An accident happened at work last Tuesday. I was at a meeting that attempts to bring the higher education and local school communities together.
A chair collapsed under me and I fell flat to the ground while munching on a piece of cookie while the participants were sharing their reflection about where to go from there.
After I felt on my butt and got up from the floor, I still have the remaining piece of the cookie in my hand.
All eyes were on me-- in shock, in concern, and in everything else-- regardless where they came from.
My immediate response was to look at that piece of cookie—in good health and in one piece. Then, I looked at the crowed with curiosity or else. “It seems like I am too heavy for the chair. I might have to stop munching on the cookie.” So I said.
They had a good laugh and went back to discuss whatever was in their mind.
I sat there still in shock while getting a bit woozy in my head.
It was later did I realize that, the point the accident took place, instantaneously did a partnership form among the rest of the participants with what happened to me in their mind, regardless how they went on interpreting the situation.
After the meeting, I went to check on the chair—realizing the chair was already broken before and someone apparently tried to fix it with a single nail.
My laughing it off might have dissolved the attention at the moment. Unfortunately, the impact of the strategy did not extend to the consequential aches, pains, discomfort and inconvenience as a result of the unfaultable fall.
Essentially, the impact of the fall finally hit me about 30-40 minutes later as I started moving. My back and neck started to become extremely sore. I started to feel like passing out and my speech sort of incoherent. When the paramedics came, I couldn’t even have my eyes open for long enough to take a good look of them—men in uniform. Stayed awhile in ER, finally got a few of the pain killers and muscle relaxant before they took all those CAT scan and X-ray.
Before they released me, high on the meds, they put me in one of those rooms for possibly observation purposes.
The last time I was in one of those rooms--- I, for the first time, almost di harm to myself because of the voices. It was also the day when I was told that I am only human and I am no Buddha. The world was in a state of apocalypse where nothing but annihilation. All things alive died and, later, so did Gods, spirits, ghosts, zombies, and anything else imaginable except for those demonic. They came through my body before proceeding to that state of evaporation, or, non-existence. It was one of those days when I would die a thousand deaths per day but I just could not die while everyone else was eligible for that congenital right. The only thing I could do to help is to have a heart so vacuous that nothing would get attached. So shall I see through all things in order to see no good, no bad, no in-between—no nothing. Where did I get these ideas? God knows… gotta have something to do with my cultural background.
This time, another one of those butt concussions, I guess. lol
Over a week later, I am still living the aftermath of the laughing-it-off.
Thought I could have gotten over the whole 9 yards and back to live my routine life. Today, the aches and pains have gone from ranging between “the head the lower back” to from “head to heel.” Never knew that my body could be innovative to such an extent… lol And, although I could work on days when I am drugged out like a walking zombie or on days when old drugs got me poisoned to the extent that my body retains not a drop of water, for once in my life, I really have to take off from work and be home to stay put for more than a day or two—or more exactly, for 1 week and more.
The good thing about ordinary workdays is that it is possible to take time off the working mode after work. The bad thing about being sick on workdays is that, paid or not paid, you cannot take time off the pains you want to get rid off. Moreover, new injuries seem to have triggered the old injuries—as a result, the new and the old injuries, together, trying to compose my life’s symphony or cacophony at their own chosen time and their preferred forms.
Just when I was thinking about how much time I have wasted the whole year on mental and physical health-related issue, a mail came to my lawyer’s inbox from immigration, stating that, to show that I am an extraordinary alien, they need me to show them more and even more.
They want to see more of the honors and awards be granted to me national or internationally.
They want to see more of the peers to praise me and cite my work, publicly, in print, on TV, or on Radio.
These are the ordinary criteria needed for a streamlined selection process of alien inclusion.
Yet, shall ordinary be the synonym of normal, given that no longer am I aspired to be normal (actually given up), neither is it of great consequences for me to be abnormal or extraordinary.
I don’t want fame and I don’t want name. I don't want to learn for the sake of writing but write for the sake of reflecting on my learning. I don’t want to publish for the sake of publishing and being recognized for being what I am not entitled of. All that I want is (in addition to make a good living lol) to to love, to live and to work (lieben, leben und arbeiten)—and, perhaps, to envision a world without boundaries (lol).
10 years of my adulthood is not a short time. So, by the time the immigration ships me home, let me sing you, America, this song, “Don’t cry for me America, the truth is I never left you… ” lol
35+ change years old. Perhaps, it is time for me to stop cheating myself and say no to not living up to my life’s standard.
Just as shit happens… shift also happens.
I shall say yes to baking, painting and enjoying life and its unfolding (such as the headache that would not go away since this afternoon’s physical therapy session lol).
No longer shall I wait till God let me get knocks down to the floor or poisoned by my old drug—to pick up that paint brush to make a thank you card, green card or not, married or not, healthy or not, full time job or not, rich or not, everything I want and its counterpart or not, and, most importantly, vacuous or not.
Also don't worry about me sitting to long typing... for it took me over 5 hours on and off to finish this writing for the love of writing.
Pains and aches... time will take them away eventually.
Green card? In God's hand and the evaluators' hand. Have mercy... please.
