10/31/2008
Jump right

Before, I'd be brimming with ideas, and I'd somewhat impatiently wait for my daily tasks to end so that I can start writing them down and get them over with. Now, I have absolutely nothing to say.

It's as if my brain just stopped working. For some reason, I took pride in my ability to concoct things while walking. It's been that way during most of my idle time in school, although time has proven that it isn't a good thing. It's been that way after most field trips, because that was the best way for me to fully assimilate what I supposedly just learned or did. Lately it's been my means for figuring out what I exactly did, or didn't do at work. Or, perhaps, what they didn't do. Sure, it might have worsened my emotional state at some points, but it's better than I get battered while being clueless.

I'm always torn about my quiet time. Sometimes I think it's not a good thing, partly because I wasn't exactly raised in such a scenario. Tell us what you think is often a catchphrase on news channels who are bent on filling dead air with opinions. If I don't get heard - heck, if I don't get the chance to speak - I'd feel disregarded. Suddenly your thoughts don't matter in the ways of the world, just when they say that they actually do. Look at all the stories I can tell that might just change the world!

But the good thing with quiet time is, as I said, I get to think over things. Sometimes it's best to just shut off everything and think about what just happened. They do say deliberation is the best way to get to things, after all. (And you don't hear newscasters asking for your views during yoga sessions.) Whatever I think in those walks from the office to the transport terminal gets written, and whatever gets written becomes my stand for whatever, even if they're fickle from the get-go.

In this case, I've had too much quiet time.

I'll admit, sometimes things will actually border on paranoia. At one point I actually thought that I should be sent to a psychiatric institute.My flimsy logic dictates that my quiet time leads me to think too much, and since I've thought up of almost everything already - my memory doesn't work wonders here, because I remember almost everything - I end up thinking of those complicated ideas that don't seem plausible when you look at it one way, but could be plausible in another. Then again, I got over that, simply by not writing about it. Maybe start talking once alone in the restroom. That's one.

But you're the only one you can really rely on. When everybody locks their doors shut, or are just away for the weekend, you can't just pick up your mobile and tell them stuff. There's boundaries and priorities and all the other buzzwords I used to have to explain all those things that remained a mystery to me. Soon you'll have to explain to yourself why some things happen the way they turn out to be, using everything that you know. All of a sudden, you have ideas that you're very much convinced about. You think that it's some sort of conspiracy theory, that it isn't just a case of your timidity but a case of their indifference, and that you're essentially hopeless until you get off. Soon you'll find people that agree with you, and suddenly your idea is very plausible.

"Nobody says goodbye to me, but they say goodbye to each other."

"Ang sama naman nila. It's supposed to be two-way, no."

But lately, after all these theories have been exhausted, believed in and adhered to, I just stopped. When I want explanations, I get nothing. Suddenly, I find myself blankly staring in front of the computer monitor, making sure that nothing obstructs the corners of my eyes, thinking of how to put things in the least offensive way possible. All my walks to the terminal have been peppered with flashes of images in my head - new ones, about me in fantastic situations that don't connect in any way to the concepts that need explanation. Childhood thoughts. High school thoughts. College thoughts. Just not the thoughts you want.

I once vowed to put an end to such hysteria, if only to peacefully co-exist with the rest of the world. Obviously I'm not successful in that regard, but just when I started finding ways of circumventing around it - the lack of goodbyes, or conversations, or straight-vision opportunities - my brain starts shutting off for me. When new problems arise, and I ask for explanations, all it gives me is a photo of me working the consoles in some radio station - an idea I've long ditched since the midmorning shift at the other half of the Ortigas Center slapped me in the face. Yet the original ideas, the original explanations, and the original plans to work around them are still in place. I, on the other hand, am such a wreck, all because of innocent greetings and impromptu bonding sessions that shouldn't have happened.

Ah, the things that happen with silence. Your innocence will leave you deranged soon.

And your responses...

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