Recycling
The Ninth Network
“Young time should be used to learn what is important for your old age, Narak. No matter how valuable the thing you are currently looking at and looking at, is spending a lot of your time in terms of vanity that may not have an end, it is because you alone make it complicated. Restrained by your own attitude that you cannot control by pithing.”
“Young time should be used for useful things and make your youth as a stepping stone to keep trying to improve your abilities, skill and continue to develop to awaken the potential that is still hidden in you, if I may laugh in front of you now. Then I'll laugh louder than anyone. I just heard that you are having trouble expressing your feelings to one of the women you told me about. Is that all the trouble? For me it was just a trivial matter, even it almost made you like a person who had no education and did not reflect the attitude of a student. Missing the woman at all times and often makes you negligent at certain times. You should be able to get through all this with a tough attitude.”
“If you miss him and even love him so much, why do you still want to be burdened by that feeling? Love and hate are two feelings that are always there, can be side by side. When the love is over, the sweetness will be gone. Sometimes some people face the worst phase, even some people call it the most cursed phase in his life is the hatred that appears on him. Imagine that.”
“Your youth is a golden age that could determine the end of your life will be like what? Then don't spend that time just for the second feeling between love and hate. Try to think more mature there are how many women besides her?”
“Always. Love the person you love with reasonable limits, without twisting you understand it. Between friends, family and others, sometimes that is the essence of true love, loving each other and giving the best behavior to our loved ones.”
“This is my sentence for you, love matters can be sometimes at any time. There's something in this world that you can't just get. The science in your head you will not get, except by learning.”
“How long did you spend in 24 hours? It all proves the quality of a person to develop day by day. I give this advice to you just as most parents give advice to their children.”
That was a long talk that was described directly by his father Martin Sirakanjana or more comfortably I called the man in black before. Along with the passing of the car that was swerving in my eyes. Those words echoed within the contents of the head and now that I was daydreaming looking at the streets, the corpse fell silent for a moment thinking about something that even I could not understand more deeply.
I want to brush off some wrong words from him. But, for what? Never mind, I know about my own life, but I'll finally be grateful for everything in my life.
His faint smile was looking at me, all of which I still remember. “Narak, you want to know the effort? The struggle of a young man's life is to explore his potential. Dig out the great potential buried in your soul right now and about love, forget it for a while or better. You are more entitled to understand a science than busy with things that are not useful.” For a moment he laughed with the volume of the sound that I thought he deliberately set the volume, let there be a cool impression.
A voice that is not loud, even barely making a sound. Maybe I misjudged it, it was just a smile.
“I'm not laughing at you, Narak. When you think in your mind that I laugh at you. Then I can confirm everything that you did not accept with the advice I gave.”
No, I took all the advice he gave me. It's just about the longing I'm experiencing, it's all pure without my will. And if I look into my days, I don't always forget to do my job as a student. Dozens of note sheets have filled every reference I wrote myself without hesitation working on it, without asking others for help.
Written in thai. The language at that time was burdensome for me in learning it. It is true, the so-called inner potential is like waking up a sleeping lion. As he made a sound, dozens of animals were pounced upon and found that he would feed on science. In short the belly of the lion likened to the head will become filled with science. The energy moves, the brain screams and both must continue to be there to fill the day-to-day time and explore more fields to master. A field if accompanied by a solid base will remain upright, even though the wind blows trying to knock it down.
My goal is to be a writer. Long ago, when I was a kid. Dreams have been around for a long time. Along with the Rhyme.
We both conveyed each other's ideals in the classroom that day. Football players as my entertainment to him.
“Cita-citaku wants to be a novel writer. At that time I will be famous throughout the universe as a talented writer.” My voice vibrated with intonation that at that time I deliberately made the best possible.
Laughing at my tone. Yeah—authors of a huge novel that until now could not publish a single book. You can only try to write and start his life with a glance to create a writing like this.
Even he said the manuscript of this novel was repeatedly revised, wanting to perfect the verse in it. Heye? Can writing talent be used? And achieving my dream of becoming a writer?
In fact, I'm not sure because there used to be a lot of script editors to shake their heads when staring at the script I made. Not only logic defects, even he said it read strangely and side to side imagined annoying.
***
“I want to ask you now. How many years have you been writing, heh?” The script editor smirked. Staring at me with the look of a face that I thought at the time was plastered cute.
Same old editor I met that day. Often when I talk to others judge a person by the glance of his gaze looking at me. The way he asked was quite polite and did not make me a clumsy person when dealing with him.
“Oh, not long. I just wrote this script a few weeks ago. I have a lot of inspiration in making it. This is actually an old writing, the umpteenth time I threw it into the trash and made another new one with the same storyline, finally be the script you now hold it.”
At the beginning of the sentence I want to lie and imagine sin. So I tried to explain it in detail so as not to fall into an absolute lie. Actually the manuscript has entered the period of two years, I can not answer that I feel like I will be impressed in his eyes like a stale cake batter trying to cook repeatedly and it is not delicious.
Probably different writing. I hope he doesn't look at me like that which makes me go awry.
The script editor checked more looking at my writing and found a lot of mistakes. I understand it because it is my own handwriting that is a mess.
