying "I'm going to pay all the things I've done."

Paying with what, dude? Money? Sorry, I made my own already.

Umm, and what kinda things you've done? Please explain in two thousand words essay.

Can you purchase disappointment? Hell NO, dad.

Am I still mad?

I don't know.

I just don't feel like to share any of my private thoughts or feeling with him. Or discuss my future live, or talking about man with him.

He wasted all of the time he should have done something like that, he was never there when we really need him.

So.. I guess I never really have a picture of a guarding father (or mother). But it's all okay because I have my siblings on my back, we are team Salam, remember?

So when my mom having this reconciliation, for me it was like choosing between her husband and her children. And she chooses my dad. I was like, okay go a head, we don't mind, enjoy your life and be happy, bye.

But, I really mean it.

My best wish for them is to find what they are looking for. Happiness? They only know.

But the cold war still happening, I don't know when it's gonna be over. I might need something to burn out my heart so it won't getting colder.

Need to find a fire, bye!


February 19, 2016

Uki, I invented the name at senior high and I love it because no body has it. In three thousand possibilities, three thousand student, Uki was always be mine.
Until a month ago someone name Uki (and yes, she's a woman too) is in the same office with me. In only seventy possibilities, seventy names and I should share a name with someone.
Can you believe it?
Suddenly I really want to change my names, lol, seriously.
But someone helps me with that. Ka Ginny gave me this playful name sounded like Shawki, but its actually SHAUKI.
Now every body start to call me that.
Anyway, thanks Kak Ginny.


authorThe Person in the Foreword
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