The Self-Centered Universe

Recently, as my ideas-detector started to get back on its activated mode (it was on hiatus for a while, due to the self-hate I suffered from), I've gained back my observational-thought, which helped me to survive as a thinking-breathing-living being.   

At work, there is another full-time employee whom I spend most of my working-time with. We sit next to each other, separated by a-meter-long desk and a pile of the children's homework we have to score. When we're bored, we ask questions about each other's life, and this is where I found a theory which I've heard somewhere (not sure where it was). It is called the self-centered universe. 

We talked about last night, when I got lost to the location of an event that I had to attend. That was such a short-unintentional talk, we laughed for a while (faking a laugh to be exact), it ended within seconds, and we were back in silence. Few moments later, another conversation popped up, it was a work-related-stuff. But in a strange way, I didn't get it. I should've said something correlated to the topic, instead I chattered about how I managed to get home after the event last night, which the talk has ended a moment ago. It took me a while to realize how stupid my response was. And I was not the only one being stupid. She was too, made me have to clarify what actually the talk was about. But still, it happened for hundred times later.  

In self-centered universe theory, every person acts as the center of the universe, making there's no single particular center but millions. In this term, center does not necessarily mean a physical form of a thing which physically becomes the only source of focus of the entire universe. Center is a perspective. According to the short-unintentional talk above, we could spot a tendency to drag the topic of new conversation to the topic of former conversation. The reason for this was because we have this perspective that the former conversation was the one which we played a role as the main character. We love being on the spotlight, we want to bring the rest of the talk to the stage where we gain the most attention from and it's no difference with any other aspects of life.   

As long as human bring this big guy inside our heads (a.k.a brain), we always will bring this portable stage everywhere. This is the stage where we wish other people to see, to admire, to give standing ovation upon, to worship, because we believe that we're the main character that deserve such attention. No one wants to be on any one else's stage, because we don't want to play as a mere side kick. Unfortunately, it is not only us who hold this believe. Everyone else does. We know this, but we pretend like we don't. Instead of bringing others to collaborate and create an amazing play, we compare each other's stage and become showy of our own false believes that we're the best actor. 

There are only two possibilities where this could lead to: first, we go no where; second, we ruin each other's stage just for the sake of our own's.   

P.S: this post is written to celebrate the independence day.

The Day I Lost My Right Arm

One fine Monday morning, I woke up and couldn't find my right arm. It was not on the pillow, under the blanket, nor behind my back. It wasn't everywhere. I glanced at my feet, wondering if they were intact. Thank God, they were.

It was 7.30 am. One and a half hour before I should go to work. I still got time to find my other arm, but I needed help, so I asked you to come out.

"Where the heck you put it? You fed it to a hyena or something?" You were frustrated. Your hair was as messy as mine, we both always look terrible in every morning.

"I can't remember. I'm sure it was here." I pointed at my right shoulder, showing you a spot where my right arm should be. Now, it's just a 10-centimeters-long bone, covered by a thin layer of skin. It was like a cut from a neat-freak, that was operated during my deep sleep last night. "Help me find it," I said.

You rolled your eyes, seemed uninteresred. "Can't we just have a breakfast? I'm so hungry, I could die." You knew I hated complain and it wasn't take you too long to restate your offer. "Let's find it on nearby soto seller. You have soto for breakfast every morning, maybe it made you forgot to bring back your arm."

I noticed your stupid idea, but I agreed anyway. "Make sense." We left to have a breakfast and to find my right arm.

to be continued

Book Store

It's Sunday. Many people spend their time by going out and spending their money on something, including books. It wasn't in my today to-do list to go anywhere, but you insisted me and I easily agreed. We went to book store.

Staring at people being so much enthusiastic on books, was just as good as me reading books. Children  stopped by child magazine section just to read out loud the cover, teenagers read the blurb of a half-price-illustrated self-improvement book, parents discussed with their final-year-high-school child about choosing an exam preparation book and more people made a line in front of the cashier with pile of books in their hands. Despite of not knowing if they'll actually read what they've bought, that view was heartwarming enough.

