Weekend Fragments

I can never sleep with the lights off, at least not entirely. In my room, I keep a nightlight that I like to leave on even when it isn’t bedtime yet. The reason for this is my blinding room light, the wattage probably too much for a small room; when turned on there is no possibility of slumber, nor peaceful thinking. As we speak, the nightlight’s on, although it isn’t time to sleep just yet. It is time for reflection.

Three minutes before 10. Dimmed shadows cast all over my walls. Unprejudiced scent of the air conditioning unit. This is how my room looks, and feels, in the evenings. I remember the time when Joyce Carol Oates said that the greatest enemy of a writer would be distraction—it kills creativity. However, that is not the case for me, at least not at this very moment. Up high in the 27^th floor, you could say there’s hardly any distraction at all. How fortunate. So, I write. I reflect and I write about the day that has gone by. Let’s see.

I missed the sun rise today, somehow that made me feel hollow in the morning when I woke. There’s an intimacy when one rises at dawn, just before everyone else is awake, to watch the day’s light spread across the horizon. I will always prefer waking up at 5 a.m., and today I didn’t get to do that. Tomorrow, perhaps, I will. And then make tea first thing in the morning, chamomile—with two teaspoonfuls of honey. When I stir, the liquid spurs, I like watching it happen. It’s like admiring ripples of water but in a singular manner, in a circular motion. In your cup. On your tea that you get to drink right away, or maybe you wait until it’s just the right amount of warm before consuming it. Either way, tea is good in the morning.

Usually, I like to spare 5 minutes of my morning to look at the sun and its warm reflection bouncing off of the buildings below. Looking straight at the rays of light doesn’t blind me anymore. It’s rather comforting. There wasn’t any of that today but hopefully tomorrow there will be.

We ate lunch, as we always do a few minutes after 12. There was no watching of the television today, which is frankly always a delight. Lunch in full stillness.

Hold on, what do I write next? I always leave my drafts unfinished, in my files you’ll find short stories that are done only halfway. And it’s always such an anticlimactic feeling to start writing a piece only to run out of words to say, and at the end of the day you have no choice but to abandon it. Because the next time you try to work on it, the flow isn’t there anymore. Here, you have a story that never got its ending, and they are a multitude. This is how it is with me. I constantly struggle with the writer’s block. Now, I’m afraid even this entry would go unfinished. I have to keep writing.

In the afternoon, I went to the bookstore. It has been a few weeks since I last did. I intended to buy Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca because Goodreads says it’s a good book. Although I don’t trust Goodreads at all times, this one seemed convincing enough. There was no use at all. A lady in a purple cardigan got the only stock left, I was a few minutes late. What’s more, she had about twenty books in her cart, and they were the exact titles I have on my list that I also wanted to get copies of. Not on my plan today, still, it’s always nice to have your choices. However, she’s got them all. It was extremely frustrating, and honestly, she could’ve bought the store itself. She hogged the entirety of the fiction section—for a whole forty minutes. Obviously, there was none left for me. I had to leave with nothing and this put me in a bad mood the entire evening.

I am much calmer now. This dimness in my room as I write creates a cozy ambience, I’d say it pushes my creativity to action. I reserve ambient evenings like this for when I’m writing for pleasure, it seems I can only write academically for class when I have my bedroom light on. It’s bright and neat, which pushes me to focus, particularly in terms of academic writing. But that is not today. On Monday, perhaps. But it’s Saturday and rest has arrived, arranged to stay until tomorrow evening.

On that note, I am liking the weekend so far.