I just finished reading this book Fight Club, have you ever heard about it?

I closed the book and put it down, staring blankly ahead. The hell did I just read?

I smiled because it was a good piece of read. I haven't had my mind boggled like that since the last time I saw the movie adaptation, a long time ago, young and dumb and didn't know better. Now I could see why that was a movie of many's favorite. A cult. I could see the charm back then, but after reading the book, I understand.

On the other hand, I felt a twinge of sadness, because it's over. Honestly I didn't want it to finish reading that quickly, but it was 200-ish pages of excitement and familiarity, action and confusion. What am I saying.

You know the feeling when you've finished a good book and now you're sad to be back to your boring reality? Well.. it's my state now. I know deep inside that a good book shouldn't be a mere escape from my reality, and it's supposed to change my life for the better. But that's just wishful thinking.

I haven't been exactly an avid reader, the most I could do was with comics and light comedy novels, and that's why I was excited to be actually reading a book to the point of finishing it in just a few days. Speaking of which, have I told you about Action Philosophers? Well, it's comic, but I recommend it nonetheless.

I've been trying to read more, because of how bad my attention span gets nowadays, especially now that I don't have classes anymore. I couldn't get through a 15-minutes YouTube video without getting distracted, mainly by my phone. I couldn't get my brain to correspond to my general muscle memory, like when I'm doing things but my mind is wandering elsewhere (or nowhere, it's just dormant).

I've always wanted to be a writer, even now. Doesn't matter what I write, I just typed away. And what better ways to start being a good writer than reading a lot?

Cats Cats Cats

Tonight my rants will be taking a short break and instead I'm going to talk about something important.

Cats.

You heard me right. Cats. Typically furry, carnivorous mammals we constantly bump into in our everyday life. And I'm not complaining. I'm an obvious cat person. I see a cat on the street, I approach it. Brief boop on the nose, a little pet if they're of the friendly kind, and small bits of cat food if I happen to have it on me. Brief encounters with this creature can put me in a good mood, especially the friendly ones.

I have had the experience of owning (owning might not be the precise word) cats in the past. Most of them are dead or missing right now (talk about being a good cat-parent). See, what I mean by owning would be something like seeing them around my house a couple of times, give them food until they're comfortable being with us and decide to take over our front porch. Just... casually... pooping all around the yard. They're basically stray cats that we took into our hands. We don't have a local shelter where we can go and adopt pre-maintened cats, so it's all up to us how to take care of them.

This kind of taking-care-of-stray-cat cycle has been around for quite a long time in my family. We live in a suburban house complex, and there are a lot of stray cats hanging around. We couldn't just feed every single ferals, and considering how territorial cats are, once one or two commonly united cats decided to take over our yard as their kingdom, others just naturally avoid the area. Once we also took a group of abandoned kittens from mom's office to home to be taken care of. They grew up well, but then they decided to wander off elsewhere, one by one. Ungrateful bastards.

smol villa

Oldest cat we have had we named Villa. Male cat, white fur with orange coat around his face and tail. He was born in our house around 2011, with one (or two) sibling(s) four years ago, he's still living with us now although his siblings had moved out. He was named such because during his kittenhood (is that a word) he was really playful, and liked chasing this orange decoration around like a football. Mom's really fond of football, and she suggested that name.

Villa's story is kind of sad, because he was such a friendly and playful kitten, with eyes lit up at round objects rolling around and paws to play with others, but one day he just got... hurt. His front left leg got messed up pretty badly, and he became hostile quickly we couldn't even take him to the vet. He then went incognito for quite a while, but went back with noticeable physical change and attitude. He used to like being pet, now he doesn't even let anyone touch him. He doesn't play with our cats anymore, only around for feeding time, with most of his time outside fighting other strays. He was now the territory master, so at least it's an accomplishment. I'm still feeling guilty we didn't get to take him to the vet, though.