I asked you to look at the ceiling of the book store. Promotional tools were hang up there. They were in red and blue. I could see the founder of this company, smiling from the height. "Aren't you thankful for anyone with an amazing courage of running a book store? I mean, what was in their mind? While others are struggling just to read and buy books, they came up with thousands of books! Even millions!"

You seemed disagree. "No, I'm not. People paid for them. What should be thankful for? It's an exchange, not a gift which you could simply get without purchasing any money. Don't you come here to spend your money on something? At least the parking lot. At least, by just existing here, you've showed them that you want them to keep on running their business, thus you let them to keep on making more money even if it's not from your own pocket. They are the one who should be thankful."

You make me like a fool book-lover who has zero attention upon what's beyond the visible and I could not accept that. "Firstly, gratitude was never been made for only accepting free stuff. Secondly, everything in this universe is about exchanging. Even free stuff. It's just not about something that a small-minded guy like you would think." My words made you frowned. I grinned.

"What do you mean?" you asked.

I chuckled. "Use your brain."

"I do!" you protested, made me burst into laughter.

"Not that brain," I pointed on your head. "But this brain," I moved my finger to somewhere around your chest. I paused for a while, waiting for your response, expecting you to understand.

But you did not. You were still frowning instead. I sighed.

"Okay, it's time to leave. You've been out here for too long."

You didn't want to. You insisted me to explain the whole thing, which I didn't do. It was enough for me to know how some people think about book, money and gratitude, and I didn't want to tell them about mine.

These are some hints:
1) giving is receiving;
2) it has nothing to do with money.

As usual, I put you back in the corner of my head, letting you stay there, until you come up with an answer of your confusion. 

I Can't Do This

I remember writing just because I love the typing sound on the keyboard. 

I remember being proud of my work and giving no care to those best-selling books.

I remember waking up without worrying on how I'm gonna finish what I've written. 

Those days, are no longer around. 

Last night, I slept after bursting into a lot of laughter from funny YouTube videos. A fake laughter. I used it to deny my self-doubt. With pillow covering my face, I shouted repeatedly.

"I can't do this. I'm done with this." 

The night remained quiet. My black book was opened; my pencils, markers, sticky notes were all over the places; my laptop was sitting nicely on the floor, showing me what I've been working on for this past few months. I stared at them, with self-sabotaging words echoing in my head. I crawled to reach a pencil, tried to write something down. One word, two words, ten words, and.. I gave up. 

Once again, I covered my face with a pillow, just to add more pain to myself by shouting the same words. Repeatedly. 

"I can't do this. I'm done with this." 

Those words were hanging in my head all night long, my chest was overloaded by an invisible army of self-doubt, my hands and feet were trembling, that army has defeated my final defense. I thought I was dying. And I was, indeed. 

Then, I watched another YouTube video with my leftover strength. It was a sad one and it was perfect. I cried as I was touched by the video content, which I definitely was not. The video ended. I stopped crying. I let things scattered on the floor, I went to wash my face, brush my teeth and went to bed after watching another funny videos. I laughed a lot like I hadn't cried before. I laughed like I was super proud of myself and my work, which I absolutely was not. 

First Day

My first day at work was overwhelming. I barely feel my feet on the ground, I wasn't even sure of what I was doing on the desk, until you showed up and reminded me to stay focus. It was just one day after you asked me, whether or not I was sure about having a job.

"I'm super sure I'll get this job," I said. You were with me, on my motorbike, right after my first time ever job interview. The sun was shinning too bright as usual, pollution was all over the places as usual.

"Will it make you stay human?" you asked. It was the same question you've been asking since.. God knows when.

We discussed this. About having a job to keep me sane, to keep me away from being stressed out of my messed up thought. You named it, 'to stay human'. You suggested me some conditions for the job that I could apply for:

1. it's nearby;
2. it's not that demanding;

3. it's doesn't use up my writing time.

"They have children, parents, English, assignments. What's better than that?" I answered, tried to sound confident.

You were not there for several next hours, hid at the back of my head, until a text message arrived, telling me to start working immediately, on the following day. You nodded, smiled and gave a bless to my first day ever in my first job ever.

