Currently i am being hurled across the atlantic puddle, in a gigantic big metal tin can. Funny enough, i never thought i would be commuting back and forth to europe this often. Okay, may be once a twice a year have been the norm while i was in school. It suddenly changed last year: may, then christmas. In june, then once again now, in middle of september. And with another one already booked under the belt for the yuletide. The power of human desire is strong. Not only it ables the design and building of such machine as airplain, it also bring the gap of five hours (gmt-est) into a mute point at will. Well, it does have a reasonable costs attached to it- the time and financial resources allocation would be the first thing that usually come up to the mind, but it’s a little more softer and fuzzier than that- it’s the simple human desire to be loved. At whichever cost. As long as the cost is not higher than the personal joy derived from the relationships.
Though i love fish’s company very much in many different forms- i cannot imagine how many words have been exchanged, how many images and images have been shared, nevermind the occasional reminders and day-musings done independently, this year, the beginning of the visits are always accompanied by a small amount of guilt. Much like the necessary yet never-so-pleasant proceedings of physical travel itself. I remember the first flight i ever took in my life. It was rather exciting. I think i was under the age of ten. My mother have organized a trip with other moms/kids to send us off in a plane, to je-ju-do, an island off the coast of south korea. The flight was approximately forty minutes long- literally up, then down. We were all served a cup of fizzy sodas and i thought i was in heaven. We were never given any soda at home, nevermind the thought of making your very own selection!
Haha. Since then, i have travelled quite a mileage by perhaps the one of the most unnatural motion known to human beings. And times really have changed, as i notice the new security measures (most of them overzealous yet incredibly poor once implimented), the rising prices in the news agent shop, the very fact that buying bottled water have became the norm! Back when i first flew, only people who regularly bought water were probably the europeans- i am making a gross assumption here. No one warned us about the slow-reaching BHT and its deadly ability. Or the fact that one can no longer physically transport a large amount of water (larger than 3 oz? Are you nuts?) through the security points.
But like everything else in life, one gets used to the routines, especially when it is thrusted upon our faces. No liquid? Fine, i suppose. Things are much simpler when one is simply being told rather than given a choice or being encouraged to argue upon. So like many nuisances of daily grind, perhaps it will become a rather nostalgic remembrance than a real inconvenience. Remember the days when airlines gave you free pens and postcards? Har har har.
It’s been only two weeks since i sent off mr. Fish. This wait perhaps is the shortest one that we have shared. However, it seems that loads of things have happened for no particular reason. Birthdays from family, small happenings of friends, visitors, etc. And the most impacting was my dad’s birthday. Everyone in my family is having crappy birthdays this year. Collectively. It is difficult to rejoice birth when one is so freshly wounded from loss of death. And while i have been able to be somewhat carefree about what i do (in relation to what ‘they’ wished i would do), it’s been a bit of a pressure cooker. No one is entirely satisfied. And- there are no immediate solutions, if any.
So with gene pools’ invisible grips on my mind, i am tied down on a small space in the tin can, hurled across the body of water with a great speed. And i wonder if this rituals of trips- mixture of excitement, expectations, guilt, loss, sorrow and happiness, would ever change. Perhaps it’s like trail mixes. No handfuls are exactly the same.
I think of the ideal situation where everyone is happy with my movements and decisions. And have a small laughter. It’s almost as cute as the hope of air travel getting easier and nicer. Phahahahahaha. Then i realize that there are still loads of good things. As i talked to my mother, she could not help but to send a bit of audible love for me through the phone. Approximately five or so hours from now, i will be greeted by an excited fish. There are talks of chamber music and much spices. Perhaps even a trip to a whippet breeder. House fixing and general carpentry. Mixing mortar and see if i remember anything at all. That kinds of joy. Small but real ones, only available when one is aware.
So with hope of being knocked off my feet through a temporary chemical alteration (weirdly, this time im quite awake. It shouldve sent me off to la-la land asap), i am closing this thought with fragments of various emotions and wishes. Perhaps just like fairy dust, it’ll be sprinkled over the ocean, may be some might even reach other live beings. How nice. Just like those silly letter in the bottle concept. Love to you all.