Ringing for Others
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Ringing for Others
I didnt know how to put them in words last week,didnt know how to express myself the right way,but that gloomy,grey look upon my face before book in.One couldve thought that i was down with a sort of flu,this disease at that very moment.But then again,if you think about,i was in a sort of nostaglic moment there.
Phone calls come and go,the way the disrupt the songs you listen on the computer,the shows you are watching on TV,or the movies on your Dvds.I used to hate those,the way they go through the house like tires upon tarmac.Come to think about it,the odds of a single phone call for me,looking for me that is,was about 2 of 15?It used to be more,way more back in the Secondary School days,when "Hey,i talked on the phone for five straight hours with a girl" was actually something that couldve made you sound cool.
It is lesser now,i realise.The way the phone rings and somebody rushes to pick them up.They are always for my parents,all the businesses.Their associates,their employees,partners,friends and relatives.When was the last time,a call was for me when i picked up,and not some idiotic woman from Times or Pioneer magazine,asking if i wanted an extention to my subscription?
The feeling of being remember,and asked,i guess is not an emotion exclusive to myself,but to a lot of people.Isnt it the reason,the very basic of reasons,why we stay alive?Arent we all,staying alive for each other,to have somebody around to know that we are needed?The way a carer cares for a patient,the way a mother cares of a child,everything is relative,the way we feel needed by somebody.I know,as trivial as it sounds,phone calls are important,arent they?As much as i hate phone calls,as much as i hate the possible awkward moments on the phone,i still long for those annoying ringing going through the house.
I feel certain that i am going mad.Virginia Woolf is getting into my head,and lets have your fingers crossed that im not going to throw myself into the monsoon drain anytime soon.The truth is,i guess in a way,she was right.She was so right,that "Even crazy people liked to be asked".They do,i do.I guess.
I find myself running out of options,on weekends or holidays,who to go out with.I mean,there are a lot of people out there,that i used to hang around with after school,after books,after life(Not in that sense).Whatever happened to those people,i wonder.Was my chinese teacher right,about people being mere passengers,waiting to board a bus?Are these stages just bus stops,and you are the driver driving down this lane,picking up and dropping people off stops?The buzzer used to ring,dont they?They used to go off for you to know that people were leaving,people were getting off.At least you know,that you were remembered,needed in a sort of way.Now the buzzer doesnt go off,no red light flashing above your head going "Bus Stopping".Passengers leap off your bus,because pressing the buzzer was too much of a trouble.
The rings,all the rings.Ringing for others,always for others now.I dont expect,or hope that my phone will start going off like a children's toy vibrating out of control.In fact,i do in fact,love the fact that i am in a way forgotten by this fleeting world.If nobody remembers you,if nobody recalls whatever that you did for them,wouldnt that mean that you are in a way,dead?It's just like if nobody knows that you are dead,and that to them you are living somewhere,sometime,enjoying life.This life that people makes up for you.Wouldnt that mean that you in a way,immortal?
I didnt know how to put them in words last week,didnt know how to express myself the right way,but that gloomy,grey look upon my face before book in.One couldve thought that i was down with a sort of flu,this disease at that very moment.But then again,if you think about,i was in a sort of nostaglic moment there.
Phone calls come and go,the way the disrupt the songs you listen on the computer,the shows you are watching on TV,or the movies on your Dvds.I used to hate those,the way they go through the house like tires upon tarmac.Come to think about it,the odds of a single phone call for me,looking for me that is,was about 2 of 15?It used to be more,way more back in the Secondary School days,when "Hey,i talked on the phone for five straight hours with a girl" was actually something that couldve made you sound cool.
It is lesser now,i realise.The way the phone rings and somebody rushes to pick them up.They are always for my parents,all the businesses.Their associates,their employees,partners,friends and relatives.When was the last time,a call was for me when i picked up,and not some idiotic woman from Times or Pioneer magazine,asking if i wanted an extention to my subscription?
The feeling of being remember,and asked,i guess is not an emotion exclusive to myself,but to a lot of people.Isnt it the reason,the very basic of reasons,why we stay alive?Arent we all,staying alive for each other,to have somebody around to know that we are needed?The way a carer cares for a patient,the way a mother cares of a child,everything is relative,the way we feel needed by somebody.I know,as trivial as it sounds,phone calls are important,arent they?As much as i hate phone calls,as much as i hate the possible awkward moments on the phone,i still long for those annoying ringing going through the house.
I feel certain that i am going mad.Virginia Woolf is getting into my head,and lets have your fingers crossed that im not going to throw myself into the monsoon drain anytime soon.The truth is,i guess in a way,she was right.She was so right,that "Even crazy people liked to be asked".They do,i do.I guess.
I find myself running out of options,on weekends or holidays,who to go out with.I mean,there are a lot of people out there,that i used to hang around with after school,after books,after life(Not in that sense).Whatever happened to those people,i wonder.Was my chinese teacher right,about people being mere passengers,waiting to board a bus?Are these stages just bus stops,and you are the driver driving down this lane,picking up and dropping people off stops?The buzzer used to ring,dont they?They used to go off for you to know that people were leaving,people were getting off.At least you know,that you were remembered,needed in a sort of way.Now the buzzer doesnt go off,no red light flashing above your head going "Bus Stopping".Passengers leap off your bus,because pressing the buzzer was too much of a trouble.
The rings,all the rings.Ringing for others,always for others now.I dont expect,or hope that my phone will start going off like a children's toy vibrating out of control.In fact,i do in fact,love the fact that i am in a way forgotten by this fleeting world.If nobody remembers you,if nobody recalls whatever that you did for them,wouldnt that mean that you are in a way,dead?It's just like if nobody knows that you are dead,and that to them you are living somewhere,sometime,enjoying life.This life that people makes up for you.Wouldnt that mean that you in a way,immortal?
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