It's 4 in the morning. I'm sitting in the living room, on my snow-white sofa, next to Ali's cage, and making a serious effort to type on my android. I could have walked 20 feet to get to my pc, but I'm feeling too lazy to do so.
I have 3 active email accounts, 1 linkedin, and 1 facebook account, 1 mobile phone and 1 residential line - all of which I have stopped checking since the beginning of this week - in fact, I have not been actively checking emails for months now. I have dozens of missed calls, a dozen unheard voicemails, and too many unread text messages. I had a long lunch with a friend I haven't seen since last July - and he's about the only human being (that is, besides Seabloke, all the delivery men, and my interior designer and contractors) I've interacted with in a very long time. I have been avoiding even clients - so I can pretty much kiss my real estate career goodbye.
It brings me some comfort knowing that lazy as I have been (I have been so tired I take breaths only when I feel like I am going to pass out), I could still be there for a friend whose state of mind I care about very much given what had happened to him. I felt a little guilty of course, when he commented on how I am always all smiles and optimistic about life.
The fact is that Fan is the one that is truly taking a positive outlook on life, and really doing something to pull himself together. All that I could pull off was a smiling face and listening ears (he tells amazingly interesting stories like how a local delicacy - our famous laksa - needs earthworms in the brew to keep it from spoiling within 6 hours after preparation, and how women infected with Toxoplasma gondii become more intelligent and sociable (I can live with the schizophrenic bit) while the side effects for infected men leave much to be desired, FOR THE MEN...all in all, it isn't all that difficult to listen to Fan)...and I get it that I should feel ashamed. But I really don't care.
".... the mind is very powerful and our thoughts make a big difference in painting the picture of the world we live in but that we always have the choice to choose the colors we use and what we paint. I know it sounds like psycho mumbo jumbo but over time, I have found for myself that making conscious decisions to see things from a different perspective and more importantly not from the mind but from the heart makes my world a much better place.", a friend wrote. I appreciate the note with all my heart, and admire V for her strength and courage, and the genuine love she has for people around her. Unfortunately, I have not been able to internalize her message. I choose black.
"Both abundance and lack exist simultaneously in our lives, as parallel realities. It is always our conscious choice which secret garden we will tend … when we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives but are grateful for the abundance that’s present-love, health, family, friends, work, the joys of nature, and personal pursuits that bring us pleasure-the wasteland of illusion falls away and we experience heaven on earth" - Sarah Ban Breathnach
Well V, I have none of the above. I used to get too sick to get out of bed at least a few days in a month; I stopped feeling like I have a family after my dad passed on (I know for a fact that Sea really doesn't like me all that much, and I don't like my mother at all); I have almost no friends that I speak with on a regular basis because I am simply incapable of staying in touch (the small talk part of the interaction intimidates me); I haven't a job; the new condominium project that's coming up has taken away my beloved forest view; I haven't a hobby because nothing interests me; and I am no longer curious about the world so I'm not about to just pack up for that journey that will transform my life and make me a better person.
Unlike the majority of my peers, I haven't children that I need to see grow up and to be around for. Alberto and Keish are 14 - which most consider very old for cats. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to go on without them, especially Al, so I got Alessandra, an 8-week old British Blue slightly before Chinese New Year. Ali, although British, turned out to be a darling. My favorite vet that Al has been seeing for the past decade, and who adores Al, commented "Finally, some sweetness....you need that". "But Al's been very sweet", I protested. "BITTERsweet you mean, honey". I love the good doctor.
Everyday for too long now, I have kept myself busy with cooking and cleaning; and sewing for my felines (needlework is strangely therapeutic) and playing hide-and-seek with them; babying Ali, and pacifying a very jealous Alberto; and watching too much TV (it's on 24 hours, and I'm even loving the baby channel (as in, a channel for babies to watch). I trade 2 accounts, and on both I have been keeping positions that I have allowed to go way against my favor. I enter trades, and am simply too lazy to manage them each time. I feel nothing for profits, and a trade has to be in the red to keep me interested enough to look at the position at most twice a day.
Simply, I feel like my life has come to an end. Perhaps it started too young. I feel 80 - I am worn out, and desperate for a rest. There is only pain, and I haven't an inkling from where it first came.
Long and Wrong, I have not gone underground. Not physically. The soul's in hell still. When it's back, I'll write.