today i heard the sound of somebody about to die. isn’t it strange how things change in the matter of hours. i was sitting down absent-mindedly picking at my beef stew and using whatsapp to tell a friend about the dream i had concerning our results. and then i heard a 3 second long sound that at that moment i didn’t even know what to classify the sound under – a bang or a boom – but now i know it was the sound of impending death. initially i thought the shelf stacked with my mother’s pots and pans at the balcony had fallen over. then my father came out of the kitchen and said three words: a boy fell. i can no longer remember what my first reaction was but it was only until i heard the cacophony of wails – not even cries anymore – that it occurred to me that my father was actually right. then i did something i feel ashamed of doing now; i tweeted about it and now i feel like i’ve disrespected a dead boy’s family. all i can think is how everything has changed within a few hours for the boy’s family – that a mother would never wake up thinking ‘today is the day i lose my child’ – and that a mother’s heart is dying.
now i am sitting at a table that is too big for just one person but i am carrying two bags and my back is aching plus my feet are tired and i don’t really care. 4:33pm is too early a time to be eating dinner but all i’ve had is two slices of gardenia’s fruit and nut bread. here’s a fun fact of the day: i took a double decker bus today. thought about how i used to love sitting on the upper deck with my mom. i used to feel like these little moments were uniquely mine; that i was the only plaited hair girl who would scramble to find the best seats and feel –if i were to use the now mainstream phrase– infinite. then i grew up and every significant moment felt like it was mine to share, something that no longer belonged solely to me. that what i feel now is something someone else feels as well. in this way i take comfort in knowing that there is somebody else who might be having a worse day. a lost one in a family. or that when i decide what to eat, someone else is wondering when he can finally eat. i’m not sure if i’ve blogged about this before but there really is always something to be thankful about.
there’s something about airports. the quiet hum of excitement of having to pack your bags and go; leave without looking back. or the sinking feeling of knowing that you may have said your goodbyes and yet it doesn’t feel enough. the saddest part about leaving is that someone else made that decision for you, without any room for compromise or ‘buts’ in the conversation. shouldn’t a conversation be about the communication between two people — yet why are your thoughts and words carelessly labelled and pushed aside into the folder ‘unimportant?’ today i was reminded of the inescapable truth: people come and people go. isn’t this life. people always leave. and that i found out for the very first time that there is something so heartbreaking about seeing a guy cry.
what i remember most about my wednesday: having two separate whatsapp conversations with my best friend about the –i quote– ‘discrepancy in the generosity’ between friends and then another serious conversation at night about whether taylor swift had a boob job. scrolling through my facebook news feed (or is it called timeline…… does it matter anyway) to see someone i have never talked to before post a picture of a pikachu figurine which said stranger got from macdonalds’ happy meal (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) first thing i do in the morning would be to get myself a happy meal (!!!!!!!!!!!!!) also i will begin my second facebook purge but a thousand TQ TQ TQ(s) to that person i guess. watching gossip girl season 4 after 1 year and 2 months — love how everybody is so tight and united. i keep expecting one of them to turn against the other but so far that hasn’t happened and each time i suppose it feels like a surprise center you find in sour sweets— and now it is barely 15 minutes into thursday but i’ve been waiting since 10:28pm on sunday for wednesday to pass and it finally has. i can almost taste sunday now
there can only be two scenarios
1. receiving a slip that has a neat row of A’s and B’s. jumping up and down like a maniac but as for now, you don’t care about what they think, you made it through yet another obstacle in life. everything is clearer, everything is brighter
2. receiving a slip marred with ugly C’s and D’s. here there are no A’s at all. simply put, this slip should have the word ‘disgrace’ on it. now your friends ask how you’ve done and you’ve done nothing at all but waste a few years of your youth and the money your parents spent on tuition. watch as their faces fall and this is the part you’ve been waiting for. things like ‘hope you feel better soon’ and ‘stay strong’ must be the top favorites on the list of things to say to someone who has failed and done badly. everything is awkward, everything is still for now
everybody always says that a slip of paper doesn’t determine our lives or who we are as individuals
but honestly it feels as if most people say that as a defense for their bad grades
here i am getting into the lift on the 13th floor, with the taste of blood in my mouth after visiting the dentist. apparently i don’t floss enough but hey flossing takes hard work too. there’s a lady who stares blankly at me in the lift as i step in and position myself in the back left corner. people start getting in at the 10th 9th and 7th level and this is the part i hate the most. lack of personal space — obviously — people pressing their shoulders against you and having to deal with the close proximity of another woman’s deep-fried-typically-dyed-brown hair threatening to shove itself in your face. and as if the lift is not on the verge of turning me into a human pancake, a woman i assume to be in her late 30’s gets in with a baby pram. she is immaculately dressed and her wedding ring is a giant rock. yet, as the lift finally reaches the 1st floor, she is the first to get out and forgets to thank the people (this is not me being bitter since i was behind her) (honestly is a simple thank you that hard to remember) (shouldn’t these things come naturally) who have given her way and held (not literally) the lift door open. can’t help but think that she may have everything but good manners
if i tell you, would you run