Babble

Traveling, not the conventional way

loving to be on the road.

head bobbing against the window.

it could be a different, completely surprising world

as afraid as i am to expose my vulnerability

it’s the only way to take on a tougher outer coat.

cutting across the ice,

just amazing when i’m out there,

the same way,

out there on the road,

something could be everything,

anything could be something.

delighting in

falling and standing up again

trying failing and the chances to try again.

breathing in the air

entering a different zone

taking it all in.

A. DIFFERENT. WORLD.

i am this person

an eagle soaring high

a dancer doing a pirouette.

 

 

 

My Puking Experience

On Tuesday, I stomached foul rice and go sick all over Mannheim – literally throwing up all over along the way back home from school. Never was I so thrilled to see a dustbin than when the puke was already up in my throat or worse, in my mouth and another wave of nausea hitting the walls of my esophagus at the same time as I pressed my palm against the seam of my parting lips. I was so weak and helpless I yelped, yes, like a dog and in my mind, a person’s name echoed-and I was surprised it did. I rebuked myself with the little strength left inside me and cried out this time, more weakly since I’ve been drained of strength during the afore-mentioned act, to God. The world was falling apart around me and then, I realized, no, it was me who was collapsing, disintegrating in the serenity of an apartment block’s front lawn!

I hugged my backpack and buried my face and my frizzy hair in my arms, fighting against my own failing digesting system, albeit temporary. I guessed it was too much to wish that the thick crowd in front of the tram stop just yards away would miss my retching feat, not to mention some old ladies who walked pass me with a look of disapproval on their faces. Should I write “I’m not drunk! I’m sick! Please ring the ambulance, I’ve difficulties getting home by myself” on a cardboard?

I lost count of how many times this disgorging urge engulfed me followed by a mess spewed on grass, dustbins, toilet bowls…But finally I got home. This journey that usually took me only 15 minutes demanded an hour this time! Well, due to my sudden attachment and affinity towards dustbin which I must have in sight possibly at all time. I snuggled into my bunk only after throwing up again into a bucket which stood “einsatzbereit” next to me. Then the worst came, I dreamed about missing my flight to Estonia! It was horrifying to wake me up and scoot me off in search of decent food in the kitchen.

It all sounded like a bitter experience but actually I had fun telling it over and over again- first to my housemates then here. Nothing like an anecdote to spice up the mundanity of life.

 

 

Babble I

One two three four. Right left front back. I push back my hair and stare at my toes, my hands fling into the air and I swirl, my left arm up in the air and landed on tiptoes. Urghh. I am giving up. I am absolutely no dancing material and half a year off the ice rink has rendered me rigid and stiff. How can the music be so good and there is no good footwork or body swaying to go with it? But I will leave this noble task to someone else more worthy of being graceful. Right now, music just let me contemplate.

 

I snug into my blanket and sheets and decided to let the music replay on itself.  Sometimes I wish I could have a remote control for my brain. At least the fast forward button would be really handy because when something triggers my mind it would always take up a big big space and my neurons would then work on processing it for hours before I was jolted back into the actual dimension. Cool, I used to think. Did that just make me look like one of those great thinkers or at least the sculpture by August Rodin? But no, that is just plain emotion toying with my conscience and eating up my youth. Snap snap! Day dreaming is over. There is a pile of work waiting on the table. Speaking of high achiever, highly driven, high goals, highlights! Oh, why not just look at the height of my own procrastinated work right? My conscience is reprimanding me. Again. Truth is, I have plans, I have intention to realize them but most of the time I think that screwing the plans makes it double as cool so I decided against them. Guilty. Swallowing real hard here.

 

Me, being here is not bad at all. Closed on by these 4 walls. But at least I am breathing a different kind of air. Well, that is if the air has different races too like us. Everyday I tell myself this. Everyday I wake up at the screeching sound of my alarm clock to my utter annoyance. Everyday I need to pause in front of my wardrobe filled with winter clothes and decide what to wear now in the middle of spring. That is when I regret not bringing some of my one of a kind T-Shirts I inherit from my mum, not to mention vintage and completely amusing seeing as the age of it is older than I am and people usually suggest tentatively that its shabbiness will not hold it up any longer. Hah, tear down along the seams all it wish! It would be amusing. Even it might possibly be my body that it is betraying. Whoa, did I just say that? Hah!

