CIRCUSITCH

I know now that anger is a strong energy, and that it does get picked up by other beings. When we fight in the house, our cats scuffle and hide, the smaller one sometimes whines at our feet as if begging us to stop. Our tortoise moves erratically in his bowl, as if trying to escape the tsunami of hatred. I watch in amazement as he tries to climb up the slippery glass wall, driven by desperation.

That day I spent the whole night on the bed, too drained to do anything. I woke up only for a drink, pausing at the mirror to have a look at myself, my petite flying bird. For no reason the comfort of laying back down on the bed soothes me, the only kind of kindness I felt in the last 24 hours. And I start to cry, which prompts my kitten shiiro to regard me with such curiosity in his eyes that had I was not feeling sad, I would have reached over and laughed.

Shiiro proves to be the best companion I could ever wish for, short of my far away bestfriend. He ended up staying with me the whole time, never leaving my side, either cuddling between my legs or beside my waist, my head, on my chest. We would cuddle and sleep together, and when the tears come he licks them up, liking the salty taste. His piercing stare sometimes make me feel uncomfortable, as if he knows. I could only hope he was not judging me. When he goes to his bowl to eat he would often look back at me as if to check if I am okay and to reassure me that he’s just nearby.

The true evidence of him protecting me comes when the husband walks into the room, sits next to me on the bed, and proceeded to talk to me. By then things have definitely cooled off, but shiiro rouses from his sleep on the floor, and groggily – and clumsily – climbs up the bed to sit next to me, making trilling noises all the time. He then puts his paw on my hand. It only hit me then, that he feels that I need to be ‘protected’. Or maybe he feels I just needed the extra support, extra back up. Nevertheless the realization hits me like a whiff of sugar and a warm squeeze in my heart. This little tiny oddball furball, trying to cheer me up the best he could, trying to protect me from a human 16 times his size.

My family gives me a hard time for molly coddling my cats a little bit too much. But I like to think that I am just too fucking sensitive to their emotions. It might as well be anthropomorphism, but it doesn’t hurt anybody. Of all the cats I’ve owned, shiiro is the first to reciprocate my affection with his. He is the only cat who could, and would spend hours just sitting with me, who follows me everywhere and anywhere, watches the television with me even accompanies me to the bathroom. Sometimes when it is love, it is love. You fall hard.

Here is yet another post on the greatest friend a human can have.

Found this while searching for myself in the Internet. Wrote this a while ago, and this was a random writing. The red coat you gave me still have your smell, or maybe my memory reactivates your scent when I sniff the coat. I am an organized mess, a mess you’d never get to see again.

“half an hour

Yesterday night I let go of all worries.

In the elevator this morning we discussed the fact that guys can’t help but do some ‘dick measuring’ assessments over each other, one of which I was unfortunate enough to be in the middle of. Nothing ruins your lunch more than Guy A talking about his high school days and how good of a student he was, while Guy B retaliated by telling us his overseas work escapades. I considered going all out bitchy, like, “Bitches, whatever!” with a W formed by my thumbs and index fingers, but if men feel the need to see whose dick is longer, then measure. As long as no one’s chest size is bigger, I’m fine.

My current interest right now is reading a book on human anatomy. I’ve always been interested in science and biology, but in uni I was sort of hooked to brain science. How people act, why they act like that, you know, important things that could make or break your social life. Now that I’ve sort of resigned to the fact that people suck, I’m moving on to other fields. Human anatomy is fucking interesting. I’m no doctor, but really, our bodies are beautiful. Right now I’m fixated about the muscle serratus anterior. I am also interested in the thoracic part of the spine, even though it’s my cervical spine that suffers a herniation. You bet I feel puffed just writing that out. I’m so cool it hurtssss.

I’ve got to go to work. Adios.

I did something I’ve never done before in my whole life: ate 2 Magnum Almonds back to back. I contemplated the second one for a very long time, staring at the television without making full sense of what was on. In the end, I caved in, seduced by the richness of the chocolate.

In the shower room at the place where I workout, it was only me and this lady. Her face was unsmiling, and I reacted by minding my own business. However as she was putting on her shoes and I my headscarf, the silence was too much to bear. I always enjoyed random conversation anyways.

I said, “I like your shoes.” Because women love compliments. And you can never go wrong with shoes… although to be honest, they look like normal ordinary flats. But here’s the best part…

She smiled, and said, “It’s Burberry,” in a low confidential whisper kind of voice.

