What now?
Somehow, I imagined that after completing my studies I'll be free as a bird and... well... be doing a lot more writing. The operative word here is imagine. The current situation could not be further from the truth (or half truth).
Yes, it is true that I am as free as a bird now. Which brings to mind this horrid scene that I witnessed first-hand yesterday morning.
Every morning I buy my usual cup of milk tea and breakfast from the canteen below my office. However, yesterday morning was anything but usual. As I entered the canteen, a gory and unforgettable sight greeted me. First, I saw a mess of black feathers strewn all over the floor. It seemed to me that a bird which was flying past that area suddenly regarded itself overweight (maybe it saw its own reflection on the metal railing) and decided to conveniently shed some weight. I know the phrase (another overused one) "as light as feathers", which denotes the essentially non-existent weight of feathers, but really, that is about the only thing that a vain bird could lose at such short notice. I shuddered when I saw the black feathery mess, but nothing could prepare me for what I saw next, which left my innards in spasms.
When I turned into the canteen, BAM! Blood on the tiled floor! Alright, it is not a lot of blood, but a round spot, about the circumference of a basketball. The blood is not in a puddle, but looks messy, as if someone (or something) slid around (probably gleefully) in it, creating a splotchy bloody mess. There were more black feathers on the fringe of the bloody artwork. Immediately I knew the same weight-loss bird must be involved. Is the bird not satisfied and went into a weight-loss mania? Did it set itself down at that spot and started plucking at all its feathers till blood drip? Or worse, did it start to self-mutilate, hoping to lose chunks of weight the 'quick' way? It this a more diabolical maniacal version to bulimia??
I would have thrown up if not for the fact that I haven't yet had my breakfast and my stomach is currently empty. But I refused to dwell on the carnage and miraculously managed to work up an appetite for mee rebus. The mee rebus at my canteen is just "so yums". I love it. Anyhow, after consuming a rather filling breakfast, I bought tea and walked out the same way I entered.
BAM! Reminded of the carnage again. Stomach heaved. Mouth shut tightly. Stopped breathing. Eyes averted to avoid blood and feathers. Trying to be "as blind as a bat" but really, trying not to look is as difficult as trying not to think of elephants when someone asked you not to think of elephants. On the way out, the bird left one more 'gift' for me, a single limb (its leg) ripped from its body and carelessly 'hidden' behind a pipe. URGH. I have no idea why I caught sight of that. Have to swallow back vomit that was already vomited.
Now I'm pretty convinced that the vain weight-obsessed bird is dead, "as dead as the dodo" as they say. Pretty wiped out my appetite and motivation for work, really. No one can witness that and still walk away "as happy as a lark". Truly an unforgettable scene and a memorable experience.
I admit that the story is probably a little exaggerated. But hey, I'm just flexing my writing muscles here.
Yes, it is true that I am as free as a bird now. Which brings to mind this horrid scene that I witnessed first-hand yesterday morning.
...
Every morning I buy my usual cup of milk tea and breakfast from the canteen below my office. However, yesterday morning was anything but usual. As I entered the canteen, a gory and unforgettable sight greeted me. First, I saw a mess of black feathers strewn all over the floor. It seemed to me that a bird which was flying past that area suddenly regarded itself overweight (maybe it saw its own reflection on the metal railing) and decided to conveniently shed some weight. I know the phrase (another overused one) "as light as feathers", which denotes the essentially non-existent weight of feathers, but really, that is about the only thing that a vain bird could lose at such short notice. I shuddered when I saw the black feathery mess, but nothing could prepare me for what I saw next, which left my innards in spasms.
When I turned into the canteen, BAM! Blood on the tiled floor! Alright, it is not a lot of blood, but a round spot, about the circumference of a basketball. The blood is not in a puddle, but looks messy, as if someone (or something) slid around (probably gleefully) in it, creating a splotchy bloody mess. There were more black feathers on the fringe of the bloody artwork. Immediately I knew the same weight-loss bird must be involved. Is the bird not satisfied and went into a weight-loss mania? Did it set itself down at that spot and started plucking at all its feathers till blood drip? Or worse, did it start to self-mutilate, hoping to lose chunks of weight the 'quick' way? It this a more diabolical maniacal version to bulimia??
I would have thrown up if not for the fact that I haven't yet had my breakfast and my stomach is currently empty. But I refused to dwell on the carnage and miraculously managed to work up an appetite for mee rebus. The mee rebus at my canteen is just "so yums". I love it. Anyhow, after consuming a rather filling breakfast, I bought tea and walked out the same way I entered.
BAM! Reminded of the carnage again. Stomach heaved. Mouth shut tightly. Stopped breathing. Eyes averted to avoid blood and feathers. Trying to be "as blind as a bat" but really, trying not to look is as difficult as trying not to think of elephants when someone asked you not to think of elephants. On the way out, the bird left one more 'gift' for me, a single limb (its leg) ripped from its body and carelessly 'hidden' behind a pipe. URGH. I have no idea why I caught sight of that. Have to swallow back vomit that was already vomited.
Now I'm pretty convinced that the vain weight-obsessed bird is dead, "as dead as the dodo" as they say. Pretty wiped out my appetite and motivation for work, really. No one can witness that and still walk away "as happy as a lark". Truly an unforgettable scene and a memorable experience.
...
I admit that the story is probably a little exaggerated. But hey, I'm just flexing my writing muscles here.
.jpg)
Comments
Post a Comment