what happens when you try to write in the wee hours of the morning…

Reading from other blogs and taking cue from famous writer’s habit of writing, I decided I’d wake up early in the morning and take in the bliss of wee hours just before the day breaks, absorb its peacefulness and be inspired. I’ve already got something in mind, and like a repeating chorus line in your head, “have to write, need to write, have to write, need to write.” it keeps repeating itself over and over again.

So I wake up. It’s dark and cold but warm under the sheets. I roll over, sit up, look around, can’t see much, although its dark in my room, there’s a ghostly light streaming in from  outside the windows.

Damm.. its cold”, the breeze outside was turning the room into a fridge cooler. I pull up the sheets to my chin, doing an indian seat and forming like a teepee, I was comfortably warm enough. Though my eyelids were pretty heavy and my brain feels like lead, I closed my eyes repeating my mantra, “have to write, need to write, have to write, need to write.” and before I knew it, I fell fast asleep, slump face down, a teepee without sticks and a good whole hour has already gone by.

I dreamed I was drinking from a glass but couldn’t feel the water because instead of drinking it in, the water was coming out of my mouth. “Huh?!” woke up. Drool was an Asian land map on my bed sheets as I realized, I fell asleep in a contortionists’ twist. My legs and bottom was still on a half indian seat, my torso inclined as it accommodated  my head on its downward bend, the whole left side of my face, shoulders and legs was already feeling dull and uncannily prickly.

“Geeshh.. aching stupid stiff neck,” with numb shoulders and arms, I slowly stretched my body in a more normal position and let  the blood slowly trickle in again thru the veins. The pricking painful needles sensation was a pain waking me up. Now I know why we should be offended when they call you a prick, this was how it actually feels, every movement like an echoing gong banging inside your flesh, repeating throbs, waning & ebbing as sensation was finding its way thru my limbs. I was slowly and painfully discovering half of my body again. I found out thru agony that chanting mantra, doin like Son Goku inside your head to force yourself into action was not effective in wee hours of the morning, well, not for me at least.

Counting the hours left before the whole world wakes up, minus the need to prepare myself up for work, I gathered I was just in time… if I go to work, but since I promised myself I’d write this day, maybe I’ll just take the time off from the day job just so I could finish with this writing, be off and done with it, kill the bugging chorus line in my head.

Maybe fate or circumstance or destiny or something like that, is an entity, you think? Because as with all things bright and beautiful, even before we actually start on what our plans maybe, we often get distracted en route to the goal of all things bright and beautiful. It would always feel like a log is thrown at your tracks on the last mile of your run, making you limp to the finish line. Destiny is an antagonist and distractions are his evil intentions designed to challenge, to test your patience, waiting on the sidelines to laugh his evil laugh once you fail. You’re already there, you’ve planned it all along and can see how it would end only to have all of this obstacles thrown in your way of winning moments. This day was a sublime example of how to be graceful in skating off utter frustration. It kills, you know, both the grace and the frustration part.

I’ve already made a mental schedule in my head. Take a bath first, call in sick at the office, pour myself good coffee, bring it to the laptop station, write until midmorning, breakfast, write until lunch, do budgeting, edit write-up until evening, post publish then have a beautiful dinner, spend a fine evening together with the children. Now that would count as a bright and beautiful day.

So I took the towel, entered the bathroom opened the tap, then a smack just above my knee sent me spiralling sideways. I suddenly found an avalanche of water gunning at my thighs. The faucet, loosened its head off, the spigot hit me just above the knee. From the prickles of numb, now a missile launched spigot, another pain, this day is not turning out right. I was starting to think again, fate must have had me damned. Now I have to find a plumber in the early morning hours.. how? and while I’m at it, how do I stop this water gunning down from my bathroom wall?

Since I’m already wet and everything, I just bear it with the water gun, proceeded to finish my bath in record time, got dressed, all the while thinking of how to a stop the endless waterfall. I can almost hear the water bill doing a ka-ching, ka-ching sound of cash register in my head. I called the homeowners office, yep, they have a plumber around and will send him in as soon as possible. There was no way of stopping the deluge unless I turned off the main then plug the now water hole where once was a faucet. I found a piece of wood chunk in the backyard, from the size of it, thought it was a good plug as well as anything else. All girlie as I was, I chucked it in the open pipe, there, I was happy 🙂

“see it wasn’t that bad. You’re an outstanding independent woman who can do the fix it in her own house” hah… proud of myself, at least until I opened the main line again and the wooden plug easily came off like a coward lizard running away from the enemy, the deluge of wet reminding me of misery.

