Toilet Training
After the last gush of fluid out of my bladder, I felt blood drain out of my head as if I had excreted my consciousness together with what was urinated down the toilet bowl. With the cold clamminess of the hands that followed, I fumbled behind me to flush out the putrid mess I made.
I took a few seconds to listen to the whirring sound, and felt the sharp edged aluminum walls of the cubicle cave in. I waited to be squashed, like it was something that happens to me normally. I saw an image of my guts on the floor. And then, after a stupidly long while, I began to wonder why I wasn't hurting.
I wasn't hurting. I wasn't being squashed. And the walls just stood there.
But the urine, and the clamminess, and the strange blurry paleness of the experience was real.
I am alone, and I'm talking to that little voice in my head while I'm in the ladies' room.
Huzzah.
For the sake of the unusual metrics for a sense of satisfaction, I resentfully, but consensually, allowed the strings of my occupation to bring me here... to face myself. For the first time in the 22 years of my existence, I am in an honest to goodness retreat. It's been three months since I've flown in and out of here for a project. This time I get to be alone.
I'm in Davao again, armed with nothing but what's left of my sanity, some skills that the IT industry would be paying me for, and the low esteem that I have for everybody else. I miss home and the loving life that I have there. But just to be fair to the opportunity that was given I must say that on this side of the fence begins the life that my deranged psychological test results in high school would deem perfect for me. I should be glad for the fact that there isn't anyone here to distract me from performing my job (which happens to be job number 3 on my top ten dream jobs). Forget what I think I should be paid for while I'm here. I really should be jubilating right now if it made sense.
Just recently I discovered the joys in suppressing the cough that relentlessly itches its way out of my throat every time my mom and my dad calls. Telling them I'm fine through my Dysphonia, is something I could never do while I live with them. I begin to complain less about everything while I’m away. I guess that’s a good thing.
I feel like being in those evenings where it’s so cold you don’t understand whether you should pull the sheets up to expose your feet, or pull it down to show your head. This isn’t an unfriendly place. It just doesn’t know me as well as my home does. I find myself enjoying having to constantly prove myself here. And at the same time I miss the people I have who wouldn’t give a damn about what kind of noggin my genetics blessed me with.
And yet right now, I won’t even allow myself to make up my own mind about anything.
On the side note: I'm shaking some salt on my soda. yeehaw.
I took a few seconds to listen to the whirring sound, and felt the sharp edged aluminum walls of the cubicle cave in. I waited to be squashed, like it was something that happens to me normally. I saw an image of my guts on the floor. And then, after a stupidly long while, I began to wonder why I wasn't hurting.
I wasn't hurting. I wasn't being squashed. And the walls just stood there.
But the urine, and the clamminess, and the strange blurry paleness of the experience was real.
I am alone, and I'm talking to that little voice in my head while I'm in the ladies' room.
Huzzah.
For the sake of the unusual metrics for a sense of satisfaction, I resentfully, but consensually, allowed the strings of my occupation to bring me here... to face myself. For the first time in the 22 years of my existence, I am in an honest to goodness retreat. It's been three months since I've flown in and out of here for a project. This time I get to be alone.
I'm in Davao again, armed with nothing but what's left of my sanity, some skills that the IT industry would be paying me for, and the low esteem that I have for everybody else. I miss home and the loving life that I have there. But just to be fair to the opportunity that was given I must say that on this side of the fence begins the life that my deranged psychological test results in high school would deem perfect for me. I should be glad for the fact that there isn't anyone here to distract me from performing my job (which happens to be job number 3 on my top ten dream jobs). Forget what I think I should be paid for while I'm here. I really should be jubilating right now if it made sense.
Just recently I discovered the joys in suppressing the cough that relentlessly itches its way out of my throat every time my mom and my dad calls. Telling them I'm fine through my Dysphonia, is something I could never do while I live with them. I begin to complain less about everything while I’m away. I guess that’s a good thing.
I feel like being in those evenings where it’s so cold you don’t understand whether you should pull the sheets up to expose your feet, or pull it down to show your head. This isn’t an unfriendly place. It just doesn’t know me as well as my home does. I find myself enjoying having to constantly prove myself here. And at the same time I miss the people I have who wouldn’t give a damn about what kind of noggin my genetics blessed me with.
And yet right now, I won’t even allow myself to make up my own mind about anything.
On the side note: I'm shaking some salt on my soda. yeehaw.
posted by Jet @ 1:54 PM
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