Love Doesn’t Exist?

I was engaged in a convo with M this evening. He told me about how he witnessed his parents’ love and how they go through their marriage. It warms my heart that such “love” still exists, though I am not that lucky to witness one.

In my belief and which is not beyond my logic, love only occurs when two people meet, both parties satisfied with each others’ qualifications, agreed with both terms and conditions, at the right timing until one party starting to get unsatisfied with the qualification, more demanding with the terms and conditions, and let say one of them has started to stop trying. Trying? Yes, in a nicer way to define, nobody is perfect (well, no one is named nobody, right?). People’s expectations are always higher than what normal people can give, so in short it’s how people starting to tolerate and accept each other’s flaw until one of them stops to tolerate and accepting.

I am still waiting for that one person that makes me believe such an unconditional love exists. Cheesy enough. But as I said, it’s called expectation and hope when it’s difficult to be reached.

And, don’t ever date someone who claims love doesn’t exist. Been there, done that, and it was one of my most awful experience.

Well, let’s move on


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“I heard you messed up in class A”

I gave my resignation letter two weeks before. And two weeks letter I got that instant message from my ex colleague. The message left me hanging. That day, I was just awoke and my eyes went from -.- to O.O. Why?

Because I am confident in my way of teaching and I taught all the grammar points. I left with as little mess as possible. As an English department form teacher, I needed to teach both grammar and reading part. To minimize my mess left for my substitute, I finished teaching the grammar point for all my classes. I left that with all my students completely understood and only review would be required.

The reply came, and the complaint was, apparently, my students did all the reading part on their own. And the teacher did not need to explain anymore. Thus, the complaint. The teacher complained that he did not have any material left. For teaching sake! It helped you! All left was just reviewing.

The definition of messed up is quite unique these days.

I may just realised this, nevertheless, I love teaching.

And dear students, I am proud of you. 🙂

A Place Called Home

Home. It only consists of four alphabets, yet it has a really deep meaning.

It is a place where you can, want, and be able to return to. It is not some place where you think you must return to, or a place where you think you should return to. It is somewhere which offers you the sense of security. It gives you the feeling of being protected and you know you will be okay being in there.

Home is a destination. Why? Because at every end of the day, you will have to have place to come back. And it won’t do if you feel your legs got heavier the moment you need to go back.

Home is somewhere you run to, not somewhere you run from. It gives you the feeling of “I am finally home”, not “well, I am home” along with a sigh.

Home is your so called paradise.

So, do you have one? A place to return to, someone to return to.

Let’s celebrat…

Let’s celebrate today as an irrationally irritated day!

Had a typical convo with C. I described one as an emotionless bastard. Apparently, C told me I am calling the kettle black. Of course, I denied it.

However I need to take back my own denial. After a long long long thinking thorough how I went through stuffs, well yeah, I am also that bastard. On my defense, I remained calm because I still don’t feel it crosses the line, or I can still bear it. *kalem*

*inspiration vaporizes*

Goodnight, hearts


The answer of every question.

Why would people waste their time waiting? Because they care enough to give a portion of their life that they could never get back. But the amount of giving a damn for a particular idea is limited when the other party takes it for granted, thus, people stop waiting. They move on.

Why would people tolerate? Because they try to understand. But to cross the horizon of understanding is as thin as a 1mm line. When the patience blows up, and they refuse to understand, they can either choose not to give the slightest damn about it and move on, or they can err… I can’t get another option for this. Okay maybe just to not care about it anymore and to just forget about it.

Well, to keep why-waiting-is-tiring short, well, because they are just tired for hoping and expecting in the process. Hope and expectation often lead to disappointment. In several special cases, they can bring joy. Several. Special. Cases. Owing to the fact that oftentimes, they hope and expect more than they could actually get. Given idea by Paulo Coelho in his book, The Alchemist. The more you spend time with a person, (s)he will become a part of your life, and you will start expecting him/her to change, and if (s)he doesn’t you will start to get angry and that anger is a form of the disappointment. Personally, I also have read Leo Babauta’s writing about why we should just toss away our expectation to the sea. He is right. Life without expectation does give space to the disappointment. It keeps us away from being resentful and dissatisfied. It’s true when he said something about how expectation gives us an illusion about how things were supposed to be and mostly, in the end, we would be disappointed. But, question is, can we?

Living without expectation, in my opinion, is the same meaning as no judging. In the moment you saw the thing, you judged, and you started to expect. That’s the mechanism of a human being, isn’t it?

Nonetheless, wake up! Impossible people can live without judging. The first thought that pops out would be your judgment of the particular idea or thing or even person. Rather than making your life more difficult than it already is (by finding a way to toss the expectations to the sea), why not just live life as simple as it is? Breathe-see-expect-face the reality-move on.

When people start to get weary, they stop hoping and expecting, they move on. It’s as easy as it is.

Goodnight, hearts.

Protected: Decisions

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