Yes, this year I’m celebrating Eid on the rig while being in charge. It is not as bad as it sounds because there would be ketupat and our favorite cuisines, and we’d do the Eid prayer on the helideck. The galley is decorated with colorful faux ketupat and as a moslem, I’m just as excited as ever. As excited as ever, as always as every year, I hate to see Ramadhan leaving. This year, it is about a spiritual journey. About struggling. About being thankful. About love and family and the future. About how strangers meet and their life would never be the same again. Happy Eid, for everyone who is happy about it. :)
I can’t remember exactly when I stopped calling myself ‘a blogger’. I’d tell you why, though. Because I used to write about my life for the world, and now, I write about the world for my life. — PS: Another reason. Because I hate the responsibility of being titled as ‘blogger’ to answer such question: “Mbak, apa betul dengan ngeblog kita bisa menghasilkan uang?”
I think we have our own definition of love. On high school, it might be “girl and boy are being young and cute (and stupid) together“, and three years later, we changed our mind and defined it as “finding our own home where we belong.” Growing up then kidnapped us without telling the azimuth until we saw the horizon from another sides. It took us to a particular height to make us wiser. Maybe to the tallest temple in the city where we can pray out loud, maybe to the jetplane so we can invisibly cry a goodbye. Then from such distance, we see love, as a million beautiful pieces of life. Joy, laughter, prayer, teardrops, babies, wedding, flowers, understanding, sharing, caring, patience, struggle, trust, loyalty, kindness, plan, __________ (go up there, see what you can see, and write them down for yourself.) I think at that point, we would fall in love with the love itself.