Everything Else Is Just Noise
I had been meaning to write for a long time, but the idea kept slipping away. On some random moments, I wish I had a pen and paper and I could simply write down my thoughts before they vanish. But ultimately, I let them dissipate into thin air. My mind wanders into many different things until I find myself falling asleep. I would tell myself, I am writing, forever, constantly, perpetually writing. Just not here. This part of my life, I choose to have it muted. An embargo of what goes on in every waking moment of it.
I write stuff. Silly stuff. Stuff my closest friends read--and laugh about. It's out there somewhere in the big web. Nothing deep or fancy. It's my escape, my way to get out of my world every day when it gets to be stultifying. I like getting into the head of somebody, imagine what kind of life that is. Construct a world where the outrageous happens and even the improbable. It feels good to not think so much about myself and shift my perspective elsewhere.
Last weekend, I flew, on a whim, to Bangkok to visit BIG and Tall friends. To most people, that would mean a busy weekend of touring the city and seeing the sights. For me, it meant hanging out in the lounge and plunging myself into a book with my coffee constantly refilled and some biscuits on the table while my friends were out shopping. When they returned, they asked me where I was and I told them that I was at the lounge--right where they left me--and if they could just go there because I was too settled to move.
There are some trips that are meant for sights and some trips that are meant for conversations. Last weekend was the latter. We talked and laughed until our coffee cups were replaced with goblets and our table was replaced with cocktails and canapés. The sun set and the moon rose, the city below us glittered into the night. That was a good weekend.
And that's how old I and my friends are getting. Our idea of a weekender is wine and canapés. No desire to be hip or be seen, we'd rather hide in our own corner and just let the laughter roll. And when the night goes deep, we are asleep. Because the most exciting moment for us comes when we wake up to a buffet breakfast, where we could spend another three hours in some random conversations. We have mellowed. With it comes a sense of quietude that never gets written down nor makes the most exciting stories to tell.
It feels different to be at my age. Every day, there's less and less ahead of me and more and more behind me. It gives focus to what really matters; everything else is just noise.
I write stuff. Silly stuff. Stuff my closest friends read--and laugh about. It's out there somewhere in the big web. Nothing deep or fancy. It's my escape, my way to get out of my world every day when it gets to be stultifying. I like getting into the head of somebody, imagine what kind of life that is. Construct a world where the outrageous happens and even the improbable. It feels good to not think so much about myself and shift my perspective elsewhere.
Last weekend, I flew, on a whim, to Bangkok to visit BIG and Tall friends. To most people, that would mean a busy weekend of touring the city and seeing the sights. For me, it meant hanging out in the lounge and plunging myself into a book with my coffee constantly refilled and some biscuits on the table while my friends were out shopping. When they returned, they asked me where I was and I told them that I was at the lounge--right where they left me--and if they could just go there because I was too settled to move.
There are some trips that are meant for sights and some trips that are meant for conversations. Last weekend was the latter. We talked and laughed until our coffee cups were replaced with goblets and our table was replaced with cocktails and canapés. The sun set and the moon rose, the city below us glittered into the night. That was a good weekend.
And that's how old I and my friends are getting. Our idea of a weekender is wine and canapés. No desire to be hip or be seen, we'd rather hide in our own corner and just let the laughter roll. And when the night goes deep, we are asleep. Because the most exciting moment for us comes when we wake up to a buffet breakfast, where we could spend another three hours in some random conversations. We have mellowed. With it comes a sense of quietude that never gets written down nor makes the most exciting stories to tell.
It feels different to be at my age. Every day, there's less and less ahead of me and more and more behind me. It gives focus to what really matters; everything else is just noise.
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