large villa

Anyway, after a few years of having domestic shorthairs (read: mutt) come and go, this rare (is it though?) beauty suddenly appeared out of nowhere, hanging around our neighborhood, meowing. Our maid found her and we feed her. We had no idea where or whose house she could be from, because she doesn't look like our usual mutt. She looked like something out of a pet shop, with relatively long coat of fur, and she was very friendly. She immediately made herself at home at our house. After a brief discussion with brother, we named her Joan.

ma bby

To our surprise, she was toilet-trained. Most of our cats initially dropped their bombs around the yard and then we cover them with sands and kerosene to get rid of the smell. Some managed to take it on the litterbox, but we had to train them first. Joan on the other hand went straight to the back toilet where our washing took place, and managed to pee near the water drain. We only found out after we noticed her walking out of the toilet. She became mom's favorite in an instant.

ma bbyy

Things took a positive turn for Joan. She was the first cat mom was willing to neuter, and didn't mind regularly take to vet (because we know she wouldn't run away like others did). She wasn't a playful one, though, mostly just chilling around. Of all the cats we had, I think it's safe to say that she had the most territorial coverage around the house. She even managed to enter the toilet (which most cats never dared to) and my room (and mom would scold because my brother had fur allergies). She likes chilling in the living room, where she would be immediately greeted by eager petting by my brother and me, or foot petting by mom as if she was a walking furry doormat. A huge improvement, considering mom barely touched most of our cats.

To this day, Joan is still alive and well. I don't see her that much because I've been temporarily moving out to another city to finish my college...

...where I made another cat my pet. Meet Ibeng. (read: e-bank)

meet my newest companion

Ibeng came at a good time, which was during my (hopefully) final college semester where I barely had anything to do other than working on my thesis. Got no class left, so I spend most of time at kosan, writing away, cleaning my room, even took the time to wash a few of my own clothes.. and feeding cats.

But T, how are you keeping a cat at kosan? I'm so glad you asked, my friend. You see, right now I live in a second floor, and the front of my room is an open balcony. Beyond the open balcony is not your average view, but rather, the roofing of the building. The roof was like an intersection for stray cats, and sometimes they stop by to salvage bits of leftover food/trash from the trashbin.

roofing

crime scene

One uneventful night I just had the idea of putting my leftover food on a disposable container and put it on the roof near my balcony. I did this a couple of times and now I have this little shit begging for food every single day. So I just had to put cat food on my list of expenses because how could you say no to that face?

"food plz"

Basically I just feed him outside my room, he hung out for a bit to groom himself and took a nap on my doormat. His visit could be daily, sometimes he doesn't visit for a few days straight. He keeps me company during late nights of typing (or browsing around randomly), leaves, and then goes back in the morning meowing loudly and waking me up for his cereal (cat food). It's nice because he doesn't hang around for too long or get too clingy, and he would leave if he needs to go to the toilet.

nappy nap

It occurs to me to give him a bath because he's very dirty I can't even pet him (usually I use tissue should the temptation become too strong), but his eyes went wide to the sight of water. I once tried washing him with wet cloth; I got scratches and he didn't visit for a week. Oh well.

It wasn't always peaceful, though. Sometimes other stray cats try to eat the food I put outside, and when Ibeng was around, he would taunt them away. Sometimes the stray cat fights other stray cats around the roof, and Ibeng would just watch from afar because I think he thinks he's safe now he got a human companion that would chase the fight away should it become too annoying.

they're fighting, mind you

Of course Ibeng wasn't the only friendly cat in the city where I am right now. They are everywhere. There are cats in my campus, around my kosan neighborhood, on the street where I walk. Wherever it was, I am particularly grateful of the cats that let me pet them and make my days, become remedy of my exhaustion, or just amuse me with their antics.

Moral of the story? I just really like cats.

Reflection.

