Monday, May 29, 2017

Ballad of the Lonely

Its raining out. Light is reflected on the sidewalk puddles. Starbucks is playing Radiohead. I almost finished my latte. Papers are strewn across the table.

And I wish so much I had someone to miss me.

Tuesday, May 02, 2017

Kobayashi Maru

Another weekend of spending nights in hotel rooms.

I have grown partial to impersonal rooms to the messy apartment I inhabit most days of the week.  

The space I took pains to personalize, with the mismatched furniture and unread books, that used to charm me now seems to represents clutter, like my mind, full of flying thoughts refusing to land. 

I now gravitate to empty spaces. Like how I crave an empty heart. And a quiet mind.

I am convinced that the universe is trying to talk to me. Maybe its been trying to do so for the longest time to the point that it got pissed of and slapped me across the face with a host of experiences which has left me out of breath with no choice but, to listen. 

And now there is a cacophony between my ears.  

Rewind Yesterday 
I met an empath. I  just met her and within 15 minutes she turned to me and said,  

"Girl, you SO deserve to be loved." 

My smooth response was to called her scary, to which  others around the table concurred, with experiences of their own. So 3 hours and too many cigarettes later, she said her goodbyes with a wish for a good life. Not before -
  • She called me the CEO of procrastination, to the chimes of "Omg, you know what you have to do lah" from equally straight shooting friends.  
  • She chastised me for living my life with a template, doing things over and over and expecting them to be different. 
  • She told me to give myself to others to let anyone else in. 
  • She quoted Neale Donald Walsh. 
  • She told me to trust myself and believe that I can and should be loved. 
  • To quiet my mind, stop thinking and just do. 
  • She rolled her eyes when I asked her how did she know. 

And I called her scary again for the 5th time and my head was noisy as ever. 

Rewind Last Week
A messenger came by. 

20 years worth of stories unfurled in that long ride at the back of that black Mercedes. How soft the engine, the leather, the voices, the skin. The space he got for us was equally quiet as befitting two introverts, one more injured than the other. And over the city and over time, he listened as I gave my favorite pitch of how miserable my life is, not seeing then, the scars he himself bore. 

Then with a pat on the head, he started work. It took him just over 2 days to set my broken pieces and in the end he gave me the glue gun for emergencies.  
He also left me the following messages: 
  • For introverts like us, I need to take time away from all I know, to get have my honest conversations with God, with myself. 
  • I need to go back and find my passion to truly thrive.
  • Hotel staff treat you better when you stay in the suites
  • In every failure, there is a lesson. Learn ardently. Change. 
  • I talk to much when I am completely smashed. 
  • The pain of regret for things not done far outweighs that which was. 
And then he was gone. 

Rewind Two Days Ago
I checked in alone into a suite at the Majestic. 
Yes it is true that people treat you better when you stay at the suites.  The silence was punctuated either by thunder or the clock going like a metronome. 

And the conversations began. And now I can't shut the universe up.