Tea with Milk And Sugar by Angelo Calilap
Introduction
People say that your bedroom is an approximate reflection of your life. If this is true, then my life is an absolute mess. The multi-color vitamin water bottles combined with empty cigarette packs that have accumulated on my computer desk in the past months must explain why I can’t get things together in my every day situations. My guitar is out of tune, I have the slightest clue where my remote control is, and I have to smell my shirts before putting them on just to make sure that it wasn’t the one I wore the last time I consumed way too much alcohol, and became best friends with a public toilet at some random bar in New York City. I glance at my bed every other week or so, trying to remember who it was that made the stains on my brand new red sheets from Ikea, and whether it was just drool from my slumber, or some other bodily fluid from sexual encounters. Repulsive isn’t it?
Its strange how hidden between all this material confusion that takes up most of the space in my walk-in-closet sized bedroom, there is still a weird sense of organization, neatness, and cleanliness. I wonder why it is that it is a strenuous process for me to fold up all my jeans in a neat pile and place them in my drawer, yet I can spend hours upon hours organizing my hundreds upon hundreds of songs on my laptop in alphabetical order, and by genre of music as well. I also make myself laugh in the sense that I have such difficulty finding my car keys before I depart from my house, yet I can always remember with clarity where my favorite lighter is when I search for it. Human beings think too way much, or maybe I just do. Sometimes I don’t know what’s more harmful, thinking too much, or not thinking at all. I am beginning to believe that I am an anti-thesis of my own existence. Above my dusty television set are two books, one about happiness of self, life, and soul, and the other on anarchism. What am I doing to myself? I have the slightest clue, but hey, this is my life. I don’t know whether I agree with it or not, or whether I enjoy it. All that I know is that it has been happening every day, and every night for the past 20 years.
to be continued...