Mystery Train
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Mystery Train
There are days when she's a whisper
Nights when she's a scream
A reason to wake up in the morning
To close your eyes and dream
There was a friend of mine I met on the internet, a Brazilian girl called Puri a couple of years ago. I recall the first time her video image appeared on the top right hand corner of our conversation window, and she looked absolutely stunning. We met through an online game, as hard as it is for most readers to believe, and I remember her having some problems with English. I had to simplify a lot of my words just so that we could communicate, and communicate we did in the despite our physical distance. However, there was always an imaginary barrier between us in terms of our culture, or lifestyles and our characters. After all, who you are is greatly dependent on the environment that you grew up in, and Singapore can be said to be almost the polar opposite of life in Buenos Aires, Brazil.
She always seemed like the character of a book to me, the way she would feed me information about herself like the descriptions of a character by the author. We read books and we accept the life of a certain character as it is, and not a lot of room is left for your our imaginations as to how the character is like beyond the words and the lines. And because we were so far apart, it was hard to imagine the kind of life that she had, the type of lifestyle that she lived, so on and so forth. I depended on my imaginations though, and I pictured her life as best as I could. After all, when you are that far apart, imagination is the strongest bridge there is.
She'll curse you like a sailor
She'll wound you with her eyes
She always makes it better
But she won't apologize
I know everything about her
But don't know her at all
I got to know Mckenzie through a comment left on my blog by chance actually. She's from America - Utah to be exact - and because we are so far apart in terms of space and time, there is a certain difficulty in comprehending how she is really like as a person. It's a strange feeling, to feel like you know everything about a person and nothing at the same time. That is the kind of feeling I get when I talk to Kenzie, the way one feels when he or she sees a familiar stranger on the streets. Like the character of a book somehow, so vividly described and yet, always and merely the character of a book, and never real enough for you to touch, to smell, or to feel.
So the following is a little 'image' I have of Kenzie, every morning before her work starts. I am sure that the accuracy is totally off in this entry, and that she is probably going to wonder if I plucked her name into a story I previously typed of somebody else. But this is really the image I have of her all the way from that side of her world, the image that I bring along with me whenever I think about this American girl. Because she is my mystery train, and on trains such as herself, imaginations can run so wild and so free.
She's a ride on a mystery train
To a place you've never been before
Better hold on tight to that mystery train
You're not in Kansas anymore
She's a ride
Mystery train
The weather outside almost looked too gloomy, too depressing for her own taste. For in her heart sprang forth the spirit of summer, and in her eyes the hint of coming spring. But from outside her bedroom window, the flowers in the lawn swayed ever so gently to the slight breeze, and the sky was in a darkened shade of gray. It was six in the morning, and the day was just the beginning for Kenzie as she stretched her arms and back after yet another uneasy sleep. The room was dark, save for the lamp in the corner of the room that emitted a weird light that crawled up the red wall like claws. The digital clock at her bedside blinked, it was time for her to wake.
If there is something worse about Mondays, it has got to be the traffic. But then again, the traffic is not something exclusive to Mondays, but rather every other morning of the week. Kenzie slipped her feet into the slippers, and for a moment she smiled at her own temporary paranoia about spiders inside them. A childhood fear of sorts she supposed, and she proceeded to wake herself up. She hated the weather, though she never was a big fan of the sun. But deep inside she knew, that if anybody wanted a different season, they'd only have to wait for fifteen minutes for a climate change. That is Utah for you, that is how interestingly strange everything is around here.
She cries because she's happy
She sings songs when she's mad
Like a stiff drink when you need it
She's good at being bad
And long before you knew her
You knew she was the one
The cold water pricked her skin like tiny needles. But they felt cool against her face, and she studied her facial features in the mirror, all the while pressing the white towel against her red hair - the color of autumn. She sandwiched her hair carefully between the soft fabric, almost as if she was afraid that a tug too hard would damage them. Because she needed to remind herself somehow, to tell herself that there is still something to love about herself, something to smile for. She made a mental note to self as she did a final inspection of every inch of her face, to love herself a little bit more today, to trust herself just that tad bit more today.
Her secret hideout, her sanctuary. Kenzie gazed at the dark corners of her room as the light from the window slowly illuminated them with every passing minute. There was a certain sense of serenity in the air, a kind of calm you get inside a place you are comfortable with, a place you feel safe in. She pictured herself seated on her bed with her back against the pillowcase, and a good book in her hands. She pictured herself only a few weeks ago, as she laid in bed after the surgery and watched As Good As It Gets. She laughed so hard at Melvin Udall's oddities, that the surgery wound started to ache. But she cared little about it, because a good laugh felt good, it always does. Even if it means that she has to jump around her room and yell her name at the top of her voice. She smiled, into the room she isn't going to see very often from then on. Because of the trip to Spain scheduled for next year, and of course Morocco following swiftly afterwards. She future, there is something about her then, something wistful and hopeful, something incredibly - good.
