A hot, humid day. I sit in my friend's living room, facing the balcony, and looking at the landscape that encapsulates Kuala Lumpur city centre. Beginning Monday, I will have my work cut out for me. The concept of weekend no longer holds the same meaning for me as it once did. It has always been work, work and more work everytime, with me taking Mondays off at times, but not anymore. It is a quiet evening today, somewhat subdued, and I wish I could take a book and sit at that balcony and read as I contemplate the dusky, dust-glazed skies. But I have some transcription work to finish. Ah the life of a freelancer. I am still easily tired from the flu bug. Yet I am downing a bottle of Danish stout fortified with ginseng. It was cool but has turned warm as I slowly made my way to the bottom of the bottle. I am still not more than halfway through.
I wonder what are the tenants in all the other apartments doing right now. Watching television? Making love? Eating dinner? Arguing? Committing a **** act?
Some kind of music is being emitted from one of the rooms in the apartment I am in.
My life is neither harder nor easier than any other around me. Perhaps it is easier than some people's, perhaps it is harder. Sometimes I look at a person and I am tongue-tied. I feel unable to communicate my deepest thoughts. I feel scorn and disgust emanating sometimes from another person. But I've learned not to let it be a thorn to my flesh.
Perhaps one day, I'll have a comfortable cubby of my own where I will feel more at home and comfortable in my skin.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment