Soar

11 May 2013

My fluctuating moods and mental stimulation is beyond my control. For a time I go from energized to tired. Whatever’s happening now must be because I really have to go through this. If I want to change, I have to change NOW.

No amount of intention would equate to visible action; my heavy heart sapped all my energy reserves.

Yesterday, as I was at our team meeting, the fourth day of our newly implemented four-day-workweek (which consists of working 10 hours for four days), Paul’s fuse burned out at the timeline for the ACT Davao del Norte project which is completely under his custody right now. I am the project’s de jure frontliner; Paul the temporary research associate. The de facto condition is completely different. Paul is everything for ACT – the frontliner and the overseer.

I am a redundancy. Paul is doing the work for me and I am getting paid for it. This adds greater to my frustration other than the truth that I am already through a phase of depression. If only I could easily disregard some thoughts. Is it us who rule our thoughts or is it us who are ruled by them that our lives depend on them? My life is at the mercy of my thoughts.

Why does my mind refuse to absorb what I am working on? I read and read and read and vaguely remember any of it. If I were a computer I would want a reboot or anything out of this. The more I feel useless and voiceless, the worse I become. I don’t want to involve the entire team in my downhill slide.

As I sway from side to side, I hear from Neil Gaiman. I envy him. He knows what to live and die for; I don’t. How could my current self dissatisfaction possibly be to my advantage? The mercy that befalls me comes from forces I do not see, not only my thoughts. Life found me lacking in faith, love, hope, speech and discipline.

I am spoiling my day. Today is my day 1 back home in Calapan. It’s as if I never left at all. It rained; my stars are wearing their dark specters, their sparkle wouldn’t reach me. Got my period as well today so I wouldn’t get to bike. Nevertheless, home is where I am.

On the bus ride to the port, the seat on my right was occupied by a mother and her infant child. The child was smiling. She is browless. She is a she as evidenced by her heart earrings, shaped the same as the pair I was wearing at the moment. I was once a babe, had I enjoyed it? Must I lose the joy I could get from this stage just because it does not go well for me, just because I have to struggle badly? My cares, please refrain from tucking me to bed. If I want to be tucked to bed, let it be love, faith, hope or dreams doing it. My best preference is prayer but it eludes me. I continue to beg for worry to leave me. Am I Saul, tormented by a demon? Would I only be calmed if David played his flute? No one wanted to be an antagonist or is it merely a pre-conditioned thought?

The movie version of Hasbro’s G.I. Joe Cobra was on. In general, the comic graphics evident in the film was enjoyable (Until the end of the movie, I lack a priori knowledge that it was based on a graphic novel). Interspersed through the film’s length, I had some breaks. Neil Gaiman was on play too, "Make good art," thus:

My gray matter donned its sweatshirt of loneliness as insulation to pain. The jumpsuit of sadness inhibits it from leaping beyond the atmosphere of worry and disappointment.

I re-imagined the dream where my ship capsized. Naturally, I was flailing my limbs to keep afloat; I don’t know how to swim. Energy drained, I kept afloat by moving only when I was about to sink. Boatmen, yacht vacationers, fisher folk, canoe riders, kayak pairs, dragon boat teams, hordes of them passed me by. Instead of coming to my rescue the way I thought they would–by bringing me out of the water, what they did was to hand me dead weight. At first I held on to each, “These might come to good use.” Before my arms couldn’t hold the accumulation of trinkets any longer, I saw that the best use of what I had was to throw them down, letting them sink on top of each other. Soon there was enough for me to step on to reach a strip of land.
Setting my feet on firm ground wasn’t rest.

Jotting this in cursive on my journal took longer than if there was no vehicular motion. The ink of my thoughts also dwindled. Why am I so detached from the ever rippling ocean of cosmic ideas?

The last bus ride I had with Sam last Sunday featured Jackie Chan in Chinese Zodiac. The boat ride today also had Once Upon a Time in China with Jet Li. I rarely get to finish these action films because the transit period cuts them un-ended. These were the movies I get to see recently which got me attentive and entertained. For a passive person, I immensely enjoy watching active, moving, risk-taking people. Whether I get inspired or more convinced that those larger-than-life characters only exist in movies and I am far removed from being one, is beyond my conscious interpretation. I will not underestimate my subconscious; it’s already side-stepping my conscious faculties.