She's a ride on a mystery train
To a place you've never been before
Better hold on tight to that mystery train
You're not in Kansas anymore
She's a ride
Mystery train
I know everything about her
But don't know her at all
The air outside her apartment smelled - well, there wasn't anything special about it anyway. The weather was already getting warmer, and it proved her theory about the Utah climate. Fifteen more minutes, just fifteen more minutes. Everything would be better, everything just would. She pictured herself standing in the parking lot in front of her new home in Arizona - hopefully - and imagined how the air would smell like there, if the sunrises and the sunsets would be any different from the ones in Utah. Probably a lot hotter she presumed, a lot more uncomfortable too. The kind of angry sun that pokes at your skin teasingly throughout the day, the kind that gives you a burned skin. Especially for a redhead, it is such a dread to be in a hot place, she thought to herself.
The western skies were still dark, and as she got into her car she realized that there was still a little time left. She worked a lot faster today, faster than she usually would. Probably because she didn't have the appetite for a breakfast today, and was satisfied with a half eaten sandwich and a cup of herbal tea. So she sat there in her car and watched the western piece of sky still a little gloomy, the part of last night still stubborn against the onslaught of the morning.
She's a ride on a mystery train
To a place I've never been before
Better hold on tight to that mystery train
I'm not in Kansas anymore
Beyond the parking lot in that direction was the hospital, then beyond that is the lake. Then even further from that beyond the lake would be the long deserts of Nevada, the endless and barren hills as far as the eyes could see. And beyond that, the sunset state of California, the West Coast, the Pacific. Somewhere further from that, the island chains of Hawaii, then followed by some undiscovered and uncharted islands in the middle of the ocean. Traveling further, she reaches Japan, the island of Hokkaido. Her imaginations went downwards, along the coast of China and down to the South China Sea. Thailand laid on her right now, and the weather was getting hotter and hotter as she moved closer to the equator. Still, Malaysia came into sight, and then beyond that - somebody. Somebody, who?
Today, Kenzie was exceptionally careful at the 'Stop' signs. She peered around the corner for any sign of traffic police this time, still troubled over her tickets a couple of days ago. It is short drive from her house to the office, but she dreaded it any way because of how accident-prone she sees herself to be. The car accident that involved a smashed windshield, and not to forget the teenage brat who decided to throw a skateboard into the path of her car. Anything and everything was a kind of hazard to Kenzie, and with much care she managed to get to the office safely.
Her terminal, the same old terminal, welcomed her with its cold arms outstretched. She did a mental calculation as to how long she's been at this office, entertaining the calls of the same frustrated customers. It's been a long time, and it is a kind of wonder how she managed to pull through those days, even on the bad ones with the pain in her back due to the surgery. It's not the best job in the world - she thought to herself - but at least she has a great boss, at least she has that.
The computer terminal slowly warmed up as she turned it on, and she braced herself for the day's collection of unreasonable clients from all over the world. Just a couple of months more, and hopefully the whole Arizona thing will work out. Kenzie sat at her terminal, and the two green men at the bottom right of the monitor started spinning and spinning. MSN was connecting, and moments later a window popped up in the corner telling her of the unread mails that she has. She's afraid of the e-mails sometimes, afraid that the past - old love - may catch up with her all over again. The past - the dreadful past - the same one that helped to shape her into who she is today, for better for worse. But she is thankful, she thought, as she stared into her contact list. Thankful.
'Away', that somebody was away. As always, he is away. She pictured him blogging away in front of his desk, or going to school in the stormy morning. She read about his first days in school, the friends that he made and the funny poster that he made for a project. This boy, this strange boy, from all the way in Singapore, is the one and only friend she has from there. She got to know him through his blog, and subsequently from their various MSN conversations. It is an interesting thing, to get a glimpse of the world on the other side, a glimpse of the world of the man on the side. She wondered then, if he feels the same way. If he imagines her life the way she was at the office terminal before the same old computer.
So she visited his blog - as she would as part of the day's routine - and realized that he updated it. Mystery Train is the title of the entry, and for some reason it has her own name in it. The boy took her advice a few days ago during his writer's block and actually wrote an entry about her. She laughed softly to herself, afraid that Emilie from over the barrier would peep over into her terminal and stare at her in amusement. So she started reading, the first sentence, and then the second, and then the third.
And smiled.
