I woke up lying on the sofa while the movie Rebel Without a Cause was still playing. An hour earlier I was pumped after watching a Tawainese film I've seen a thousand times. I was asleep for thirty-minutes. Thirty-silent-minutes. I betrayed the movie I had been saving for years to see. I liked to believe I give a good film justice when I watch it with all of me—mind, body, and soul. Yet I let myself fell asleep.
The chaos in my brain stops when I could not handle the exhaustion of my life. When I finally give in to my body's call for help to just close my heavy eyes, and wander in my sleep. Every day, I hope for moments like this.
So I gave in. For a brief moment of silence. But like most nights, I awoke with the thought of Monday. Nothing could interrupt my sleep in the wee hours of the night like work does. Not my loudest alarm clock nor the smell of bacon for breakfast was capable of such. I got up like a rooster naturally crowed before the onset of light.
~
You can see my book shelf every time you enter my room. It always reminds me of the books I haven't touched since I bought them. If they can talk, they are probably hating on me for never allowing them to have a walk outside of their house. Yet bookstores lure me like a maniac. I buy more for the pleasure of it. For a second of anticipation. I roam bookstores like I have money to spare. All the pages I want to take home. They give excitement to my mundane life like a drug. They make me look forward to mornings I can be calm enough to simply drink coffee and read. I come out of bookstores with at least two books or more in a bag. I giggle with the thought of arriving home, removing the plastic covers, smelling the pages, and getting sedated by good stories. But for the longest time, all of them just sat there. Only welcoming new faces. Never given a chance to get a breath of fresh air. Though some are lucky to live outside the dusty glass. Two books sit on my night stand. One book is a compilation of three volumes about Tengo and Aomame. They were released separately during their publication in 2009 and in 2010 in Japan. The English translation was published a year after as one single book. It was brilliant. It easily became a favorite. I finished volume 1 in two days, and volume 2 in three. The end. The second book was my sister's. It's written by this famous poet of the 21st century whose words have always resonated with me. It was her first novel. When the book's title was first announced, I knew I wanted to have it. The day came fast when I finally held it in my hands. I put it down for good half-way through the story. I can't tell when will I want to read the rest of it. A third book lies on my desk. It was an autobiography of one of my most favorite people in the entertainment industry. She was a talented improvisation actor. Known as among the best comediennes of the modern times. The person who gave life to Leslie Knope. I enjoyed her book too much I refused to reach its last page. I lingered it for far too long the last chapter was pleading to be read. The closest I got to reading was three months ago. A book authored by the amazing Afghan doctor and novelist Khaled Hosseini. His first two books were magnificent. I knew his third book would not disappoint. I read the first chapter of his latest book before I let it lay on my night stand only to be put back on the shelf again. I wanted to pick them up badly, but I could not get myself to do it. The first step is always the hardest, they say. But every day I already struggle even with the process of mustering the strength to function. That's the pre-step before the first step.
~
I had iced coffee for lunch, and three cups for dinner. My body was heavier than usual. I needed it to keep me awake, and to help me get things done. The laundry, at least. It was still not enough so I decided to take a shower, too. It was not enough. Now it's four in the morning on a Sunday, and I'm back looking for new distractions.
(c)