 

More than a couple of asians who have stayed here long enough, tell me how much dislike they have bottled up for the Germans since they come to this land of fancy car brands. I am deciding to weigh the feedback I get. No, Germans are not unfriendly, uptight, rules-obliging, boisterous around beer and desperate for individuality. They are just a nation that God created to be knitted together with the others to form this quilt insulating the warmth of mankind. Not that they smile a lot to generate enough of the warmth to contribute to that. But still.

 

When we actually start to stop finding distinctions between those nuances of the clay moulded faces of ours, we might actually be achieving something together. Easy for me to say, says the realist. And no, I’m not trying to make an impression here talking about mankind so skip the possibility of me being an impressionist. I am just the worst kind of all- a dream-ist. I just dream and hope and pray that everyday I wake up, it is not about the crude wake-up call, not about the clothes, not about the weather. But about hearts and souls of people. How are you doing today? And there is surely got to be more than a mere “fine, thank you!” because I look at you and see in you something that you miss.

 

So I am just here writing about a theme that has no place in this passage. I just need to say “Voila!” to you, out there. Yes, you. It’s you. God cares about you.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          And so the babble continues How much does it requires to be excited, to step out, to cross the one gap that stands between? One but gigantic. How much faith does a person need to believe? How many times does one need to cry out to acquire the deserved attention? When does living become dependent upon a structure of contacts? How could a person in this modern 21th century where networking, broadcasting and advertising shout out the big word ,,Communication” but the only thing he’s in touch with is his own lonesone soul?                                                                          As the train is cutting through the green fields and barns sweep pass my window, I give these questions the benefit of space in my mind. Since caffein has granted access for them to enter my thoughts, the more I ruminate on these the more the answers lead to more questions. A being. Existence is a fascinating thing. The dimensions that exist to allow objects to occupy. And occupation leads to visualisation and senses. Visualisation and senses lead to recognition which leads to usage. It still doesn’t explain all the questions dumped above. The truth is just that humans can’t understand and get everything. We are just one of those existing things occupying space and time. And we will pass. After space and time have both come to an agreement to do some ,,cleaning up”. Do we exist in another dimension then?

I am not trying to be morbid. Nor am I trying to undertake the entire Immanuel Kant’s theory of existence. Because after one big circle, people might just say it’s all about the purpose driven life, about using your existence to a full extend. Either selfish or selfless, they are both ways to use it. We can’t really judge. But we have a guide. To offer us a completion to our existence.                          Once again, I am not making a propaganda for a doctrine. I am just benefiting from the world’s all time bestseller- the Bible. Unlike the thing that i do there, the Bible doesn’t babble;) I don’t sound convincing. It’s however not the point here to be convincing. I am just extracting the crossed and tangled links of my thoughts out here to dispose them. Sorry if you have been expecting some booming remarks at the end. There’s just none. Nada. Scusi. But it’s not a prank:) It’s really just removing the neurons strain by strain and placing them one after another’s end, linking my thoughts that leads to a fuzzy space.

 

Babble II

This is one of those times when i realize i’ve chosen the wrong path (in the woods where two roads diverge, yes, Mr. R. Frost). It would be so nice so i can get an assignment where the only thing i need to do is to think. Not about those complicated technical mechanics calculations. For those passing lives of my ancestors, spare me. But about lives, people, fate, the evil inevitable life circle that everyone is bound to follow. I wonder why people waste so much time solving those questions about the forces on each rod supporting a complicated framework while conveniently ignoring those thirst and hunger, yearnings of individuals, of the saxophonist in front of the train station, of the old man that smells like old beer at the underground railway, of the half torn poster promoting a cultural event but who knows how many are responding, of the bored guy scooping noodles into a polysterene box in the chinese takeaway place – all of these build up the human framework of society. How ironic it is that engineering is supposed to provide the people and supply them with convenience under the benefits of technology while the only thing that cries out from their sunken eyes is for a little bit of care and an affectionate touch or a concerned pat on the shoulders. Or even spaghetti and a little bit of oregano for the starving.

I wish i could be like the girl that works in this multimillion-turnover sales-making company that doesn’t care if the employees spend too much on coffee and rebate it back from the company. That way i can maybe buy a hot latte or something for those people i mentioned, dropping cups off the sideways for the homeless and street wanderers or rangers in the open air;) (just a nicer way to put it). Of course it’s just one of my many fantasies.

At the end of all these on and on going about my thoughts I still need to understand and to picture the kind of legacy i want to leave. That is a courageous step considering the embarrassment at the end of the semester when the unachieved goals come face to face with the incapable achiever, summoning flushed cheeks. i shudder at the thought. So, God, it’s all up to You. I’m setting the goals that You want me to set while setting aside my fear and anxiety. The steps that lead to realizing them, i completely surrender. You’re in control Captain!