I have been reading a decent amount of creepypasta, short horror stories, and urban legends. It's funny how I've always been drawn to suspense and mystery narratives, yet I can be so easily scared it's almost paradoxical. Creepy stories often make use of everyday objects: your bed, which under is infested with boogeyman or an entrance to the otherworld; your phone, which the dead friend's girlfriend or recently deceased relative contact you with; and of course, the mirror.

Who hasn't heard of the "bloody mary" urban legend, where if you chant "bloody mary" three times in front of your dark bathroom mirror, the bloodied disfigured woman would come and get you? What about the ritual of using mirror to catch a glimpse of the literal hell, where you put a big mirror to sit in front of past midnight with required tools and few drops of your blood? Or if you're quite imaginative, relating to the stories where your reflection in the mirror is actually a distant entity that would jump out and trap you in the mirror while it takes over your life given the chance?

What about the worst of them all: looking in front of a mirror and seeing something, someone, you can't recognize anymore?

When you do the past midnight-mirror ritual, you need to lit a candle. You do that, and I can bet you the candle is brighter than my eyes. They say eyes are the window to your soul, so what does it mean to see a window that doesn't even reflect you back? You're looking at emptiness. Just a vast space of transparency, not liquid, not solid. It's that inside of a cube you drew indifferently for your geometry or solid state physics homework.

Or maybe it's not emptiness. Maybe it's the numbness of failing to recognize an object.

Imagine living in your head for so long that when you take a look at yourself in the mirror, you think to yourself, "that's not me". Not because you've changed drastically, but because you have no idea of "you" in the first place. Could went from A to Z, from 10 to 21, or turning 22 last month, the reflection still doesn't make sense.

Is it because I failed to know myself? Is it because I lost track of the concept of change that the transition feels surreal?

I know how futile and selfish this kind of observation sounds like. I know it's useless to try and formulate myself. I know there are moments that I reflect and wish I could just say "yeah this is me right now and if it doesn't make sense when I look at myself later it's because things have changed and I'm a different person in this circumstance" and just go about my life. I know I shouldn't be boxing myself in terms, labeling myself psychologically or be scared of being myself.

I'm really amazed how I've made it this far, though. After all, it takes years and years of nurturing myself with sleep deprivation, lack of physical exercises, caffeine chugging, meaningless communication, and vacant consumerism to get to where I am today. I haven't slept last night, and I just finished my first cup of coffee this morning after binge-watching supposedly informative YouTube videos.

There's really no point in writing this. Did you think the beginning of this post would take you to a refreshing tale of horror? No, this is just my usual ranting. I watched The Sixth Sense yesterday and I found out that what I'm ordinarily writing is called "free association writing". If you're looking for horror stories you can check the r/shortscarystories or r/nosleep subreddit. Also, I recommend the Russian Sleep Experiment.

In conclusion, I would like you all to be grateful if you're able to look at yourself in the mirror and not having existential crisis or being obsessed of finding what's wrong with you. Smile at your reflection today, and maybe tomorrow will smile back at you. Take care of yourself and don't make the same mistake I have done.

Cheers,

T.

Isolation.

There are some personal aspects that I prefer to keep to myself, and this is how I cope. Sometimes I smile. Sometimes I don't smile when I really want to. Self-control, I told myself. Whatever it was I had in mind, it was restrained, forgotten, void forever.

Sometimes I nod. I had no idea what they said, but I nodded. I never knew what good I was other than listening, so I nodded. There are so many of them, in a lot of shapes and forms. I found out that I did not even need to listen, I just had to nod, and nod I did, and have been ever since.

Eye contact is a big red light. I keep my sight low and narrow, careful by nature. It drains me and somehow there's a certain danger I could detect. I hated those sunbeam-like entities, charming and loud. I was a shadow, and they hurt my eyes.

She said I plug my ears too much it contorts my reality. Honey, if only you could hear what I heard you would wish you never had them. Noises, not sounds. Screeching, too close, and tangling knots in my brain. I want to scream, but nothing comes out. A little squeak, lost in the crowd.

