It’s 22:25 and I’m still at the office. My colleague put on some music from the gramophone era. Creaky vinyl and black and white film. I haven’t had my dinner and my eyes hurt. I am stressed, can’t you tell? My week had been crazy. If deadlines were living creatures, they’d be monsters that stick close to you with their reptilian fingers wrapped around your arm. They’d have smelly breath too… an onslaught of fish markets, onion and garlic.
Whenever I get stressed, I don’t think a lot—this I have to admit. My brain shuts off partially to an auto-pilot mode. Don’t talk about feelings and emotions with me during this time because it will come out constipated and diced. I will frustrate myself and you.
However, I do enjoy the times when I don’t have to think a lot. Little activities and gestures that remind me how it’s ok, that things will be fine and good. Here are some of the many:
Grass and bare feet. Naked stars and being alone.
When I was younger, my sister and I would lie on our beds and stare up at the dark ceiling. We’d create stories with characters and a plot. She’d come up with a scene and I will continue, not unlike storytelling ping-pong. Sometimes I got so carried away I cried for the characters like in a movie. But in between stories I’d close my eyes and imagine walking in the universe and wondering if I’d reach the edge of it. I usually picture myself scratching at nothing, only finding more to the universe but never the end of it.
Because it messes me up. Everything is upside down, downside up. I can’t hold it for long so it usually ends up being an underwater somersault. I’m not a pro. Yet.
I used to draw human faces that resemble a dog’s face profile. Don’t imagine.
Now, I draw them chinless. Not that great, but still an improvement. I think.
Wholegrain bread, butter (loads), ground black pepper, ham/bacon, mustard, zucchini slices, salsa/hot sauce (chunky)/ketchup, black olives and cheese. Let me know if I missed out anything. No, I don’t like raw onions.
I met a mute old lady in the alley behind my office today. She had huge glasses, pink pajamas-
looking two-piece and a packet of cat food. We couldn’t communicate fluently and she had her own sign language system. Male = two fingers drawing a moustache on her face. Female = both hands touching her ears. And ever since my grandma passed away last year, I’ve had this inkling to “adopt” every old person… or rather, have them adopt me.
Alright, I should leave the office soon. Have better days ahead.