But then when you truly love to do something, it's a mistake to keep it waiting. It's important to make time for it. And so here I am. Our race against time, against being able to maximise every minute of it, to be able to do something worthwhile is an obsession.
I've been too exhausted phsyically and mentally, these past months to be able to write here. I feel it's unfair to just drop in and say a word. I've been obsessed as well trying to post in such a linear fashion, narrate everything like a book, when my life isn't at all.
So how it's been? My absence does not constitute anything much in this virtual world except that I just really missed inking the randomness in my life. As always, the cathartic nature of this exercise is what keeps me coming back to it. It's free and poses no hassle of wasting someone else's time in case they get bored. But sometimes, it also makes me think, am a better off expressing myself this way than ending up blabbering empty lines with someone else, boring them with pointless stuffs to talk about? Is this a cover up for a weakness?
Well then, let me open up the days I've been 'offline'. We just moved in to a new apartment in a commercial district and much closer to where I work. So again, I am busy arranging the house, putting things in place, while in between I sulk at the idea that I no longer will have the chance to be visited by peacocks once again.
I used to stay in an old villa neighboring old palaces of sheikhs who must be keeping peacocks in their backyard. One fine morning as I prepare myself to work, I opened my front window to get some fresh air and started sipping my coffee. And then I noticed three big peacocks roaming around our front yard! They were like prisoners who have escaped looking for a refuge, while freely checking out a new hide away. It was such a rare and delightful experience. (But what a let down to realise afterwards they were all male peacocks and could not show off colorful feathers!)
I just could not explain my happiness that rare instant. After that incident I realised how true it is that there are things in our life which could happen only once. I guess this is one of them. They are beautiful but momentary, ephemeral, like a passing glance. They are not meant to stay. But the feeling was surely familiar.
But my present is more pressing than any other thing such as that experience. They are only meant to be savoured at times like this, when I can share it with you without thinking of the many other things I need to do or where I need to be at right after this.
So maybe this writing process is a reprieve to the every day life, because it will always be a struggle to be able to make a point. To try to become less meaningless in what we do or what we engage into. It is a daunting task to become sensible as to why we do things. But this is the only exercise that makes me see how real and imperfect it is to live, to love, and to make things happen. This is also the only exercise that makes me see and accept what I can do and what I can't. What I can give and what I can't. What I can give up and what I can't.
I am not hoping I'll see peacocks visit my apartment window one fine day. As it is here, pigeons have already asserted apartment windows are their territory. Have a wonderful Friday!