"Dark in here," I whispered. It looms over and replied, "It keeps me alive."

"Cold, too."

"I like cold." It said, smiling.

And we're friends ever since. I never told anyone. It never wants to go away anyway.

In a sense, yes, I am isolated. I am in a box, yet you never knew. I am locked inside, deaf and dumb.

"You have the key. Unlock yourself out." You would say.

I would, but knowing what's out there, I'd rather starve myself inside. It keeps me company.

Insomniac.

Aku tak bisa tidur, pikirku galau. iPod-ku masih melantunkan lagu pelan dari daftar putar "Sleep" Spotify, volume sedang, dan seharusnya dapat membuatku tertidur. Tetapi aku masih mendengarnya. Suara gemerisik. Dari atas atap. Dari lantai bawah. Dari tali jemuran di luar.

Kamar bisa menjadi tiba-tiba dingin. Aku tinggal di lantai dua yang jendelanya dapat dibuka dan langsung diterpa angin. Jam 2 sampai jam 6 adalah jam-jam kritis untuk jari-jari kakiku. Dan telingaku. Aku mendengar suara angin dan atap seperti kejatuhan sesuatu. Telapak kakiku dingin dan mati rasa.

Ada sensasi yang tidak bisa dijelaskan ketika kamu terlalu sering bangun malam. Dini hari bisa menjadi sangat familiar, sepi dan nyaman untuk berkonsentrasi. Di satu sisi, itu terlalu sepi dan menjadi sangat asing. Aku selalu menjadi sangat sensitif pada suara, pada temperatur, pada bau. Terkadang aku harus berpegangan pada sesuatu untuk meyakinkan diriku sendiri bahwa aku benar sedang bangun. Aku benar-benar mencium sesuatu, merasakan dinginnya angin, atau mendengar bunyi gemerisik yang nyata.

Aku akan mendengar suara seperti orang berbicara, atau berbisik, di lantai bawah, dan aku akan turun. Aku membawa gelas sekaligus untuk mengambil minum, sambil melingkupkan diriku pada selimut yang hangat. Aku mendapati suara nyanyian dari satu kamar di lantai bawah, dan merasa lega karena aku tahu aku tidak gila, dan aku benar mendengar sesuatu.

Aku tidak keberatan dengan chat tengah malam atau dini hari, karena keberadaan seseorang membantuku berpegangan pada kenyataan bahwa aku terbangun, aku mampu bercakap-cakap dan merangkai kalimat secara koheren. Kau tidak bisa yakin akan hal itu ketika bermimpi.

Kau tahu meja kecil yang biasa dibawa anak-anak saat lomba mewarnai? Aku memiliki satu, yang kugantung agar rapi di gantungan tempel di samping meja belajarku, hanya lima senti dari permukaan lantai. Jam 2 pagi, ia terjatuh dan menyadarkanku dari keadaan setengah tidur. Aku tertawa kering dan merasa bodoh. Tiga jam kemudian aku tertidur lelap.

Selalu saja begini. Aku sudah siap tertidur, daftar putar musik menenangkan di iPod pun sudah disetel, walaupun aku masih sulit tertidur dan sudah sejam aku menanti dewi tidur mendatangiku. Aku mendengar suara tempat sampah di depan terjatuh. Terjatuh mungkin bukan kata yang tepat. Dijatuhkan lebih tepat. Bukannya dewi tidur yang datang, malah makhluk kelaparan. Aku mengeluarkan wadah kecil berisi makanan kucing yang tersisa dan menaruhnya di dekat tempat sampah. Kucing liar itu langsung melompat dari tempat sampah dan terdiam di atas pinggiran jemuran menatapku. Aku kembali masuk ke kamar. Aku tertidur lima jam kemudian, setelah menonton beberapa episode anime, menggenjreng gitar dan bernyanyi sumbang.

