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January 2005 Archives

Hulk Smash

Thank you for all your prayers, concern and well-wishes. I’m doing much better. Faith and I actually made up the very night I wrote the last entry.

The over-active thyroid does things to me. I’ve always added a pinch of salt whenever people blamed their actions on their hormones. But here I am, disproportionately angry at anything that buzzes my radar tower. Faith said that even though my hormones are acting up, there always is a choice involved, but the moment of choosing is more like an instance of choosing; before you actually choose the act, you’ve acted. I find myself doing things I normally wouldn’t do. I drive a little faster, I get a little angrier, I’m more incredible Hulk than Bruce Banner. There are times it feels like I’m looking down on myself doing those things, unable to reconcile will and body.

I’m learning how to deal with this. I know medication will help; and I am on my prescribed medication, but I don’t want this phase of my life quenched without having fully tasted the Hyde that completes Jekyll. Well, maybe not fully tasted, but a sip is an entire doorway to self-discovery.

We’re all wretched people, you know? We’re all messed up, and hiding behind our routines and busyness, our thin veneer of civility. Shawn Colvin’s “Never saw blue like that before” plays endlessly on repeat. I’ve never seen blue so black, and yet it is the black that gives the dark blue its regal soothing hue.

Bed of Roses

There are two types of suicidal tendencies: the first, where you want to kill yourself so that everybody else will be sorry for all they did to you; and the second, where you want to die so you’ll be less of a burden to the people around you.

I found myself lying in bed a moment ago thinking the latter. While I could attribute it to my hyperthyroidism, it is the culmination of my many “failures”, all choosing to stare in my face at the same exact moment.

We had a few fellow farmers come into our village a few days back. I was tending to my rice seedlings when these expert farmers came to visit. They were renowed in their fields (haha).

It was clear that they had taken a liking to another young farmer across the street. She had been scouted by big agricultural companies and was working for one of the largest.

So I’m doing my planting and they come over to see how I did what I did. When they saw that I had placed the seedlings in tiny clay pots they screamed at my incompetence, loud enough for the entire village to hear. I was enraged, but my anger was impotent as they were the famous, and I the unheard of.

I planted in little clay pots because the soil of my village was wet and loose. I did it in order to allow the roots to find strength. The methods the experts were preaching were useful for their own colder and more mountainous climate.

I sat there embarassed that I was singled out for correction. I went home, lay on my bed and told my wife all that had happened, indignant that I did not receive any form of apology. She said that experts were always that way, and that it was I who should give in. I reasoned with her, and after a while I realised that it was me. She thinks I’m the one going nuts. She believed that I was the one who didn’t know how to keep my farm, or never took care of the seedlings.

Finding no solace and stung by my bedside companion who lay there nonchalantly reading a scroll, I came here to rant.

I came here to rant so that the bad thoughts would go away.

Updates

It has been quiet here for the past week because I found that nothing I could say seemed relevant in light of the recent tragedy. The numerous methods of donating money were all over the web and telly. No observation of life or funny joke was more deserving of my reflection than a moment of silence.

That being said, quite a few people have wondered if I were still living. I’m came home from the US five days earlier. I had initially planned to surprise Faith, but somewhere between San Diego and Los Angeles, I couldn’t bear her holding back her tears and told her I was driving to the airport, and flying back Christmas Day.

Many things happened in the US. On the flight there, I developed an allergy to the hyperthroidism medication I had been taking for two weeks. I started scratching my feet while in the plane, and by the time I landed, I had hives all over my legs. 3 hours of driving to Palm Springs later, the allergy was making its way to my neck.

A couple of doses of anti-histamine and two days later, the driving resulted in back spasms that hurt quite badly. If you talked to my parents you would have thought I was dying, but it wasn’t really that bad. Parents tend to exaggerate things.

There are many other things, but I’ll save them up for a more robust posting.

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