Amazing fact #1: no one has created a "Fasilkom UI" group on Facebook.

Hmm, OK, so perhaps I should create one. It would need a banner, of course. Something to tell the world that we Fasilkomers know how to work our (most likely pirated) Photoshop just as well as the next blogger. A makara would be great 'cause we're oh so original.

Amazing fact #2: Google couldn't give me a single good makara image. What?! All right, all right, calm down. So I tried Multiply, 'cause, you know, it's a good source for copyrighted materials. Not this time, though.

Nah, I'm not gonna start my very own Ogebness series. Although, do you think it will outsell the For Dummies series? Just imagine, The Ogebness of Hyperion, The Ogebness of Microsoft Outlook, The Ogebness of the Indonesian President, The Ogebness of Jehovah's Witnesses, The Ogebness of The Da Vinci Code.

Oh, and since no self-pimpin' is ever enough, The Ogebness of Dodol Surodol.

While we're on the subject of ogebness, what is it with all these earthquakes of late, huh? Until recently, I was never one sensitive to 'quakes. People like my mom -- because I tend to slip her into conversations, remember -- would look at each other and say, did you feel that tremor? And I would be like, huh, tremor? What tremor? They would then be all, oh, that's OK, we know you're not a sensitive guy.

I tend to slip my mom into conversations. Most often by virtue of her insisting that I bring back tons of food and snacks to this city or asking when I would marry my current GF -- or when I'm GF-less, when I would start dating again -- or complaining that I treat my parents' as a hotel -- a hotel with tons of food and snacks, that is. While at times this may have had her near the level of Neil Humphreys's mum's, I have nothing but respect and love for her. Even as she screams at us to wake up and take a shower at six for a mass that's to start at nine.

I, however, rarely mention my dad. When I do talk about the man who has brought me into this world, it's usually in relation to the village in Bali he grew up in or his inevitably approaching retirement -- part of the reason why I choose this tiny dot on the map is its proximity to my family. Anything happens and I can be back in Jakarta within 2-3 hours. Although, given our capital's magical qualities, driving home from the airport may double that.

After leeching for three weeks at Panda Residence, I'm finally moving out today. A great place -- with a rent to match -- awaits.

Here's the room I've been sleeping in -- well, most nights anyway: