I'm officially in uni now.
Defining my university orientation week: badly tanned (or worse, burned) skin, black and blue with bruises, and thousands of little (both significant and insignificant) things to remember. It is funny how a week feels like forever, but when it is over, you'll look back and stop and stare and wonder: I've done that? It's over now? So, this is the end?
Well.
It all started with seven dots and a dash (not in that particular order) and coordinates that points the city Michigan. Then, it was endless night without sleep with red and blue paper waiting to be intertwined, and unending supplies of laughs (and cries of frustation). Seventeen clueless motherfuckers and a furious mother hen trying to set us straight. Our person in charge must be a saint in another life, because he suffered through us and his temper survived. (Well, he is not that nice, but at least he never went Hulk-like, which is quite possible, given the circumstances.)
So, this is Henry Ford:
Henry Ford is a team you wanna hang out with, but wanna do assignments without. In a team, we are proli that one guy that just sat there while the rest of the group is frantically trying to do everything. It is uber fun with these guys, but Henry Ford aren't the nerd friends material, totally not those people you can ask to tutor you, or that reliable someone whose notes you can borrow when you nod off in class. You can count on Henry Ford when you're looking for some fun, or shoulders to cry on.
In a nutshell, we are nice, but very lazy.
Like nearly every time I made friends with someone, I can't pinpoint the exact time I fall for them. It could be from the very first `hi!` or the very first awkward smile, or the time spent together, exclaiming silly monikers (oleng, pemulung, bidadari, daur ulang, tukang becak, profesor joget, bidadari jahat—everything, every single one of them). Maybe it started with calling the wrong names, or remembering the wrong faces, or spending too many hours together that you unintentionally remember the exact timbre of their voices. Maybe the shared jokes fueled it. Maybe the laughter sealed it.
This whole orientation thing—from the preparation, the days, to the ending—left me with more things to think about (yes, it is still my hobby) and more pondering time in between assignments and me maintaining my barely there social life. More what ifs. More meanings to define.
And yes, this is my answer to my own musings: We have done that, it's just started, and this is the beginning.
(P.S.: WHAT IS GRAMMAR. My English has gone rusty.)
