It’s me again. Still alive, yes not dead yet… feel half dead, half asleep.

This posting was not supposed to be the good one, the positive and uplifting spirit one or making your hopes high up. You can read fuckin’ chicken soup for the soul instead, ahh well fuck it, sometimes you just feel so low you don’t care about what people might say.

Apologies for abandoned this blog for a month… I went to Bali on a contracted job to be a Graphic Designer for Asian Beach Games 2008 which was supposed to be fun. It was not. It was a disaster for me.

It was alright, it was not too tiring, regular 9 to 6-7 job like normal people, but then again I’m not normal. Yes, oh how I wish to be super normal now. It was Monday to Saturday then in October it became Monday to Sunday… Damn. It was not in the contract… yess? So Indonesian.

I started with high hopes and good spirit, I have a really nice boss, my Creative Director, he was Australian and cheeky… :)  He was really nice and he knows about my condition of lupus from the start, I told him boldly on the phone during the interview and he was fairly accepting it, understands that people with lupus can still have a right to work.

Bali was really nice and quiet, I stayed in Denpasar and it was a whole different attitude than the Holiday Bali Kuta- Legian-Seminyak. Denpasar was just another small city in Indonesia. The transportation is hard, most of them ride a motor bike, man and woman, and no reliable public transportation. I often travel with motor taxi, like ojek with flat rate, 10.000 around Denpasar, 15.000 to 20.000 if going to other area, like Denpasar to Jimbaran. I have some of their private numbers or just call the motor taxi phone number if those “beli” wont answer their phone for some reasons or just goddamn lazy (”beli” is how you call them like “sir” but for young male, like in Java we call them “mas”). The taxi is over-expensive even than Jakarta.

I established my stayed, after few days staying at a good ol’ friend’s at Jimbaran and traveling by motor taxi so far everyday… I got sick by the wind and always “masuk angin” and my late eating habit started this disaster. I moved to a rented room/ kost and I became more irregular to eat so every time I ate late, I was throwing up all night, my blood counts down and I had to stay in bed to recover at least a day. Then I would be able to get up and work again after a day or two rest. My hair started to fall off a lot until I got really stressed out. Every night I prayed so I wouldn’t go bald. At one point, I passed out on my bathroom floor after all night’s date vomiting with the toilet but I got up by myself, wet and all and still nobody there to help… well WTF it was still 3 am and my kost is really individual you you me me (alias lu lu gue gue as Betawi said)…

I went to a doctor in Bali, at first he was positive about how I was and suggesting that I worked happily. After he saw my last condition with some lab’s blood result plus my doctors in Jakarta were panicking about me with my hemoglobin 4 (normally 12-15) and trombosit 3 (normally 150), he sent me to emergency room and I got admitted again in the hospital.

My boss was very nice, he lent me some money for the doctor (as I was stupid forgot to go ATm before) and took me to the hospital on his motorbike. It was fun with his companion until he was gone and left me alone, realized that they had to put that big needle in my vein, oxygen hose in my nostrils and I had to take that metal pole thing every time to the bathroom and anywhere. So annoying.

My body was bruising all over and bleeding was really an issue. I had five bags of fresh blood type A and 15 bags of trombosit. Yes.. it was a vampire weekend party. My sis was really nice as she flew the next morning to be with me. Friends from my Buddhist temple BDI (Budha Dharma Indonesia) were really really nice, they organized blood donation among them for me, as I needed a lot and there were shortage at PMI (Indonesian Red Cross). They had their shift to take care of me when my sister had to flew back to Jakarta. I had an unforgettable birthday at the hospital, they sang happy birthday and celebrate for me, someone they don’t know… but they care so much and treat me very special.

And when the doctors told me to leave Bali immediately because the blood from donor wouldn’t last long in my body, they organized everything, paid my hospital bill, booked ticket, packed my things, shipped the rest, took me to the airport until I got on the plane back home. It was so fast I couldn’t even remember it clearly. I was just sooo relieved that I was back home.

Looking at my parent’s face, I could tell they really worried and trying hard not to cry, staring at me with no hair and nothing else to lose.

It’s just me. It was broken inside and out.

The life I have tried to build was always taken away from me, friends, bosses and people that I have left behind, memories of places and my lusts of life…

It was soon just an archive to me and me to them. Like Facebook. You forget about them but then you saw the picture and oh I know this guy, he used to scratch his balls during math class at senior high. yikes.

And them, will be saying like this ” Once I had a friend that was really pretty and nice but it was terrible, she got lupus and …”  hopefully it was not gonna end that way, you know what I meant.

But life is short. Also human’s memory. Yes, archive is important otherwise there’s nothing to remember us again to people we once knew. Facebook inventor was a genius.

I have nothing more to say. I feel like 74 year old. So tired.