She's a ride
On a mystery train
She's a ride
On a mystery train
There are days when she's a whisper
Nights when she's a scream
A reason to wake up in the morning
To close your eyes and dream
There was a friend of mine I met on the internet, a Brazilian girl called Puri a couple of years ago. I recall the first time her video image appeared on the top right hand corner of our conversation window, and she looked absolutely stunning. We met through an online game, as hard as it is for most readers to believe, and I remember her having some problems with English. I had to simplify a lot of my words just so that we could communicate, and communicate we did in the despite our physical distance. However, there was always an imaginary barrier between us in terms of our culture, or lifestyles and our characters. After all, who you are is greatly dependent on the environment that you grew up in, and Singapore can be said to be almost the polar opposite of life in Buenos Aires, Brazil.
She always seemed like the character of a book to me, the way she would feed me information about herself like the descriptions of a character by the author. We read books and we accept the life of a certain character as it is, and not a lot of room is left for your our imaginations as to how the character is like beyond the words and the lines. And because we were so far apart, it was hard to imagine the kind of life that she had, the type of lifestyle that she lived, so on and so forth. I depended on my imaginations though, and I pictured her life as best as I could. After all, when you are that far apart, imagination is the strongest bridge there is.
She'll curse you like a sailor
She'll wound you with her eyes
She always makes it better
But she won't apologize
I know everything about her
But don't know her at all
I got to know Mckenzie through a comment left on my blog by chance actually. She's from America - Utah to be exact - and because we are so far apart in terms of space and time, there is a certain difficulty in comprehending how she is really like as a person. It's a strange feeling, to feel like you know everything about a person and nothing at the same time. That is the kind of feeling I get when I talk to Kenzie, the way one feels when he or she sees a familiar stranger on the streets. Like the character of a book somehow, so vividly described and yet, always and merely the character of a book, and never real enough for you to touch, to smell, or to feel.
So the following is a little 'image' I have of Kenzie, every morning before her work starts. I am sure that the accuracy is totally off in this entry, and that she is probably going to wonder if I plucked her name into a story I previously typed of somebody else. But this is really the image I have of her all the way from that side of her world, the image that I bring along with me whenever I think about this American girl. Because she is my mystery train, and on trains such as herself, imaginations can run so wild and so free.
She's a ride on a mystery train
To a place you've never been before
Better hold on tight to that mystery train
You're not in Kansas anymore
She's a ride
Mystery train
The weather outside almost looked too gloomy, too depressing for her own taste. For in her heart sprang forth the spirit of summer, and in her eyes the hint of coming spring. But from outside her bedroom window, the flowers in the lawn swayed ever so gently to the slight breeze, and the sky was in a darkened shade of gray. It was six in the morning, and the day was just the beginning for Kenzie as she stretched her arms and back after yet another uneasy sleep. The room was dark, save for the lamp in the corner of the room that emitted a weird light that crawled up the red wall like claws. The digital clock at her bedside blinked, it was time for her to wake.
If there is something worse about Mondays, it has got to be the traffic. But then again, the traffic is not something exclusive to Mondays, but rather every other morning of the week. Kenzie slipped her feet into the slippers, and for a moment she smiled at her own temporary paranoia about spiders inside them. A childhood fear of sorts she supposed, and she proceeded to wake herself up. She hated the weather, though she never was a big fan of the sun. But deep inside she knew, that if anybody wanted a different season, they'd only have to wait for fifteen minutes for a climate change. That is Utah for you, that is how interestingly strange everything is around here.
She cries because she's happy
She sings songs when she's mad
Like a stiff drink when you need it
She's good at being bad
And long before you knew her
You knew she was the one
The cold water pricked her skin like tiny needles. But they felt cool against her face, and she studied her facial features in the mirror, all the while pressing the white towel against her red hair - the color of autumn. She sandwiched her hair carefully between the soft fabric, almost as if she was afraid that a tug too hard would damage them. Because she needed to remind herself somehow, to tell herself that there is still something to love about herself, something to smile for. She made a mental note to self as she did a final inspection of every inch of her face, to love herself a little bit more today, to trust herself just that tad bit more today.
Her secret hideout, her sanctuary. Kenzie gazed at the dark corners of her room as the light from the window slowly illuminated them with every passing minute. There was a certain sense of serenity in the air, a kind of calm you get inside a place you are comfortable with, a place you feel safe in. She pictured herself seated on her bed with her back against the pillowcase, and a good book in her hands. She pictured herself only a few weeks ago, as she laid in bed after the surgery and watched As Good As It Gets. She laughed so hard at Melvin Udall's oddities, that the surgery wound started to ache. But she cared little about it, because a good laugh felt good, it always does. Even if it means that she has to jump around her room and yell her name at the top of her voice. She smiled, into the room she isn't going to see very often from then on. Because of the trip to Spain scheduled for next year, and of course Morocco following swiftly afterwards. She future, there is something about her then, something wistful and hopeful, something incredibly - good.