Aku tak bisa tidur, keluhku pada teman-temanku. Tapi aku pernah berada dalam keadaan seperti ini, beberapa bulan lalu, beberapa tahun lalu. Aku pikir aku pernah menceritakan hal ini di dalam blog. Beberapa minggu penuh ketidakjelasan waktu tidur, dan entah bagaimana lingkaran setan itu berakhir, terlupakan begitu saja. Aku tak pernah ingat kapan siklus kebobrokan jadwal tidur ini dimulai, dan kapan ia tiba-tiba berakhir. Yang jelas saat ini aku sedang berada di dalamnya.

Aku tahu kenapa aku tidak bisa tidur. Aku tahu aku tidak bisa tidur karena aku terlalu banyak memikirkan hal yang tidak dapat kukendalikan, terlalu banyak memikirkan hal yang dapat kukendalikan namun tidak kulakukan, terlalu banyak berpikir, itu yang jelas. Aku tidak bisa menghentikan pikiran-pikiran akan hal-hal buruk yang telah terjadi padaku, pikiran-pikiran seandainya aku melakukan hal yang berbeda dulu, pikiran-pikiran di mana aku dapat menjadi pribadi yang lebih baik dibanding sekarang seandainya dulu aku melakukan hal yang berbeda.

The redundancy of overthinking.

Aku tahu kenapa aku tidak bisa tidur. Aku tidak bisa tidur karena romantisasi insomnia. Aku suka memberitahu kalian kalau aku tidak bisa tidur malam. Aku nocturnal. Aku spesial, aku tidak fungsional, aku aneh. Aku mendengarkan daftar putar lo-fi hiphop dengan ambience midnight karena terdengar keren. Aku membayangkan diriku seperti protagonis dalam cerita Haruki Murakami, menjelajah dinginnya malam dengan jaket dan syal, mendengarkan musik dari iPodnya, mendatangi kafe 24 jam untuk membaca buku dan menyeruput cappuccino panas sembari menghindari kenyataan hidup dan berteman dengan krisis eksistensial.

Aku akan terbangun esok hari pukul 2 siang, menuang diriku semangkuk corn flakes dan segelas teh stroberi, kemudian bertanya-tanya apakah malam tanpa tidur ini akan terulang lagi esok hari. Tanpa tempat untuk dituju, tanpa hal untuk dilakukan, mempertanyakan hal-hal yang tidak penting sangatlah mudah. The privilege of being idle.

Apa kisahmu malam ini, kawan?

You'll Float Too.

I'm floating.

The sky is clear blue. Birds are chirping, thick white clouds hanging around, and I'm still floating. I can't recall the last time I put my feet on the grounds below. View is pleasant up here, and traffic is non-existent. Just like my life.

I've had friends down below, although I'm alone up here. Friends are the only thing that keep me down there. I'll float forever if I don't have them.

Pita was nice. She gave me food and let me stay in her house for a week, but when she got a boyfriend I was kicked out immediately. Her boyfriend didn't want a stranger like me taking advantage of her kind nature. I floated away and wrote Pita a goodbye letter.

Jack was a big fan of music. We met in front of a records store. As we became friends he let me hang out at his place and listen to his collection. Sometimes he invited me to listen to his band playing. He didn't let me stay too long, though. After a few weeks I floated away. I drew a fanart of his favorite album and sent it to him before I left.

Mira was different. She was quiet. So I stayed quiet too. She fidgeted. I stared. I didn't know what was wrong with me, or her. She liked going to a neighborhood cafe and stayed there for hours. She would bring books, or sometimes her laptop. Typing, typing away when she was not reading. She liked that coffee with cinnamon in it... she called it cappuccino, I think?
She bought me a cup of tea. We didn't spoke much, but it felt like home. For some reason, though, one day she just disappeared from the cafe. From the neighborhood. I heard things like she was being taken away by her family to marry some guy. What's a forced marriage? I didn't know what to do, so I floated. I still wonder how cappuccino tastes and what a forced marriage is.

