Rather, it's below:

Remember the hardest riddle on the Net that is NotPr0n? All right. Well, see, you gotta solve this one to know what this entry's real title is.

Or you can simply click on More. Right, whichever suits you.

Anyway. Home is where the heart is. Whatever that means. I picked it simply because it sounded cool.

The other night I had a chat with Bondol, who told me she had lived in the same house for the last 20-something years, virtually her entire life -- never reveal someone else's age without permission, BTW.

I myself have lived in... Well, we'll get there in a moment -- basically a lot of houses throughout the years. And it's always difficult for me to imagine living in the same place all my life. How does it feel, guys? Did you ever compare old photos and marvel at how different your house looked in each of them? Or perhaps one morning you woke up, walked to a certain section of the house, and were surprised to learn that the layout had changed unbeknownst to you?

Yeah, that's funny. Except that it did happen to a friend. Honest.

So, kids, today's topic is all the houses I've lived in. That's right, 'cause I'm all about me. I foresee this'll take a while, so you might wanna slip into something more comfortable. You know, I'm still waiting to use that line in real life.

I was born in Panti Wilasa, Semarang. Yet, my parents were living in Surabaya then. So they brought me home to my grandparents' on Jalan Baterman Besar. The first years of my life were kinda blurry -- what do you expect, I was just been born -- but from what I gathered, I lived mostly with my grandma until I was about three. My dad and mom were working very hard -- squeezing oranges, I assume -- to make ends meet in Surabaya.

Our house in Wonorejo, Surabaya was very small. And I mean very small. It had a small living room, a small bathroom, and a small bedroom. In fact, it wasn't really a house, simply sections of a bigger house. My parents paid monthly rent for these three rooms.

It wasn't long before my dad was relocated to Medan. My mom quit her job and they took me to live in a two-floor house on Jalan Bakau. It wasn't nearly as big as "two-floor" suggests, though. At least the staircase was fun, the cause of my numerous falls. Once my dad mentioned that families with kids usually had their staircases made of wood to lessen the impact of a fall. At that time, however, having had one brush too many with our wooden staircase, I wasn't too convinced it was better.

I had my fourth birthday in Medan, in the Tadika Puri Playgroup -- where I was once branded a trouble kid. You know why? Because I couldn't keep my trap shut, how 'bout that! One of the teachers was kind enough to give me private extra lessons at home -- our home -- to keep me occupied. I now don't think "kind" and "lessons" go hand in hand, but then I found it quite fun. Kids.

My adventure in Medan -- with its motored becaks and notorious premans -- didn't last a year. We did catch Superman at Istana cinema, after which I confidently declared red as my fav color. That statement was responsible for the red-colored things coming my way in the subsequent few years.

We moved back to Surabaya, this time to a house in Gayung Sari. IIRC, it was in the outskirt of the city, near Sidoarjo. We had quite a few rice fields in the area and every now and then I found dead snakes in the middle of the road. Later I learned that some of the "snakes" were actually just their shed skins. Here, my first kid brother was born. Not actually in the house -- stop being so literal.

I went to the nearby TK Mekar Sari, every morning dropped off by my dad, every afternoon picked up and sent home by a trusted tukang becak whose name eludes me at the moment. Ah, got it -- it was Pak To. Very distinctive, I know.

If the first brother was born shortly after we moved in, the second was delivered not long before we moved out. I was seven when our parents bought their first house, in Darmo Indah. It was in a nice neighborhood and I made a lot of friends. Four to six in the evening was the time I looked forward to everyday. That was when I was allowed to go out and play -- plenty of kites, marbles, and Voltus V. Oh, while we're at it, don't forget to check out my cool bike. My dad bought this bike as a surprise for my eighth birthday. Thanks to this one-of-a-kind bike, almost everyone in Darmo Indah knew me by sight. "Oh, that kid with that big bicycle?"

We moved to Semarang two years later. It was in the middle of the academic year and I found it tough to say goodbye to my neighborhood friends and schoolmates. Then I discovered the new surroundings even tougher to adapt to. It seemed that whatever they taught in Semarang was always more advanced than that in Surabaya. And that Bahasa Daerah subject was a killer! Would knowing what the jasmine petal is called in Javanese get you a high-pay job? I don't think so, either.