A Debt

It's been five months since the day I graduate. I sat next to my best friend in the balcony, staring at a mountain that was covered with night lights, small buildings, houses' roof, and trees' canopies.

"How does it feel?" you asked.

"I feel nothing," I answered. You know I was lying. I was too overwhelmed with abundance of feelings that was coming back and forth during this five months period. You know I've felt too much ups and downs, you know I've had enough with them, but you also know that they'll keep on coming to me until I finish things I supposed to finish.

"Don't you miss those days? When all you've got was days packed with schedule? When you're surrounded with friends you interacted with, with tasks someone asked you to do, with deadlines someone else made for you to meet, with a potential that was chained for the sake of comfort? Weren't those days beautiful? I wish I could stay in that moment forever. Don't you?"

I shook my head. "Not at all. I'm good now. I was dying back then. I should've escaped earlier. The chain was locked too tight. I barely find my way out."

You giggled. "So, you regret being in those days? After all the excitements?"

"I said nothing about being in regret. They were indeed beautiful. But I won't miss any of them. The future seem to worth more my regret though."

"It hasn't even happened. What's the regret for?"

"I regret for not being able to make them to come earlier. I mean, if I spare more time juggling between doing other's order and doing my own thing, I don't think that I'll be this stupid. You know, the procrastination, laziness and stuff. They're here with me, since the day I was born. Could you help me getting rid of them? Please? For me? Your bestie?"

"I've got them too. I should help myself as well," you paused. "What about exchanging problems? I'll face yours and you'll do mine. We live in the same head, remember?" you giggled. I giggled.

You know, we both are stupid. But we laughed at it anyway. I've never been so stubborn with any of decisions I've made. But this time, it won't remain the same. I've told you like.. billion times that I'll keep on moving forward, following the direction that the smaller version of me was created. People named it dreams. I named it debt. The potential, the spirit, the desire, the persistence, were things that were given by my old self, to my current self. As an exchange, my current self should pay back by realizing certain objectives.

After exchanging giggles, I brought you back inside my head, in the corner of my brain, letting you wait there until a time when I need a bestie to talk with. 

Strangers Interaction

There are some characteristics of strangers-interaction:

1. consist of communication between two or more people
2. run in short period of time;
3. happen in public places, e.g: train, shops, street, etc.
4. based on mutual-short-term physical circumstances, e.g: strangers being passengers of a train because of a mutual interest of going to their destinations, strangers being in a bus stop because of a mutual interest of waiting for a bus to come.

Recently, I took a train from Malang and Semarang, and interacted with two strangers during the trip. We were perfectly fulfilled those characteristics and we had such a great trip because of each other. Once I arrived in Semarang, one of those two strangers, tried to extend our strangers interaction which ignores characteristic number two, three and four. Let's called him X.    

What did he do? 

After I arrived in Semarang, according to the characteristics, the strangers-interaction between me and those two strangers, are automatically ended. Because the short period of time has ended (characteristic number 2) and I didn't have the mutual-short-term physical circumstance with them anymore (characteristic number 4).

But instead, X was keep on sending me messages and bombarding me with calls while I was in my private room, a place where it's impossible for me to build any common interest with anyone. There are only two possibilities to explain what X tried to do: he didn't know how strangers-interaction should be (which makes him stupid); or he wanted to create a completely new interaction (which makes him stupid as well). In other words, a stranger could not interact with another stranger, if: he wants to have a longer period of interaction; he doesn't interact in public places; or there is no mutual-short-term-circumstances. So, for me, there would be two possibilities as well: ignoring X completely because he doesn't act to fulfill strangers-interaction anymore; or responding to X that might lead to interaction that is completely different with strangers interaction. 

I chose the former (the latter doesn't even look like a choice, it's a nightmare).

Once a strangers-interaction is ended, there will be another series of  strangers interactions that are created and ended within seconds. They replace one another according to each person's mobility and interest. That's why, it was easy for X to jump from strangers-interactions into a new interaction that he tried to build. But at the same time, it was also super easy for me to jump to another strangers interactions without considering any of my interactions with any strangers in the past.