Jon was famous, but not that famous. I found him in a minimarket, and he bought me a sportsdrink. He was an endorser, whatever that meant, so it was practically free for him. After he bought me that drink, a few people crowded around him asking for selfies, whatever that meant. One of them asked me to take their pictures. After they were done, Jon left. I drank the whole bottle and floated away. The man in side the minimarket yelled at me for littering, whatever that meant.

I'm still floating. The sky is turning darker. Sunlight isn't as hot as it was a few moments ago. I look down, searching for shelter. Below is just a neighborhood; all occupied house. I decide to flow downwards, and end up in front of a small store. The thunder starts.

Nick's his name. He's also stuck in the rain. He doesn't talk much, just like Mira. He plays with his phone, and fiddles with his helmet. I stare. I look at the sky.

Oh how I wish to float right now.

Morning Coffee and Flash Updates

Sedang mood berbahasa Indonesia hari ini, so imma give flash drabbles-like updates on my life in bahasa Indonesia.

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Hair-Dryer

Aku akhirnya membeli hair dryer, tidak hari ini sih, tapi akhir pekan lalu. Lalu merasa cewek banget. Seumur-umur 22 tahun hidupku sepertinya aku tak pernah terpikir untuk menggunakan perangkat pengering rambut ini, selain setelah potong rambut, yang mana yaa sudah termasuk di ongkos potong dan bawaan dari tempat pangkasnya. Masa pulang-pulang rambut masih basah.

Pasalnya dari jaman Suju belum nge-boom di Indonesia sampai BTS naik daun worldwide, rambutku selalu model pendek ala-ala boyband Korea, jadi kalau mau keramas dan mengeringkan rambut gampang. Pakai sampo seupil macem krim malam pun tak masalah (oke ini terlalu dramatis, mungkin tak sesedikit itu), mengeringkan tinggal di-bwet bwet bwet sepuluh menit pakai handuk eng-ing-eng siaplah ku menyambangi Timezone terdekat (lho? bukannya kuliah?).

Sekarang berbeda. Aku mulai memanjangkan rambut. Enggak ada maksud apapun, spontan saja, tidak bahkan terbesit pikiran "ah, pengen manjangin rambut", hanya saja tidak mengalokasikan otak untuk memikirkan model potong rambut. Mungkin efek iklim Bandung yang ademm, sehingga tidak merasa kegerahan meskipun terjadi perpanjangan rambut yang biasanya di Balikpapan walaupun infinitesmal langsung terasa. Mungkin juga efek tidak kuliah dan tidak banyak kegiatan (ketauan penganggurannya deh), jadi tidak merasa terbebani kalau harus meluangkan waktu lebih banyak untuk mencuci rambut dan mengeringkannya.

Jadinya kalau habis mandi plus keramas, 5 jam bisa habis deh cuma buat alasan 'mengeringkan rambut', padahal sambil leyeh-leyeh main tetris dan browsing YouTube ga jelas (kapan belajarnya woi?). Dengan rambut yang (relatif) panjang, lebih rawan gatal, sehingga harus lebih sering dicuci, dan walhasil, lebih banyak waktu yang dialokasikan untuk... mengeringkan rambut *soundtrack Korobeiniki terdengar dari kejauhan*. Jadi, kalau tiba-tiba ingin keramas, rencana keluar kosan batal sudah. Mandi jam 10 (bukan kebo, kalo lebih pagi dingin tauk..), keringnya baru jam 5 sore, akhirnya batal keluar untuk beli makan siang atau ke lab kampus dengan alasan rambut masih basah. Yeuuu...

