PROLOGUE
Before I tell you what does my name means, allow me please to quote William Shakespeare’s words.
“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
Absolutely I don’t understand those words mean in deep. When I was in junior high school, as the English class arrived, my classmates and teachers called me carrot in the introduction chapter of English lesson. That is the reason why I hate English and also I want to apologize about my bad structure of English—hope you unfeel sick reading and could understand it.
I was born on June, it was raining heavily in the morning. When I just got out of my mom, my crying is more louder than the roar of thunder and our roars make my grandfather more anxious, he took off his glasses and put it on a chair, and moments later his glasses were cracked, his wife accidentally sat on it.
Through the point of view of the grandfather whose glasses had just cracked, let's retreat far enough to know my origin before I get out of my mother' stomach—I went back inside my mother.
Here we are, let's get start. . .
MY ORIGINS
The man is an elementary school teacher who teaches in a school of suburb, his name is Jamal. Previously Jamal was a man who failed to finish his college in the news broadcasting department.
At that time he met a female teacher of elementary school who also taught at the same school with him. The female teacher's name is Rosnawati.
After knowing each other in familiar which is sponsored by blue flame on the kerosene stove axis, the axes of their love axis lit up. Then they get married. My arrival to this world had to be postponed for three years, because my mother was gulping down the birth control capsule, during that time I did not know where I was, maybe I'm just the sounds of a spoiled sigh in their romance of over and over again, repeated in a lot of time like evergreen song.
I estimate my blueprint was made in a night of heavy rain about 34 years ago when a blind and deaf plane flies upon and drops millions of tadpoles warriors to a muddy swamp covered with curly grass.
Only one survived the millions of tadpole warriors, the others died. And the lucky one—the lucky tadpole—he splitting to himself into many piece of part, became brain, heart and other anatomy's body. And then a baby was born, (it was me) his eyes were clear as the eyes of a rabbit, his skin slippery skin like a lizard's skin, but his cries were hard, along with the sound of thunder, he cracked the grandfather's eyeglasses, I mean his glasses were cracked by his wife accidentally sat on it.
AS A KID
When we were kids, we had been so indoctrinated by our parents every time we questioned the origin of a human being.
"The baby came from the sky that was taken down by a parachute from an airplane," Father replied like that when I asked him where did the baby come from!
Then every time we saw an airplane over the sky of our village we will try to chase him as best we can while shouting "airplanes, airplanes, give us babies."
Perhaps the plane was deaf, it always did not hear our shouts and ignore our voices.
Since populace of village recognize the electricity, the village becomes bright at night. A bulb like a crystal ball illuminating the dark night. But the fireflies that disappeared after electricity were in the village, their light was more beautiful than the darkness of night.
Shortly afterwards a villager bought a monochrome television. I whined to my Mother and Father, asking them to buy a television, but they did not care. Grandfather could not bear to hear my whining, then he bought a monochrome television. One day my grandfather and I saw a guy on television, he was wearing a black cap, a suit, a tie. then I asked my grandfather, who was the man on the television?
“Bacharuddin Jusuf Habibie,” Grandfather replied. Then Grandfather explained that Habibie had worked at Messerschmitt-Bölkow-Blohm, a company based in Hamburg, Germany, reaching the pinnacle of his career as a vice president of technology. After that I think that Habibie is the father of all babies in the country.
Then in my ten old I saw a pregnant women's milk advertisement on a private television channel, visually like this: a fat mother sitting on a chair, then came a man to hug and kiss her belly bloated. The fat mother's belly turned into a cartoon, there was a cartoon baby sleeping in her stomach—from this moment on I began to doubt the story of the origin of the baby conveyed by my parents.
How did I know Steemit?
I know Steemit from Google, google directed me to 
About me
My name is Alfizar Jarot, I live in Sumatra, Aceh, North Aceh, I am 34 years old. Three months ago I had an accident that made me sit in a wheelchair. Right now I'm trying to recover, learn to walk again, to crawl slowly like a baby learns to stand up. In Steemit I will write about simple philosophy and life. My passion is watching movies and reading novels and also currently I'm learning to try to write a movie script. While I was in a wheelchair, I spent a lot of time in front of the television. I think maybe I should use the time to write something useful in Steemit. I am reallly stoked to be a part of this amazing community.
"The earth is round like an orange"(Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
"The earth is round like tire of wheelchair; wheels on meals"(Jarot Borgeti)