Pens and Pen[]s

I went to my mother's house last night. I brought her my graduation picture, the one she could hang on her wall and be proud of. Well, no doubt. She's a proud mom.

This morning, I scrambled my old things. I raped my old room. And I missed it a lot. Even the morning air that greeted me when I woke up: the old scent of newly washed laundry, that cold December air.

After a good breakfast, I went back to bed. No, not to sleep but to plan my weekend. Hell. I've got loads of work to do. And so I made this list of to-do things: study, review, read, work, etc etc. And I also made a to-buy list: notebook refill, pen refill, etc etc.

After some time of listing and listing (things I know I can't even follow), I looked for some stuff that I can bring to my Bhaus. I found Boji's calculator (finally, I borrowed this from him long time ago), my old pink comb, green notebook where most of my scribbles lay dead, one animated mug, one yellow mug that I can't remember where and when I bought it and that I even own it, one orange square glass container with green magnetic butterfly attached on its metal rim, and one blue pencil case.

And talking about pencil case, I have more than half a million pens. Exaggeration is rightful this time. Some of them already depleted with ink, but most of them are still usable. They come in different colors: pink, violet, green, brown, of course black and red and blue (the usual pen colors) and even gold and silver. I have collected them since the day I've decided to become a writer (that was hundred years ago). Some of them I bought, some of them were from friends, some were given by companies as promotional materials (or promotional pens, please excuse this).

Anyway, I packed the things I thought I'd missed a lot and will do a great job filling up my room in Kamuning. And then I left.

And because it's been a century since he last asked how I am doing, I've decided to call him. Actually, there'd been a fight in my head first whether or not I should be the first one to ring. But then I missed him so much that I let the pride sunk down. And so I called him. I shouldn't have. I could have save myself from further disappointment and disorientation. Anyway, I still love him.