She's a ride on a mystery train
To a place you've never been before
Better hold on tight to that mystery train
You're not in Kansas anymore
She's a ride
Mystery train
I know everything about her
But don't know her at all
The air outside her apartment smelled - well, there wasn't anything special about it anyway. The weather was already getting warmer, and it proved her theory about the Utah climate. Fifteen more minutes, just fifteen more minutes. Everything would be better, everything just would. She pictured herself standing in the parking lot in front of her new home in Arizona - hopefully - and imagined how the air would smell like there, if the sunrises and the sunsets would be any different from the ones in Utah. Probably a lot hotter she presumed, a lot more uncomfortable too. The kind of angry sun that pokes at your skin teasingly throughout the day, the kind that gives you a burned skin. Especially for a redhead, it is such a dread to be in a hot place, she thought to herself.
The western skies were still dark, and as she got into her car she realized that there was still a little time left. She worked a lot faster today, faster than she usually would. Probably because she didn't have the appetite for a breakfast today, and was satisfied with a half eaten sandwich and a cup of herbal tea. So she sat there in her car and watched the western piece of sky still a little gloomy, the part of last night still stubborn against the onslaught of the morning.
She's a ride on a mystery train
To a place I've never been before
Better hold on tight to that mystery train
I'm not in Kansas anymore
Beyond the parking lot in that direction was the hospital, then beyond that is the lake. Then even further from that beyond the lake would be the long deserts of Nevada, the endless and barren hills as far as the eyes could see. And beyond that, the sunset state of California, the West Coast, the Pacific. Somewhere further from that, the island chains of Hawaii, then followed by some undiscovered and uncharted islands in the middle of the ocean. Traveling further, she reaches Japan, the island of Hokkaido. Her imaginations went downwards, along the coast of China and down to the South China Sea. Thailand laid on her right now, and the weather was getting hotter and hotter as she moved closer to the equator. Still, Malaysia came into sight, and then beyond that - somebody. Somebody, who?
Today, Kenzie was exceptionally careful at the 'Stop' signs. She peered around the corner for any sign of traffic police this time, still troubled over her tickets a couple of days ago. It is short drive from her house to the office, but she dreaded it any way because of how accident-prone she sees herself to be. The car accident that involved a smashed windshield, and not to forget the teenage brat who decided to throw a skateboard into the path of her car. Anything and everything was a kind of hazard to Kenzie, and with much care she managed to get to the office safely.
Her terminal, the same old terminal, welcomed her with its cold arms outstretched. She did a mental calculation as to how long she's been at this office, entertaining the calls of the same frustrated customers. It's been a long time, and it is a kind of wonder how she managed to pull through those days, even on the bad ones with the pain in her back due to the surgery. It's not the best job in the world - she thought to herself - but at least she has a great boss, at least she has that.
The computer terminal slowly warmed up as she turned it on, and she braced herself for the day's collection of unreasonable clients from all over the world. Just a couple of months more, and hopefully the whole Arizona thing will work out. Kenzie sat at her terminal, and the two green men at the bottom right of the monitor started spinning and spinning. MSN was connecting, and moments later a window popped up in the corner telling her of the unread mails that she has. She's afraid of the e-mails sometimes, afraid that the past - old love - may catch up with her all over again. The past - the dreadful past - the same one that helped to shape her into who she is today, for better for worse. But she is thankful, she thought, as she stared into her contact list. Thankful.
'Away', that somebody was away. As always, he is away. She pictured him blogging away in front of his desk, or going to school in the stormy morning. She read about his first days in school, the friends that he made and the funny poster that he made for a project. This boy, this strange boy, from all the way in Singapore, is the one and only friend she has from there. She got to know him through his blog, and subsequently from their various MSN conversations. It is an interesting thing, to get a glimpse of the world on the other side, a glimpse of the world of the man on the side. She wondered then, if he feels the same way. If he imagines her life the way she was at the office terminal before the same old computer.
So she visited his blog - as she would as part of the day's routine - and realized that he updated it. Mystery Train is the title of the entry, and for some reason it has her own name in it. The boy took her advice a few days ago during his writer's block and actually wrote an entry about her. She laughed softly to herself, afraid that Emilie from over the barrier would peep over into her terminal and stare at her in amusement. So she started reading, the first sentence, and then the second, and then the third.
And smiled.
She's a ride
On a mystery train
She's a ride
On a mystery train
This entry was posted
on Saturday, May 19, 2007 at 6:02 PM.
