The day that I lost my mind was an endless set of rollercoasters from ground zero gravity to by all means the sky. It was like those stories we learn in literature, the story went up well, had a climax and futhered on good enough. With ofcourse the exception that a story spans for atleast a week, yet mine took less than 12 hours. Fate knows how to manage her time for me it seems.
I spent my time back at home trying to get back to what I thought I had left but it turned out that was taken too. So I took all my letdowns to the sofa and slept until it was 15 minutes to seven, when I was supposed to break my fast. Sleep is a beautful thing, despite my soreneck from sleeping on the sofa and that grumpy after effect of afternoon naps, it did take my mind off the fact that my ego and reputation was at stake. I couldn’t remember what I dreamed of, probably nothing, or probably my mind was just going along the lines of the F word to blind whatever my mind was worrying about before I slept.
The second half of the day was just as bitter as the defeat that blow the very same afternoon. I found myself aranging my father’s cd collection nearly twice, while aranging the ones on the shelf according to colour coordination. So here I am now, just after snapping at my father, who came in dancing like Maya Karin to make me think a pontianak came into my room. His sense of humour is quite mind boggling actually.
So there I was, wanting to complain to him about his company’s E-Solution, when its very obvious that the old man won’t understand a gibberish I say. Apparently, the company’s asp program has an error so my dad can’t get his webmail. At first he thought it was because I was using Mozilla, not the crapped up IE that apparently has been updated with the new service pack. After a few minutes, he gave up from my irritation and I got back to listening to Tim Foreman sing about how he doesn’t belong here.
So there it was, the day I got 3 trophies from the school, shaky results and a C from my art teacher who said my art looked more like graphic design- therefore “salah format”. Which I do disagree but if she wants it in one frame, then I can’t question. I am mentally stable thank you very much, and I’m not going to say all art is useless. Because in the end, not all art perishes. The soul is an art and now, that won’t perish will it?
We are a beautiful let down, painfully uncool,the church of the dropouts and losers and sinners and failures and the fools, oh what a beautiful let down, are we salt in the wound, let us sing one true tune.
I don’t belong here.