Random Tunes is On! Soundcloud, 10:17 AM, and 'That' Cute Girl Laugh

I like meeting new people, working with them, and knew how the way they think. It's like a palette. You combine distinctive colors into one harmonious painting. Spoke itself as one meaning. Like the sounds you hear. The drums roll, the guitar strum, thumping bass, human voice became a glorious song.

You meet different people from different backgrounds work as one with one goal. How sweet it is for a lover. How they came from different human beings, and met, agreed in one same goal. Work harmonious, support each other, complete each others words while the other lost it's words.

But meeting new people sometimes harder when not everyone you met doesn't open to new people.
When you meet new people, and you felt afraid, and judged them before you don't even try to know them. How horrible way to treat people when we live in one earth, and need to socialize. Because we are social beings.

I need to stop now. Lotta works ahead

Rimshots are for The Jazzy Soul

Some people came with the gifted ability of communicating
some people are meant with with someone
it's all written on the stars
The stars collided and made a new ration every cycles

Some people are meant to be together,
some people has their crawling value
and they stick with losers.

Life ain't getting better with a couch, TV, and Pop Corns
it gets better with Blood, Sweat, and Tears
you've got to remember the spinning wheel
it goes around

Are you busy because he was. Oh don't really mind it busy is his middle name

Today's topic is about recognition. Recognition from family, people around you, larger area, and for every single people wants is the world.
I know someone who have no feeling at all. Never say tired nor exhausted she always do things with all the devotion of her mind and body. Something bothers me when she talks about her profession she always think that being a doctor is a must and she'll struggle doing that no matter what. "This is for my mother and father" she said. "This is my attempt to make them proud" i respect that.

Another one is someone i know really close, whom happens to have a lawyer father. He promised his father one day that he'll be greater lawyer than him and i always want to see him rise to the sky and when he pops out on the TV i could said "That's my friend" . But he was mistaken about what he wants, he wasn't sure about what  he wants up until last year. He's studying art in Bandung now, and his dad very proud of him.

What happens in those two stories are sometimes we are mistaken about what we feel and what we really want. Sometimes we are mistaken about why, and what. Sometimes we are mistaken about possessing and loving, sometimes we are not sure about what we really, really feel but if we follow our emotion, it might drives you to the wrong path.

Sometimes i heard my close friends that made high salary and whining about how much they hate what they are doing since when first he decided to go to college, he doesn't really know what we want. He wants to be recognized by his family because he can really manage to do it. He's accountant graduate, but his passion is to draw and design.

I was mistaken for a year to be a doctor. But i don't want to wake up in mid 30's and wondering "Holy shit why am i being a doctor!" i don't want to regret of something that I've been struggling and found out some years later that i don't like, have any passion in, love the thing that I'm working on. When i struggle hard to like something, that's when i said to myself "This isn't your thing". It's okay to fail some subjects, just keep focus on what you like and what you love and people will recognize you from what you are able to do.

Happy finals my friends!

Deer thorn's on the hallway. Oh that's young Steve's!

Intimidation of intimacy consumes the very core of myself. I have wondered why it fades away is it by the wind or the sound of your voice. You're the one to blame for this state of unsolicited desires, voiceless screams, crying heart. Vaguely wanderer I am or am I?

Terrible, terrible night.

Not an easy feeling to be left out. No one wanted to be in this position.
I remember that Sunday afternoon I have nothing to do instead talking with people. I love to talk, get to know people and know what do they do everyday. Do they go to school, how was it? How they eat, what kind of food do they eat at their area and stuff.
Trying to knoe there's a world out there as we speak as we took a leak.
And so things are terribly wrong when inexplicably occurence collided. Such a shame. Such a huge mistake.
I tried to get the meaning of all events. Everything connected and at one point they met. They crossed each other. Like an organized thread.
Things I don't know, things I love. I think I'm going to understand and do whay I think I was born to do that. And do the things I love.
I don't know what's happening to me and all of the events that happens.
I think I'm too tired to get it.
Fuck

I Saw That Rotten Heart of Yours. So...It Wasn't a Fairy Tale.

Maggots, dismembered body parts, unfathomable dismay.
Life's a roller coaster they said. And words were fade away.
None of things one can do to reconstruct the pain one caused. As lies has been spoken, conspiracy of the absolute truth.
The noisy screaky whiny ghost troubles minds of the phosporus neuron.
Specially tailored currency paper apparatus causes the twin collide and burn into ashes.
I can recall the most vivid memory of the designated moment.
The designated moment been twisted, bended and called "flaw"
And words... shall not prevail.

The Tattoo Artist And The Weed He Breathe.

I hate to accept that a part of growing up is the inability of everyone to accept you as a friend. It's now a choice of stranger or someone with a special lust.
Growing up in this society makes you lost yourself, your sanity. You focuses on the world out there.
The "world out there" is the world that you can think there would be a better life for you. In that "world" you can be someone else with another name, also change your ID cut your hair, find a girl, tell your stories.
Being a grown up is all about laughter in a conversation with a tint of flirtation. Getting laid on the weekends, getting bored with routine, and eats just to satisfy your stomach.
Growing up is having people around you smoking while you yourself struggling to bear with the poisonous smoke. It's not the social smoker. It's killing yourself slowly just to talk with your friends.
Growing up is all about forgetting what used to meant a lot to you, left it behind and moving on with something new. It's a cycle that happens over and over.
Growing up is about losing your best friends. Some died, some get married, some got a job, and some going to somewhere you can't pronounce.
Growing up is all about get to know people, and stick with them for some fun.
Growing up is like a pattern. You work hard everyday like a robot, and rest on the weekends.
Growing up is all about getting chicks and having sex, get drunk, sip drugs and forget what happened yesterday.
Growing up is about struggling to get recognition from the rest of the world.
Growing up is an option, age is just a number.
Growing up is to survive.