Flying CactusFriday, November 21, 2008
How I have been trying to write something funny, YOU have no idea. Instead of being inspirational, I'd get mellow which is just boring. So now..
Well, tonight, I'd figure that I should try, to be funnyI It's just a bit on a disguised layer after layer of melancholy, and mellow ramblings.
So here it goes, a few days back, I woke up -------------
I was about to finish the sentence above, but as usual, I was doing a bit of other random spur of the moment things like checking and commenting at photos of people on Facebook, and also looking into the mirror beside the monitor to check up on my oily face that got me a bit freaked out, and at the same time, trying to think off a funny story, I had successfully lose the thread of sequence of what I was indeed supposed to be up to.
Well, now you see, My very very sorry effort of trying to be funny now has just turned into a twist of lame and nutty. But as I was saying, I got up the way I usually get up, which was late and my hair which is always curly naturally, was so curled up then, and I looked totally insane at around 6p.m (not a typo). Instead of heading to the bathroom for a bath to make myself look and feel civilized, I decided to just brush my teeth and splash some water against my crazy looking face. I did not want to get up, you see. I just had to get up, and thus the crazy looking face staring back at me in the mirror, did look extremely wired with sleep and resentment, making me avoid my own eyes.
I saw the dishes that were piling up from a few days earlier, was still piled up, and the sight did nothing but nearly caused me to gag. But which I did not, because, as soon as I turned on the water faucet, I kept on washing bowls after dirty bowls, many many dirty spoons, folks, and knives, cooking pots, and all that, but it did not make me feel any better. I felt uninspired. I hated the feeling I had after the cleaning up. I was still up in my head, gladly dozing.
Which was a hard thing to do, since I had also finished making some hot coffee for me and my ma, who had just returned from work, when I accidentally shoved the silly pot of cactus that was on the side table in the hall, while I was trying to maneuver the coffee and bread to be placed at its side. Before I could say "Phuck" the damn cactus was tossed about one foot away from the table. a spectacle of dirt flying this way and that. I was speechless for a second or two, till something inside of me, bubbled up and turned into these very few words in my head: "MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF CRAP!"
But of course, I did not get to say the magic words, for the presence of my beloved mother gawking from her chair with her mouth shaped like a slightly flattened 'O', somehow made me sober up to what was left of my manners. I knew she didn't dare say a thing because, I looked like a wrecked, and, there was nothing for her to scream about, it was just the lone cactus, growing by its own lonesome, in spite of all the no-water diet that it has faced for about half of the year (?), I guess. And now, it was lying on the floor, with me gawking at it
So, what did I have to do, but ignore the hot coffee I just made. Still cursing under my breath, all the while thinking that if the cactus was not really bent so much, or the pot was a wee bit bigger, it might have spared me the trouble. Trouble or no, I guess I was glad my ma did not say some smart things the way she would say at times like this. I thought well I should count it a blessing.
As I tried to get the dried dirt off the wall, I nearly cried because, half of me,seriously did not want to do it and would have been extremely glad to sweep all the dirt away to the porch and down the drain, but the presence of my mother, induced a state in me that was close to being somewhat reasonable.
So, I tried to sweep the dirt off the floor onto a a piece of newspaper thinking it would somehow worked. But of course, it didn't and I was already sobbing inside. So what I did was use my hand and gather them in my palm and threw it bitterly into the tiny stupid pot while holding the cactus in the middle, feeling like a morose buffoon.
Then, I felt pity for the cactus, prayed for it, and ended up sweeping all the few stray bits of dirt left, out the door,sending my cat a spray of brown dust on her face. Sorry, Chirpy. (tehee). But hey I did feed her before making my coffee. I did!
Anyways, after I'd free myself off the cactus madness, I was in a sour mood, and refused to talk to my mother who had (how wise of her)now seeked refuge from the cup of coffee mixed with some T.V. I abandoned the chair that was near the table with the cactus underneath it now, and sulked by the dinner table, gulping on mildly warm coffee and getting all fired up spreading butter and strawberry on the bread, and eating it like I was mad at it.
I even fought with the plastic wrapper that held that loaf of bread, because my dear mother could not untie the knot that she did herself. Then, I nagged a bit, and bless my mother she did not utter a single word.
My unwashed face, and my crazy big hair put her into a mood where she'd rather leave me be boiling in my own self-hatred with a killer's pout on my already murderous looking face!
In the end, the little cactus stood silent in its pot under the side table, with the last bit of water I'd fed it the same day I cursed it.