Struggles beat ennui

16 February 2013

My life will never be boring even if I try to see it that way. My ordinary day would be wake up for work, gallivant a little during work days to ate Ching, Aids, Camelle or Micai then go back home to be alone again. My days are much like that. If not for those people and my mother’s frequent calls, I would not have any chance at human intimacy.

But there are more things that make the otherwise mundane special. Thanks to musicians. Their songs cheer me up, bolster me to carry on, make me dance, cause me to think deeply and get me involved. Thanks to memories; they sustain me when I know there’s nothing memorable happening. Thanks to paper and crayons, they are in total surrender, passively allowing me to manipulate and create something with them even if the toll is their being changed forever. Thanks to time, the expendable and inescapable aspect of reality, I can see through the greens in gardens and walk through uneven asphalt.  Thanks to life and to people. Merely seeing people in the streets as I walk to the office make me happy. (It’s that easy to amuse me.)

I will always look up. How I enjoy being out in the sun, staring and making out shapes from clouds. Or marveling at the arcs of branches or how a tree’s branch is similar to a deer’s antlers and a microscopic fungal morphology described as fauvic chandeliers.

Yesterday when I was getting June and Paul their cakes, I almost slipped on the floor. If not for the arm of some random person which I grabbed on to keep me from landing awkwardly sprawled, that would be an instance of extreme humiliation. I was not even in an observer’s mood then. I am again blessed that when I get into my observer’s state, people don’t bump into me. (It is their duty to keep out. I am non-functional at minding my way when I’m into observing.)

Even if I have to sit like a cooped hen for long periods of time in our human-freezer room, I have the luxury of going out as I please. I do not abuse this privilege; I only go out when I will no longer be productive unless I have inspired myself. Even if I would’ve wanted to be physically active but could not because we’re more on the make-your-mind-work anthem that the main physical activity involved would be bringing Cedie close to the printer, the cubicle afforded me with privacy to stretch out, dance to music, color whenever I want, take short breaks by resting with eyes closed (I have to remind myself to blink. Concentrating on Cedie’s screen makes me forget I have to blink.) and have snacks without being too conscious that people are spying on me. However, it also isolates people, preventing human interactions.

I can only tolerate being still to observe stationary or moving objects, not keeping still for computer work. It has been difficult for me to not see moving people for long periods of time. More so to keep from blurting out a response to everything I hear. I always remind myself that it’s improper to butt in especially when Paul is talking to June. Music then became my default company. I guess the whole day exposure to and decibel accumulation blasting closely at my ears plus my more than 12 hours a day work before Cedie without blinking (I can’t help it. Blinking takes away my concentration from what I’m doing.) triggered those long-duration headaches.

I can’t run while using Cedie no matter how much I’d love to. I am torn between my inclination to movement and the necessity to keep still in concentration. It remains a wonder to me how I was able to manage. Oh let The Ting Tings play in full volume, as substitute to a deep sigh, We Walk.