Story of Rose
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Aren't changes great?
Surely I'm not the only one getting sick of that overly wide layout and the grey mix with candy colour scheme. And my old readers surely know I've used the left panel for far too long already.
Well aside from my blog, I've also changed a lot as a person in the past few weeks. For one, I now have a proof of citizenship and a driving license. I also learned more about the world, through conversations with my family, and this great book called The Alchemist. I also learned to appreciate the people around me, and to love them more.
Not long ago I thought "seems like life only started for me the moment I stepped on Melbourne", but that is so far from the truth and now I can't believe the thought even crossed my mind. The thing is, before Melbourne, I lived through the days following a routine. In Melbourne, I broke the routine, but I was still oblivious to what living could really be. But now I'm back in Jakarta and now I see clearer about life and it is partly about love, following your dreams, trying your best and living for the moment. (The Alchemist, anyone??)
Soo... I probably sound like some guy in some sort of campaign preaching about enlightenment -_-' but the point is I feel like I'm a better person now. And I see things with better understanding. Kind of like how a baby bird feels when it first learns how to flap its wings.
Deep stuff aside, I love roses! Especially pale coloured ones. Red ones are lovely too of course. I got a bunch from a wedding party the other day and I decided I'd make press flowers out of them so I googled instructions for it. Hung the roses upside down in my closet for 2 days, and now they're being pressed amidst my humongous pile of Maths books accumulated from sec 1. Don't know how they will turn out :s
Back to deep stuff, I now have a brand new favourite quote:
The secret of life is to fall seven times and to get up eight times.
Have a great day guys :D
Labels: blog layout, flowers, roses
Grandfather
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Grandfather opened the door, eyes glinting. He prepared lunch for me and my brother in eagerness, using the old ladle to put out the pork soup into a big bowl. I watched him intently, and observed the muscles in his still strong arms. He moved rather briskly between the kitchen and the dining room, leaving me and my brother at an awkward loss on what to do. We helped move the plates a bit and that was it.
We sat down on the dining table. Grandfather watched us both help ourselves to the meal. I asked if he weren't going to eat, and he said he'd like to watch us both first. He insisted a feedback for every meal cooked and I answered honestly. The stereo in the living room played my and his favorite - classical music.
When we were full, Grandfather gave us each a cup of tea from the old kettle. It was sweet ginseng tea which I loved. We put the dirty plates back in the kitchen, and Grandfather stopped us when we tried to wash. He said it's faster if he does it by himself and we should just sit in the living room. I watched him start washing and hovered around for a bit until he shooed us out.
It was cloudy outside, grey skies. Grandfather lived in a comfortable little apartment with Grandmother, who was out. The living room was filled with family portraits and little snippets of memories. The movie poster I designed for my university project was printed and stood beside a frame. The college brochure which featured me and my brother was taped to the speaker of the old telly. And the classical music was playing so loudly.
Grandfather came out of the kitchen with a brand new water stain on his old yellow shirt. He wiped his hands on his usual faded checkered shorts and let out a kind laugh, "See, that was fast wasn't it?"
We fell into conversation. Brother asked Grandfather what he usually does at home. "Read books... listen to music... I read a lot of books" he proceeded to take us to his bedroom which was lit by a small orange lamp and showed us a waist-tall bookshelf with several biography books. Then he nonchalantly handed me a grimy secondhand paperback novel and two books on fine art.
A few more cups of tea later, it was time to go home. We took home with us the pork soup and books. He closed the door, and our classical music died.
Labels: grandfather
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Hello. This blog was created for me to store memories. Because... I have a bad memory. hehe
juice-22 EST.2006
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