The script editor in front of me now seemed to sigh “Ya, now I want to ask you again. Before you wrote the script that contains this story, have you ever made a name outline?” The editor asked me.
I shook my head and was far from what I expected. Just hearing it, I just heard it this time, suddenly my forehead automatically frowned. Reflexes themselves mention the word, Eh? The outlet? Whatdoes thatmean? At that time I did not understand.
Reluctant to ask and I think I should look later on in applications that are famous for answering any questions, now the era has entered the digital era and is fairly sophisticated, and, it's just that I rarely want to know things like that. More precisely lazy.
“And this time, I want to ask you again. Have you done any research before you started to decide to write this script? Have you ever determined what the character will be like?” The editor this time had many questions.
Not only that, but there were many like star stars in the sky. Which stunned me for a long time listening.
The discussion was good he explained and took a long time. Summarizing my encounter this time with one of the new editors got the result of a valuable lesson in my life.
Although in the end, the manuscript was rejected with much elaboration of the mistakes I made. Within two years of my writing, I didn't seem to have developed much in this regard.
The editor does not accept a messed up script. If it's just a question of punctuation, it can still be corrected. Another case when the script sheet is chaotic from the storyline, various other things. Ribet and the script editor have the ability and common sense to quickly reject it.
“Please, you'll find another editor. Your story is confusing, even a lot of punctuation is wrong and the words are weird. If I make a complete change to your script. Then I should be the one who bears the title of the author, right?” The editor joked as if familiar to me.
Patting my shoulder said, “You must be excited again for the future, there is still a long time for you to continue to develop into a great writer who can produce work.”
I listen to him with reverence. Out of his room while rubbing a cold face due to the ac of the room. Confused, scratching my head while exhaling, my writing did not give much to success. That is impossible to deny, I remember before when I met one of the crazy script editors who had hit my script.
Since that day my bitter memories repeated when I met one of the crazy script editors, I tried to reconcile the mood for a while after I met one more chance, one more time, again and again the opportunity seemed to come and I could imagine like a drop of dew on the cassava leaves as soon as possible I wanted to touch.
And that day I met one of the different script editors from the crazy editor of the day. The editor of this one script gave his best attitude to me, smiling kindly.
However, the result remains the same. The manuscript was rejected for almost the same reason. Though it was a different script from when I met the crazy script editor who used to smash my script.
The script that he threw down that night I finally burned, right in the street screaming and looking up while trying to eliminate thoughts that are not necessarily the direction of my goal. Indeed, it deserves to be burned and I am not angry or upset about setting it on fire.
The new script I made was like scattering on a storage drive. I continued to do whatever advice the editors had given me that counted three people. Fixing what I had to fix.
A few times after and tried a lot, I continued to submit the manuscript to other editors and the results remained the same, the manuscript was rejected. A few months were missed in the calendar date I had given the circle.
I stepped with one sure step towards my dream all this time, looking at the dream as if I gave a piece of trust and in the end all that is now left in mind.
Yeah—it turns out to be the same. The script was rejected by them.
***
Now my feelings have made peace with all that. In fact, now I try to accept all of that with the airy chest and regarding my abilities I admit I suck when it comes to writing. However, on another occasion later, I arrived with a different storyline than before.
I will always practice and always try to continue to develop the writing, make improvements to myself with whatever I can do for the moment with as much as possible, do my best.
“Narak, what do you think. You didn't answer a single word I said.” That black-clothed person appeared towards me in the mind of my mind as it currently loomed into the past realm.
Stand tall with his good fight. That's him, a slightly raucous voice, plus also with his cool-ass style that I want to immediately dab. Eh? Joking. How dare I face him who has a stocky body and all that can be seen on his wrist. One fist, one fist. Maybe my hand will break.
Previously he said hello and spoke in thai language that I can understand the meaning of his words and I wrote using Indonesian so that it is easy and easy to understand. Tumben, I felt a little astonished when I heard that, that black-clothed person took out another thai language from his habit of speaking to me.
“Hey, why you?” She asked. Still in Thai I think it's surprising.
Then he shook my body. The more I wonder and ask myself, what's wrong with him?
“Narak! Narak! Narak!” He said my name repeatedly, for some reason my lips now seemed to be unable to speak.
THE PLAQUE!
One slap I felt landed on my cheek. I rubbed it and woke up from the daydream that had been ensnaring me all along. My eyes are normal and it feels like I just woke up.
And gosh? I was half-ashamed to find out and looked directly in front of me that the person who had spoken earlier and mentioned my name three times. It turned out not to be the person in the black suit, but a female figure.
It was Martin Sirikanjana standing in front of me and he was the one who slapped me in the face. Gosh gosh? I didn't expect that and now I'm the one who went awry, not even knowing anything. Busy daydreaming and fantasizing overshadowed the past and looked at the figure of his father who said such things to me.
Ah. Almost forgot, I should have called him a man in a black suit to impress cool, I said before. I just now remember that the man in black had previously darted with his car on the road there. How can I now have a picture of her shadow, her speech and her face as real as before me. Gosh gosh? It was obviously just khalayan.
Thankfully, Martin Sirakanjana slapped me and thanks to that he woke me from this soul-trapping daydream, even though my cheek now clearly hurt like a bee stung.
But I still thank you.
