My very first thought of moving out actually happened while I was sorting the possibilities of where should I take my undergraduate collage. I was once thinking about going to capital city, learning psychology in that one yellow university. But then it never happened, instead I was going to a school of architecture in this very city. A city where I was born, growing up, and having my primary and secondary school. And so the thought disappeared.
Later, when I graduated, the thought came again. This time it even went further, not only to the capital city, but to some other neighboring countries. And of course it failed, instead I was accepted in an independent urban design institution in this very city, again, just right across my college, a fifteen minutes walk from home.
To be honest with myself, I could tell that working there was some kind of 'a dream coming true' to me : to work in an urban design institution (or consultant). So, just like when I was entering college, the thought of moving out disappear. Until the day I had a dream to have a graduate study overseas. For one more time, it doesn't work. Instead, I was accepted in a master program at the same place as where I pursued my undergrad degree. The same old story repeat itself.
Long story short, I got graduated and coming back to professional world as a freelance part timer in my previous office. Well, this time with a combination here and there so that it's not really just there. However, after some while floating on an annoying comfort zone, I reached the point where I realized I need to take the leap. Or I won't do it for the rest of my life.
So, I finally came to a day of what people called "last day". A last day in an office which had given me rooms to get to know urban design, a phrase that is still being one of the keywords of my dreams. Either those good times or bad times were both a just right combination to nurture my point of view towards professionalism. I learnt a lot, I missed a lot. But one thing I'm now really sure of, is that a dream could only be shattered with another dream, the bigger the new one the finer the old pieces left.
I never thought a farewell could bring such a melancholy. It was the moment of 'this time I'm going for not going back anymore'. Leaving a comfort zone, either it's a pleasant one or an annoying one, is indeed hard.
But I'm leaving anyway.
And now, I'm on the new chapter of life I've been longing for so long. The second phase. The (personal) life in between 'still belong to mom and dad' and 'building my own family'. Well, another dream coming true I might say : a phase of independently living away from home. Hmm, not really that independent though.
And how do I like it so far, if you ask?
Despite the fact that now I'm living in a city of traffic and speed, somewhere some people pointed it as 'a city where you get old on street', I'm (surprisingly) loving it. The routines, the almost-two-hours commuting time from home to office, the bring-the-lunch-myself, the packed bus, the weekly groceries, the weekly cleaning, the two-days laundry, the job, the solitude of depending only to myself on a daily basis, are all the (new) things to challenge me.
Okay, loving it might sound wrong. A love-hate relationship is more like it. A balance. Since there're also things I could not consider as challenge, such as a really really really poor pedestrian ways, a not-so-integrated public transportation system, dumb motorcyclist those take over pedestrian ways, unpredictable traffic, unreliable drainage system, and the too many hours spent on mobility. Indeed, I'm already spoiled with the comfort zone I left behind. But there's no other way than to survive, here. Or else I'd only be a walking zombie. And to survive means to be effective. Separating the needs and the wants. Being focused, and manage distractions as many as I could handle. Scheduling. Eat well, sleep well. Keep on time, on track of the destination.
Oh, and one thing, without a destination, all those things will only be meaningless. Thankfully, I had one :)
Living away from home I used to know, I could finally picture the 'home' I'm heading to. Not yet perfectly drawn, but the bigger picture could now be imagined. Slowly, I begin to understand of why did my life go this way.
cemburu adalah pagi yang mendung, siang yang terik, dan sore hujan badai.
menyembuhkannya adalah dengan sedikit merah, sedikit kuning, dan sedikit malam.
sayangnya cemburu tak pernah benar-benar lelap. ialah yang berjaga ketika ada penyelinap yang tiba-tiba menutup mata dari belakang.
udara yang mengekor di setiap keberangkatan,
adalah sekaligus perekat bagi langit yang terderai oleh perpisahan.
ceritamu menitikkan setetes air di ujung bumi,
yang menjadi awan-awan penjaga sebuah pengembaraan,
dan peneduh tanah-tanah tempat pulang.
ceritanya, adalah yang kamu tunggu,
di balik sebaris "selamat kembali ke rumah",
sekalipun itu hanya hembusan nafas yang tarikannya kaulepas seperjalanannya lalu.