Sekarang aku ingin mengubah itu! Dengan hair dryer Panasonic EH-ND11 berkekuatan 400 watt ini akan kukompres 5 jam yang sia-sia itu ke dalam 10 menit yang berarti, dan 4 jam 50 menit sisanya untuk melakukan hal yang lebih produktif! Seperti... seperti... apa, ya? Hmmm....

*tiduran lagi main Tetris*

Setidaknya rambutku sudah kering dan wangi.

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Tetris

Masih berkaitan dengan tulisan sebelumnya. Aku demam Tetris. Orang aneh, memang, Tetris mainan dari jaman jebot malah demamnya sekarang. Aku sampai pusing-pusing gara-gara terlalu banyak bermain. Ada kali mahasiswa tingkat akhir sakitnya bukan karena skripsi, tapi karena kebanyakan main Tetris *kompres mata*. Dan ini baru-baru saja. Mungkin tidak lama lagi aku akan bosan, tapi aku tak tahu kapan akan bosannya... wong merem aja bayangannya masih itu kotak-kotak Tetromino berjatuhan dan melebur saat komplit sebaris. Aaagghh.

Aku tidak menyebut diriku gamer, tapi memang dasar millenial yang hobinya berselancar di internet dan browsing tak tentu arah, aku nyasar di segmen review video games YouTube. Pertamanya sih adikku mengenalkanku dengan lelucon ala ala meme yang ternyata berasal dari saluran YouTube yang bernama JonTron. Video-videonya sangat menarik dan menghibur bagiku yang bahkan sebelumnya tak tahu apa itu Banjo-Kazooie, atau kalau ternyata Mario Games itu banyak macamnya dan tidak hanya untuk satu console saja.

Jadilah dari video JonTron aku menemukan kalau ternyata banyak juga channel yang membuat webshow mereka sendiri yang mengulas video games, dari yang bernuansa komedik sampai serius, dari yang menampilkan setengah-setengah hingga Let's Play-ers yang menampilkan mereka bermain dari awal sampai akhir game.

Hingga aku menemukan channel yang dinamai brutalmoose. Ian, yang punya channel, kebanyakan mengulas video game yang tergolong 'retro' (bahasa kerennya jadul yak), tapi baru-baru ini dia memulai serial baru yang mengulas TV show dan film jadul, dan mengulas snack jadul jaman dia kecil. Maksudnya yang masih dijual sampai sekarang yaa, bukan cemilan dari taun 1990an dia simpen buat di-review *huuu garing ah*

Kenapa jadi merembet ke sini ya... Intinyaa dia membuat satu video yang judulnya "Top 5 Time-Consuming Games" dan menampilkan salah satunya adalaahh... yaaa... Tetris (dia taruh di #2 btw). Habis menonton itu aku langsung tergerak untuk main Tetris sambil berpikir-pikir aplikasi game Tetris masih ada nggak di GooglePlay. Ada sih banyak di GPlay, tapi yang bikin aku kepincut adalah versi yang EA buat untuk dimainkan di iOS. Tadinya aku khawatir akan banyak ads di dalam aplikasinya, tapi ternyata enggak tuh! *biasanya wifi-nya dimatikan soalnya hihi*

Lalu mekanisme kendali yang awalnya bikin aku agak wagu karena model tetromino-nya di-slide dan bukan dikendalikan pakai button seperti versi jadul di gameboy, malah bikin seru karena memang layarnya kan touchscreen dan tidak ada tombol fisik lagi, sehingga lebih akurat. Aku mainkan versi Android yang pakai button jadul di layar malah tetromino-nya kemana-mana karena aku salah pencet tombol dan engga terasa. Kesimpulannya adalah, emang Ian ga salah menyebut Tetris termasuk game yang time-consuming. Duh mas, setidaknya bikin warning terhadap kesehatan sekalian dong (siapa yang salah hah)... *masih kompres mata*

Kalau penasaran sama BrutalMoose Channel

Tetris yang Bikin Demam

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-Akan dilanjutkan nanti karena sekarang kopi susunya sudah habis-