Our house was on Jalan Panggung Mas Utara, again rented. For whatever reason, it didn't interest me much to make new friends from around. I had only my schoolmates to hang out with. Fortunately, some of them lived in the same neighborhood. It was to this house that one day our dad brought home a new VCR. Finally, our own player. Soon after, I found myself a fav video rental store called Tamara -- Tambak Mas Utara. Our parents were very strict when it came to watching videos, only on weekends. And only 2-3 cassettes. So you'd have found me riding that cool bike every Friday afternoon to Tamara to rent 2-3 cassettes of Megaloman, Go Shogun, Lion Maru, and what have you -- we'd finished Voltus by then.

Barely eight months removed, my dad relocated again -- to Jakarta this time. Another rented house, in Cipinang Indah. Man, I tell you, Jakarta was almost too much to take for a 9-year-old. The first thing I noticed upon entering the capital was its traffic. It was really double that of Surabaya's. Our house on Jalan Nusa Indah overlooked a playground with a basketball court and plenty of empty field. Again, I wasn't too keen on making new friends. Too overwhelmed by these Jakartans.

I did make 2-3 good friends eventually. And found my love for basketball. It just happened. One day somehow I ended up with a basketball in my hands. Before I knew it, I had started dribbling it around and it felt so natural. Of course, it was just a glimpse, nothing much think of. It was not until a few years later that I started sleeping with a basketball in my bed -- we'll come to that part a lil bit later.

Entering the last academic year of my SD era, our family moved yet again -- to our second own house. It was in Pulo Gebang. If you don't know where it is, never mind, suffice to say it is damned far. By then I had spent my SD days in three different schools. Which was nothing compared to my brother, who had gone to three different TKs and two different SDs -- and it would have to be two more schools for him before graduating from SD.

The house in Pulo Gebang was great. I had my own basketball rim. I can tell you that keeping a basketball hoop in good conditions is no easy task. Every few months you'd have to re-tighten the screws and sometimes even replace the backboard. Thankfully, by then we came to know a reliable tukang named Bang Kus. Last year when I went home, I met him. Older yet still as reliable according to my mom.

It was here in the Pulo Gebang house that I started sleeping with a basketball. Well, to be precise, a basketball, a guitar, a clipboard, and many other things you won't expect lying permanently on a bed. I also developed an almost unhealthy appetite for radio plays -- and just about everything Radio SK. When I finally had my own room -- having that many things in bed helped speed up the process -- I went straight into it upon reaching home, only emerging for food, drinks, and bathroom breaks. Oh, and MacGyver, of course.

We endured the unbelievable traffic commuting to the city and back to Pulo Gebang for almost eight years -- at that point my longest so far living in one house -- before my dad had enough and moved us all to Pulo Asem. It was a nice change for me, who until then had usually spent three hours standing on buses, going home from Depok. It got even better months later when the new P52 service was unveiled. Of course, history shows that shortly after that unexpected gift from PPD, I found my lazy behind a kos in Kukusan and -- as if that had not been convenient enough -- after a few months, had my dad buy me a motorcycle. Human nature; always lazy to the bone if we can help it.

Anyway, it was my second two-floor house and it was here that at a long last our family settled. Or, rather, our parents settled. As detailed, I somehow got myself into this neighboring country and stayed. And it's been, wait... College Green, Choa Chu Kang, Depot Road, Clementi, another Clementi... five (!) houses before this current place.

Boy, if you haven't tired yourselves up to this point, I certainly have. When I started this entry, the plan was to write about all houses I've lived in, including those in this city. How crazy was that! Oh well, as one of Bapak Bison's motivational posters -- the one in our bedroom in Kukusan -- says on the skyscraper that sways in strong winds, we must be able to accommodate changes and not stand rigid all the time -- or something like that -- we shouldn't stubbornly follow a plan just for the sake of following a plan.

In other words, I'm back to my usual lazy mode and wrapping up this entry.

[Update: turns out this is the seventh longest entry ever; no wonder I'm tired.]

Oh, keeping up with the topic, I'm going home for a week. And -- for now, at least -- "home" means Pulo Asem, Jakarta. Because there's where the biggest part of my heart still is, never mind the many houses I've spent my life living in.

Current music: Dream Theater - Overture 1928
Current mood: happy