Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Near the Point of No Return

Camp NaNoWriMo 2015 word count: 46,545

I tried to finish "10th Commandment" last night.

I've created a new writing playlist, "The Third Move." "Liwanag sa Dilim" by Rivermaya is a Tagalog song whose title translates to "Light in the Dark." It's actually the quietest song from Rivermaya. The song follows the same theme as all of the other songs in the playlist. I just need to add some shine of goodness in the plot.

By 4am, though, a woman I'd call Edna asked me to visit a link on my laptop because she can't visit it from her laptop. I did. But once I was there, she said that her own laptop finally reached the link. She said that I didn't have to help anymore, and told me to close my browser. So I closed my browser and went on with writing.

About two minutes later, she asked me to visit the same link on my laptop again. She said she lost connection to it. I opened my browser again and went to the link. Once there, she said that she had reconnected. "Close the browser again." I did.

This went on for more than three times. It would have been fine if I was just watching videos on YouTube or talking with a friend, but writing a novel requires my full concentration.

It was like, So I'm in this scene where the search spans a wider area and Gerald learns that one of the volunteers has the same name as him. He is worried, and the volunteer is concerned. They learn to get along as they speak. Then I have that full impression on my mind and write through that. Then someone would interrupt, making me do a whole different thing.

It's like the whole world of my fiction dissolves into thin air when she interrupts. And after she makes me close the browser, I'd recreate the scene on my mind again. And then it gets dissolved by her again. And so on. I got a terrible headache in three minutes.

After around her fifth interruption, when she told me to close the browser again, I just sarcastically said, "No, I'll wait until you make me open it again."

I sat back, closed my eyes and tried to think of nothing to let go of my headache. These headaches don't come from sleeplessness or hunger. They come from frustrations. After listening to some songs and watching funny videos on YouTube, my headache was gone. But it was replaced by extreme sleepiness.

Woke up a few hours later to hear a woman, who I'd call Maureen, yelling at Edna about disturbing her while she was working at her laptop. So Edna didn't stop. I had a schedule to chase NaPoWriMo 2015 Day Twenty-Eight, but the two women were totally angry. Maureen was accusing Edna of intentionally destroying her work, and Edna was accusing Maureen of having been angry all along. Then their argument reached many different topics that had no connection to the present.

When they're like this, they'll include anyone who they see in their fight. I know them well. I had three future scenarios:

1. I'd wake up and go to my own laptop. They'd pick a fight with me. I'd refuse to be provoked, and just suffer as they pelt me with their insults for hours. But I'd still publish my blog post on time.

2. I'd wake up and go to my laptop. If they won't stop yelling at me, I'd fight back. And win. And get excluded from their social lives for one month because I won another argument with them. That has happened so many times before. They hate it when I win because I'm far younger than both of them.

3. I'd pretend to be asleep until they finish fighting.

I chose the third scenario. Keeping up with the time zone of NaPoWriMo just doesn't seem to be worth having to suffer like that. That's why I'm late today.

By the way, I reviewed "The Interview" on Bubblews the other night. Now, I'm still looking for something to review.

For NaPoWriMo 2015 Day Twenty-Eight, we are to write a poem about a bridge. There was only one bridge I can think of that I've always written about in my poems.

I actually kind of hate this poem because it's abstract and it goes back to my old form of poetry: elegy. I wrote a lot of elegy when I was a new poet. It's inspired by what most people call near-death experience, or NDE. It's inspired by my own NDE. It happened sometime between when I was 11 and 15. My old poem, "NDE," was also about it. (Photo credit: me)

The Travel
All those lights and shadows.
World of joyful voices
In the comfortable glows
Of my old friend no less.
Just following the light
Of my real home tonight.

And leaving the living,
So all these pains shall go.
Here I go, no feeling.
Their happiness grow
As I leave for their side.
By their calls I abide.

A connection between us.
What's between will and was.
Like mirror, like a glass.

I almost crossed the bridge
That was offered to me,
For there was not a ridge
And they made me feel free.
One day, I'll go back there,
Though I do not know where.
Post a Comment