Well,
here I am. Back in the blog business. Honestly, I never thought that
I was gonna be back in the habit. As a matter of fact, the main
reason I've typed ANY of these posts was because I was being goaded
by my parents to be a more “productive” child and whatnot (I'll
whine more about that in a later post). Anyway, as much as I would
LOVE to bitch on about my many minor and insignificant complaints
about life in general, let's start off with a little story that never
fails to make me smile and rejoice about my current position in this
weird, weird life (totally unrelated, I got the title for the post
from the song I'm listening to right now as I type this very
sentence. You'll find that it's also rather fitting for the upcoming
story I'm about to share with you guys).
Have
you ever felt that your life was boring? Have you ever felt that
horrendous feeling of not being able to enjoy your time in your own
home, even with the countless amounts of gadgetry and entertainment
scattered around the house (if you're a milennial like I am, you can
probably feel my pain. As for every other person in the audience,
apologies if you don't understand how I feel)? Well in THAT case, let
me share with you people a story that ALWAYS makes me feel more
grateful for the shit I have. It goes something like this...
Several
months ago at school, my entire year level was scheduled to go on a
camping trip to Jogjakarta (for those of you who don't know what the
fuck Jogjakarta is, all you need to know is that it's a city in
Indonesia. If you wanna learn more, open another tab on your browser
and search for the details yourselves). The year level spent weeks,
maybe even MONTHS to prepare for the trip. We learnt how to cook food
with a portable stove, we learnt how to rig tents, etc, etc, etc. You
get it. Point is, this trip was really hyped up. People looked
forward to the prospect of being able to spend a week with each other
in the mountains, doing...camp-ey stuff I guess (sorry, couldn't find
a better word to describe it)
Except
for me. Because duh. For those of you who aren't frequent visitors of
this blog, lemme just make one thing very, very clear: I am not,
repeat NOT a chatty guy. Or at least I'm not a chatty guy when I'm
around people who have little to no interest in hanging around
hermits. Don't get me wrong; I've known communities where I blend in
perfectly fucking well, but more often than not, the community is
filled with a bunch of alien (hold on a fucking minute here, aren't
YOU the alien? They ARE the majority, after all...) dipshits who haze
me to the point where I feel like I'd rather lock myself in a shitter
than be anywhere near a bunch of people who speak in a completely
different language than I do (as in, almost everyone else in the
school speaks in Indonesian. I personally favor English, most likely
due to my oh-so-coddled upbringing...).
On
the day of our departure, everyone had their shit prepared, and we
all got on the bus to Jogjakarta. I WOULD'VE been dreading the perils
that awaited my fragile ass over at our destination, but apparently
my exhaustion was stronger than my fear, and I feel asleep rather
soundly, dismissing my worries and temporarily forgetting the fact
that I was gonna get royally fucked the second I set foot on the
camping grounds (by the way, I also managed to befriend several guys
on the way to Jogjakarta, but alas, our friendship would only last
for so long).
Fast-forward
to the moment when we actually reached our destination. By the time
we got to Jogjakarta, it was still dark out, so if there was any
consolation, at least the trek to the camping grounds wasn't done in
sweltering heat. Of course, the act of getting out of the bus and
walking in the dark was only the tip of a GARGANTUAN iceberg. Within
the next few days, I found myself dealing with a LOT of things:
militaristic group leaders, sleeping in tents covered in sweat WHILST
it rained outside (and having to share that tent with at least three
other sweaty motherfuckers, no less), arduous group activities,
defunct toilets and bathrooms (thus forcing me to hold in my shit AND
not take a single fucking bath throughout the entirety of the
trip)... Oh, and did I mention the fact that the only close friends I
had during this entire fucking ordeal consisted of a grasshopper, a
pencil and a brown notebook (isn't it amazing how insects and
inanimate objects can sometimes be more sociable than a bunch of
people I wanted to have NOTHING to do with? Being a freak can help
you realize that fact at times)? Neither the grasshopper nor the
notebook lasted very long, by the way. After all, I'm not very known
for my (nonexistent) skills of responsibility.
But
for now, I'm gonna leave the story at the trek through the dark,
dreary roads of the mountain, and tell you guys the next part of the
story in an upcoming post. Oh, and just so I can end today's post on
a cheerful note (just skip this bit if you aren't the type of dude
who enjoys spoilers), *SPOILER ALERT* this
story has a happy ending, and makes me feel MUCH more grateful about
my life, and continues to do so every time I look back and remember
that one time I had to undergo a certain, um, less-than-satisfactory
(and that's putting it nicely) camping trip. *SPOILERS END
NOW*
After
all, as a wise man once said (man? Woman? Was this quote even recited
by a person who could be considered “wise”? Ah, fuck it, you get
what I'm trying to say here), “suffering builds character”
(actually, it's coming back to me now. The “wise man” who said
this was probably Calvin's father from “Calvin and Hobbes”. There
you go. Happy now?).
Well,
that's all the time we have for today, soooooo, yeah! See you guys
until the next post, assuming you actually DECIDE to read the next
post. If not, then goodbye for good. You get what I mean. The next
post will be up tomorrow, at best. At worst, well, I'd rather not
talk (or think) about it. Peace out, everybody.
No comments:
Post a Comment