Babble III

So it’s a free day. Instead of the self-psychoing to finally pick up my book and study, I set my mind free on a wandering today. Sounds like unleashing your dog on a stroll but yeah, it was what i did. So my mind was just drifting, bubbling on the windy weather, the cloudy day and i was feeding on chocolate and chips, getting my mind to be all junked up and lazing on my lazy sack. Then it just goes through bits and pieces of my history, familiar faces and paused at a particular place, retrieved the file that contained what happened back in Heilbronn, dusted the cover, opened it, tracing back every moment.

It froze at the moment in the eating hall. I and my bad food. A blur face and his big plate of salad and wine. I guess it was because i didn’t have my contact lenses on and he was provoking me with his tongue-smacking and deliberate slow chewing so i unleashed my tongue on a sarcasm feast. So before i know it’s spitting sarcastic remarks to the wine-drinking smoky eyed guy opposite me. It didn’t end when i resided with a cup of Asam tea to the activity room, consulting some documents. When he walked in with the heavily french accented ,,mademoiselle sarcastic”, i smile, and adjusted myself to conversation mode. Among math. racing, teasing his french accent and playing the eye contact game, we introduced ourselves in a casual heartfelt way that made us instant teasing partners. The shirt was a real cheap one, he said, with ,,world without strangers” written on it. A phone call ended the conversation short but he left something scribbled at the bottom of the math. solution ,,you are my favorite malaysian girl because i love sarcastic people.” uhhuh.

One evening, I found him in front of the girls’ room, throwing inviting looks, willing me to join in the conversation he was having. That resolved later to a trip down the cellar. I remember how he had glided down the banistor and bumped into me, with his hands on my waist then brushed off leisurely with a ,,oopss, forced  contact..sorry!”. It made me laugh and my heart wiggled. I recalled his cute face and folded palms in front of his crotch asking for some washing detergent. He was getting himself in a dangerous position back then- a position that landed straight on my soft spot cause i have a thing for guys that make cute faces.

On a snowy day, we bumped into each other. We went for ice cream on his treat and catching snow flakes on our tongues on the way to the ice cream parlour. I had Raffaelo. That changed my ice cream flavour perference forever. So he and his theories about enjoying ice cream slowly, enjoy life, be casual and sponteinity. We went into his school, the building with classy bricks, a design school that is filled with exploding creativity. We were just locking eyes. His smoky eyes. And then we took the tram back to the youth hostel. I would never know what he did there behind me at the glass, all those silly faces and the knowing secretive smile the whole tram ride back. We passed a horse stable and he just fired me with a horseback riding proposal right then and there. i was….yup, just like this, filled with lots of dots trailing behind that thought. We made an appointment with the stable keeper which we never turned out or brought up after that. I remember the way he stroke the mane of the horse and the long fur of the stable dog. His strokes were gentle, inviting, comforting, caring and loving.

That night itself we went jogging in the snow covered park, slided down a dark tunnel, turned the mini caroussel until our heads got so dizzy and the world was just a fuzz and the only thing we were focusing on was each others’ eyes. He climbed the monkey net and disappeared into one of the coconut shell looking cave. Completely surprised me with his sudden appearance. We hid inside for what seem like forever, so restricted in that small space, at close proximity, his eyes, our bubbling feelings, my excitement hearing his acrobat career in circus, his smoky eyes, our laughter and his terrible english but magnetic accent especially the ,,what je…”s, it was swirling and tangling and cooking in the limited air. Like the way too much logs but limited oxygen produce. it was a perfect night. the walk in the woods. at the lake where there was a tiny castle in the middle, the stories he told and karma, which he believes. Then came the back jog. He swept me off and carried me on his shoulders claiming my speed was too snail pace.

I remembered every word he said. Every suave move he made, pouring the wine, laying the cheese slice by slice on my plate as we ate in the deserted eating hall, the place where we first talked or rather, first provoked. My face was blushed because of the wine. My head spun a bit because of the romance and his smoky eyes. Or perhaps, the way he deliberately combed his hair back in an attractive way and casually left his top buttons of his white shirt opened.

So, it goes on….my mind was flipping through pages. Traveling through the past, second by second. And I know it’s really woozy and cosy to look and peruse every moment and scene, but i know i could also file it away and have a life time to come back and savour it. Every moment of it. This is something that changed my life forever, that left a mark. Both tragic and nostalgic.