Two Years or Two Seconds, It Doesn’t Matter

Things are pretty undone lately. A montage I can’t finish, a song I can’t finish, a book I can’t finish.

I don’t know if this is correct. But the statement above is from my drafts and, according to my computer, from two years ago. Which is crazy because I still feel the same way today. It’s good to know that I am still here. Hit by a wall that I do not know what to do with.

Earlier today I judged a debate finals. I sat on a panel with a friend who just got back from New York. I missed him a lot. We left as soon as possible. We just didn’t know what to do with all of our energy that we do not want to waste on petty, small talk. Pfft. I know the difference between speaking out because you have something important to say and speaking out because you love the sound of your own voice when you talk. The latter is the bullshit we inhibit ourselves from. An outward full circle.

We went to buy this book that I need for my class. Luckily, the bookstore was on sale so that means I scored 20% off my René Descartes book purchase. My Girl was playing and we just can’t help but dance. My friend learned to party. I still don’t know how. I just know how to dance to my feelings. Anywhere that might be. In this case, the bookstore. The song just matched my overall mood. I was wearing a tan and black breton boat-neck, wide-legged Japanese denim, shoes with square heels that click against the floor, and red lips.

We had Coke with our lunch. It has been a long time since I ordered a can of Coke for myself. Maybe it was the caffeine, maybe we had some serious ego throwdown. I told him I am looking for my voice. He told me it would take a lifetime to find a voice. Well, it could be not the final voice but the present voice and that voice that I am craving for right now must come from somewhere soft, and real, and deep. I don’t want to write what everybody else writes. Even if I go hungry.

I guess.

The car ride home was painful. He started talking about the medical condition of a loved one. It sucks that I cannot do anything significant about it. I felt my stomach twisting as how someone would twist a wet t-shirt after being caught by rain. Everyone has it rough. From wherever you are standing in life. Be it in New York City or in your small town. No pain ever goes unreciprocated. I don’t know if I should feel better by that. I can feel my ego deflate now and perhaps I’d say it does not make me feel any better. At all.

So that’s it. I went home to my dog Charles.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: