we'll go, we'll go just where we want to. we won't let the others bleed us dry

I had my last exam for this semester yesterday, so now I can breathe and stop thinking for a while. In a few months I could be facing a new world of the so-called real life in front of me, or I could be vomiting from hearing and typing the words feminism, identity, multiculturalism, or naturalism all over again. Both are disturbing, but I'll still have to choose. I've thought and gone cuckoo about it, and I've decided that I won't think anymore of it for at least a week or two. I'm putting my mind in a hiatus.

Anyway. The best way to celebrate the unshackling of my brain? By going on a road trip with both my gengs. Yes, I went to Bandung yesterday with the genggong and the geng-ngong. See, Ingga invited me to come to this jazz event that he masterminded. I thought, why not. I asked the most aksi girls in the gang (ahem, B and R). Surprise, surprise, they actually agreed. Bune even sort of rescheduled her get-together with her friends. That's rare.

So, off we went in Bangun's Kijang. Me, Bune, Pedhe, Rozelle, Bangun, and Ebonk. When was the last time of that, I can't even remember. The trip was fun! I mean, with anybody else, it would be a literally pain-in-the-ass two hours ride. But I was with them and the stupid stuff (people-shuffling in the car in the middle of Bangun's speeding on the highway, formed a girlband and had an interview...), so it was all woo-hoo.

Let's say I won big on a jackpot machine for being with BunPedRozBangBonk at the same time, I won a bigger jackpot by seeing Ingga. A rendevouz with the long-missed Kacank and Ari didn't hurt either. Seriously, it was worth the jazz music my ears failed to comprehend. By the by, seeing one of my friends reuniting with her ex last night was aww-inducing. I couldn't help thinking that they belong together (I know, such a hallmark thing to say) nor could I help giving the evil eye to anyone who stood in the way. Heheh. Anywho, what's a night out without a karaoke session, right? So we visited Nav Plaza Dago or something and sang our asses off. Too bad Ingga, our #1 Batak artist, couldn't come.

Finally, at 3 am in the night... morning... wee hours... whatever, we all went home. Safe and sound. And very tired. I didn't want the night to end, it was like a gigantic fluffy pillow. Comfortable. But well, yeah, it did.

Well, that's about it for my feel-good report, until next time.