I am drinking, and quite drunk. It feels good to be drunk, to be bolder and more loyal to your senses while the expected reality might be blurred a little bit.
From a far corner of my mind, I miss, and love the scenario of sitting by the window in my room back home, though it is not really a room in a proper meaning, watching over the garden with assortment of vegetables and flowers, and mountains and a peaceful river at the end of the picturesque panorama. There might be some fog, and some birds twittering around.
At the times when your inner is a chaos, from where you cannot tell what is what, and you cannot really know what you are thinking, when you even question your existence on earth and what is the meaning of all what you have done, Woolf and Pessoa can be salvations, at least it is the case for me. I often think of myself as a poignant thinking creature being in the middle of the mud of an office where I would stare right at the screen of the computer and find me puzzled by the question of what to do next, with what and for whom, for what. I would rather die those moments. Numerous trails of thoughts have been running through my mind simultaneously, so much as that I cannot process all of them at the same time. Voices, and the boredom of daily office work.
Then I think I am lying in a hammock under the canopy of a big tree, it is sunny and I will be reading everything in hand, forever. I will be hungry, of course. I will eat some fruits, drink fresh water from the spring nearby, and have a siesta. I will live and die, alone, in that manner of a recluse, far away from the hustle and bustle of a city, and of others.
Because of Pessoa, I even think about the possibility of learning Portuguese. I read a bit about the imperial history of Portugal. And I have come to wonder how a “trunk” of manuscript will be found in the modern age, and what the effects of such a discovery will be on the finder. Of course, there are something that we hide somewhere deep in a plethora of folders, with a password required to access our personal computer. Inevitably, there are ways to hack. But what if ones do not care enough even to think about hacking? The writings will be in caves of those folders, or in “protected” or “private” sections somewhere online, unheard, unread, subject to fall into a black hole and be lost forever. That is how thoughts, lives, and a mosaic of a life are lost. Sometimes, I imagine myself being an intruder into a stranger’s room, just to see that mosaic of a life, a room perhaps with dirty clothes on the floor, some textbooks dispersed around, a laptop, an exotic smell that cannot be described in existing words and concepts.
Once, during a lunch break, some female colleagues of mine were talking about another male colleague in the administrative and human resources department, who happens to be an avid watcher of “The face”, a TV reality show. They find it is disgusting and shameful and so “womanly” for a man who can be interested in a show that is designed for “woman interest and preference”. The show is said to be bitchy and replete with gossips and badmouthing towards each other. “What is it in a man who loves watching such a show about women having words?” they said. It was the same group of women who would criticise those men who were learning to cook, to make hair and to arrange flowers, “woman’s business” in their opinion, whilst they are keen to complain about the irrationality and the unfairness of Confucian view on women and their duties, which are deeply entrenched in East Asian societies. It is ironic that those women who think that they can do whatever “great” that men can do like becoming CEOs or presidents turn out to be those who also think that cooking, making hair and arranging flowers are meant to be “woman’s business”, THEIR business. In their way of thinking, it seems that bitchy and badmouthing are inherent characteristics in women, and that men should be ideally born with bravery, a bit indifference, and reticence when it comes to private lives of other people. It is the way of thinking that puts women in a negative light whilst promotes an apparently all-good approach towards men. I do not believe that a girl is born a terrible gossip and a boy is born not for cooking or doing nails. WHY on earth should a girl be raised to watch bitchy reality shows while a boy to become entrepreneurs and famous composers and painters and politicians? Why should making hair and doing nails be confined to the realm of women? What is a WOMAN’s business after all? Are women born for any kind of business? And men too?
It is in our agenda of gender equality that a woman is free to do what a man can do, so can a man do “woman’s business”, without discrimination, bigotry and criticism? Of course he can and then, why not?
Recently, I have been thinking about something like “thought infidelity crime”. Would it be a reality?