mine? mom's.

Sunday is my apartment quality time. I cleaned, cooked, re-arranged, worse cello-ing, did some solo for solo fashion show, examined my personal feminine cleanliness, and counting how much properties i took from my mom's..
There i was sitting on brown classic carpet, turning on tv just to get the noise, before my laptop, playing Yoville on facebook that noon before cleaning. my just-dried washed clothes were piled on pink little bench beside me. the three red shoes couples were off the boxes leaving others in stack. unordered. the smell of fried mushroom garlic in olive oil could not leave the 4x6room. it's a mess.
in my noisy lone, the news of tragedy of a dam stopped me the yoville. the losing of life and homes, also the tragedy of the world. i took a glance on my window, my apartment. tragedy could just happen anytime even squeeze my building like a baby squeeze the mother's wedding cake. then i took a glance on my room. all my stuff will be flushed away. yet, unromantically, i took another glance on the properties. remembering their-stories (history is too gender, their-stories is plural. ah, it's just another noise saying) before being the member of NG properties.. my noisy head time companies. and not again remembering i was weeping watching the news.
noisy mind is actually crueler than ignorance. for they can forget heart as swift as guy to love of a girl.
living in apartment, especially at the one listed with your name, means privacy. personal taste is no longer a privilege, it's an obligation. equal calling.
my glance took me data. the noise processed them. the result was there's no My Personal Taste in my room. except for the pink painting showing how absurd the painter was. i feel detached to the properties. i started imagining what my room would be in my personal taste. bright cheering colors, bright blue main wall like the nike tshirt i gave to my -ex-not-ex guy a day before, yellow curtain, or maybe pink wall, fuschia curtain, little red couch, not brown carpet, smaller fridge, LG flat TV, Cikini's rattan booskshelves, one big mirror, glassed wardrobe, and the NOT LV bedcover.
SO i counted how many i took from mom's home. Which i took for the sake of primary needs.

THAT LV BEDCOVER really annoyed me. I always hate knock-off (it's van damme movies = fake) branded anything for they're insulting everything. taste. pride.quality. geniousity.economy of the world.
for me, i'd better take my unbranded batik bag that needs no more introduction for the brand has already printed on the authentic PRIDE CHAUVINIST patterns than having those fake Prada. i took the LV bedcover from my mom's room, they're still untouched for it was meant to be given to me she said. as i'm in no position of dumping, i took it. i hate it but i sleep on it every nite. i put my loathe aside for knowing this isn't the time yet.

The Votre 21" (?) TV. mom bought it for 700Krp in a hypermarket in Bandung. 'It's cheap!' she said. 'Just look at it!' she insisted and lied to me about the price. only 400Krp she replied aain, knowing what my thought always be. I couldn't believe that was the same mom who bought 3 to 5 mil rp Aigner bags and giving them away to me, my sis, and sis in law. 2 to 5 each.
I have never bought TV since i used my laptop as everything functioning. as other moms, mine always wanted to take care of everything and she's always not wrong.
looking at the Votre, my chin wrinkled up. 'o mom, not again..'
'i could find a more better one, branded, not more expensive TV if u asked me.' i don't have to say it. knowing her' i know what u think, but im right' expression, knowing my disagreeing expression, we got bored discussing our different stubborn minds. we wouldn't fight over the unknown TV, and i again put my disagreement away and smiled in happy knowing that i no longer need to plug my laptop some more hours a day. it's just not the time..

The brown classic carpet. It's been with me since i was still a one year old baby. mom bought it in Brest, France to warm the small flat my dad's got from the scholarship institution. the turkish carpet is historical. i have no idea why i took it, as always, from home. mom seemed a little unwilling seeing me taking the carpet. yet, it's her spoiled stubborn little girl who's asking. 'it fits the cello, mom' i suddenly answered without thinking. the carpet is actually not my personal taste, but the history indeed personal. for this i can be considered as romantic.

The Samsung double door fridge. It was belonged to my cousin. It had been stored in mom's garage for nearly a year. 'For my new house will be', she said. after divorce. it never happened. ''maybe i'l put it in bogor, for emak. but we all realized better buy a new one in the same city when her proclamation take place. then, mom bought it for me. 'better give our money to family than to strangers' mom's words reminded me of Don mafia Godfather last episode where Al Pacino is left alone. Family is above all.
i actually disagree, i almost bought a smaller one door fridge same brand that fits me more. but i am cheap. than i said okay. with all the effort of finding the courier - another fight and she won because i was in jogjafatiguelymode aslept- she took 4848 (it's cheaper,only150K rp she claimed) meanwhile i already reserved for JNE (310Krp totally)that promised me of dropping it down to my door. turned out troubling for 4848 resisted to do as they promised the same for my mom paid extra money. o mom.. again. but im cheap, i know the consequence. always another trouble. that day, office day, i consistently called yelled protested gave solution to both the 4848 jakarta and bandung. once per hour. the same promise, okay, just wait miss, working on it. i dont trust them. as all cases, clients must prepare not to lie on businessmen. after work hour, i searched my own pick up courier, took the fridge from 4848, they gave me sorry smile replying my 'saya sebenernya kecewa pak'. and now, after paying more than what the JNE promised me, more sweat, more effort i exhaled for taking 3 courriers (the first two were mom's), more expensive traveling, the two doors too big fridge is now with me. cooling my mushroom broccoly, and doctor's facial cream.

again, i am cheap. whenever i can save my money, invest it on shoes rarely wear, i'd say okay to everything given.

this moment, realizing most of my primary belongings are taken from mom's, i understand that this will change. there will be time. there are times when you do have to give away some disagreeing stubborness to have a more qualified bonding with the person u most loved until they're ready to accept that you already are wonderfully evolved.
my mom is stubborn. but i am also, more. we fought a lot before this apartment.
even the apartment is mostly mom and dad given to me, my stock percentage is not at all could be seen as a most considered stockholder at all.
no personal NG taste. but i live with it. temporarily.

my shoes, paintings, laptop, sound speaker, all gadgets, suites, makeup, roald dahl's books, cello, those already are the beginnings. (has not mentioned men too.. heheh.. nah.. im a goodgirl. didn't do anything similar)

mine?later. mom's now.

ps. i don't vote.