Only then I noticed the trademark checkered (or plaid) or whatever you call it that signifies Burberry. Channeling my inner fashion goddess in me (and lord knows that goddess have gone out of style since 2001) I smiled conspiratorially to her and said, “I can tell. And that’s the reason why I said that,” like I too, hoard Burberry flats and tote around a Chanel handbag.

We continued the conversation for a while and I managed to bluff my way into sounding like someone who dons designer duds. I thank God for all the InStyle magazines I still read (and that is precisely the reason why I will always think magazines will never be a waste of time) for making me sound believable. Of course, I have to thank my colleague/best friend/social lifeline for inspiring me to be interested in fashion again. I may have strayed so far off that path, and don’t think I’ll be on it again, but I do still enjoy bits and pieces of it just like hipsters enjoy quoting new bands and drinking ChaTime (or is it outdated now too?)

Sometimes I wish the words in my brain write themselves on a piece of paper. God knows how many stories I have built just from being in the traffic, in the haven of my car. My favorite unwind moment, honestly, is after I’d parked my car at the porch and gunned off the engine. The sound of the car slowly tinkling off and the slow heat that envelopes make me feel very very calm. I would stay there a while, playing my phone, checking my emails, and if I have a magazine or two in the car, read it. In yoga there’s this pose called Shavasana – or Dead Body – where you just lie on your back and relax. To a normal person it’s as easy as that but to really master Shavasana takes a long time. When you ‘get’ the skill of Shavasana – the skill to just relax, let go, closing your eyes and NOT falling asleep – then you’d really appreciate its benefits and effects.

I work out everyday. I’m sure it’s not mystery to any of you who has been reading me. I cannot explain why working out is crucial to me. Running was my therapy at one time. Actually, when I think about it, it will always be a soothing balm, except that my knees complain. Cycling was fun. I was strong and able and I had friends. That was my team sport. Swimming was very very calming. I had a schedule last year, on Wednesdays would be my swimming day. I would be churning out sets of 10x100m, 3x300m, playing with drills and props. I talked to myself in the water. Problems will not be solved, but at least, accepted.

Today, my workout does not involve me getting out of the house. I could be doing it in my underwear, in the buff, for 10 minutes, or even 2 hours. Sometimes I’d be doing it watching TV, or at work. Nevertheless I am addicted, because it is challenging. And it always makes me work for it. I have never been aware of how my body works, how I am a better person, bit by bit, if only noticeable to me. I began to feel, and look at things differently. Obviously I am aware that I am currently writing out something a cult member would write about, but I am in love.

I am always in love.

I get stressed lately, pretty often, although I do not like to use the word stressed. I certainly don’t think I deserve to be saying it because there are many things in my life that I am grateful for. Stressed is only fitting for those who are in situations where our minds cannot wrap themselves around.

For the most part, I try to keep calm. The best way to do it is by working out. I workout everyday now, a need. Whereas before I was only training for a race or an event, right now working out is my sanity. The movements of your body, the beating heart. I find it strangely sad that a beating heart can still ache, can still hurt. Always a fan of all things morbid, I find that I miss the feeling of achiness, that heavy thing in your heart. When I feel it, I feel as though I have a purpose in life. To try to seek better things. To try to remember what left that is worth holding on to.

Sometimes I’ll be in a conversation with friends and the words I want to say gets trapped in my throat. How do I say it? No one teaches you these things. You do not want to learn the art of telling the truth, when the truth is prickling. I am afraid of disappointing so many expectations, so many people. Sometimes I get confused, am I becoming the person I’ve always read about… and what am I doing to prevent it? I find myself wondering if every person is actually going through some personal shit that nobody knows about. Because I am a master at crying my heart out in the privacy of my car and then meeting friends, colleagues, strangers with a smile and a wave.

Today I am dedicating my whole of everything for you. Everything I do is not halfhearted but in total complete awareness. You need this baby, whatever strength I have inside me, for you to go through this day in absolute happiness. You deserve this, after all the days of being cooped up, being misunderstood, being helpless, and – I hope not, but I doubt it, I am sorry – hopeless. This morning I dedicate my practice to you. In lifting myself up I hope your spirits are lifted. This is me begging for you to understand that I will never be the enemy.