“This can’t be happening to me. :(“

Morning was turning into an atmosphere of warm perkiness since the sun was already making itself felt. Haven’t even started on any of my plans yet and the day was already going to halfway done. So I just  turned off the main line again and decided that any activities concerning water in this house is hereby declared illegal until the plumber comes in.

Ok, need to drink coffee, go to kitchen, no water for the coffemaker, hmmm… get it from the drinking bottles stored at fridge. Breakfast, need to wash knife to cut bacon… no water, ok bread will do. I like fruit, there’s a fine looking apple on the table, go to kitchen to wash apple, no water.. dammm… bread will do.Taking my bread and coffee to the dining cum work table, I sat down and proceeded to the day’s work.

Splash! A scream of panic, from somewhere inside the house, a barrage of native tongue colorful expletives bordering on description of someone’s mother was a cross between a bitch and an donkey’s arse, then a cow’s or was it a horse’s? vagina falling to the floor, next there was shouting and calling my name saying it was not her fault all that the house was drowning and she was in it. My house maid had just came in and was panicking at damaged water hole in wall. She was cleaning my room and was already at the bathroom when she thought that the only reason there wasn’t any water was because someone must have been stupid enough to close the main pipe to the house.

…yeah right.. whatever.

She did not notice the damaged hole. She remedied the problem, which is why, there is now the water fall again. I told her not to panic, just close the main and we would wait until the plumber comes in. But she was going to do the laundry, she insisted,

you can iron clothes instead…

already did that yesterday..

you can dust off the shelves…

already did that yesterday…

you can clean the children’s bedroom…

already did that yesterday, well for the girls room I did.

You’re son is a pig, Ate. His room is a cave of mess and I think there’s already another life form living in that God knows whatever it is that’s stacked together with those pile of smelly old clothes. It looks like it has a face of its own, Ate, with eyes already staring at you, following you wherever you go. I am afraid to go inside the room, I will clean the room Ate, only if you will go inside with me.

So now my son has the alien predator for a pet. She was often right on most occasions, and with deep breaths again.. for lack of anything better to do, we cleaned the room. For the better part of the day, I dusted, segregated, picked off dried gum, rewired those dangling cables on his stupid computer, folded clothes inside the closet, and added another mountain of dirty clothes to the laundry. Dusted off the alien beings from their habitat and the spooky eyes owned by a year old coat lumped near the headboard was designated to the laundry also. I was in that better place, it was that moment when you get that feeling which goes… what my son doesn’t know won’t hurt him, unless he tries to find out himself *smugface*

We were halfway done when the plumber arrived. It was early in the afternoon. This time, I was multi-tasking on supervising the general cleaning services and the house administration repairs. It took almost two hours for the plumbing to get repaired and me driving to a local hardware to buy needed materials.

Before I knew it, the afternoon sun was setting, it was time to prepare for dinner. I was feeling like a big hairball of muck so I decided to shower again, my trusted househelp can deal with the dinner. I carefully opened the bathroom fixture deciding that if this blows off again, I promise I’d put arsenic on that cup of coffee before I offer it to the repairman, fortunately, it didn’t.

Me and my children sat down to dinner with my newly washed plates and galore each other with the stories of the day. My son gave me a stare down which I answered with a feigned innocent look when I told him I cleaned out his room. He knew better than to complain. The girls were giggling at my help’s anecdotes on her bloopers with faucet. We watched our favorite TV show together then each retired to our bedrooms. As predicted, it was a fine evening together with my children who turned out as beautiful as their mom.

As I was laying down my bed, a nagging chorus line was ringing in my head. “have to write, need to write, have to write.. .need to write.” But I was tired and wanted to sleep…

have to write, need to write, have to write.. .need to write.” Ok fine you win, but I’m not doing this in the wee hours of the morning, I’m going to do this tonight until wee hours of the morning. If I come to work tomorrow looking like a zombie, there will be always break times to catch sleep.

Besides that’s what day jobs are for, working like you’re a zombie and get paid for it.

Advertisements

what do you think? :)

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: