Recovery

I must have mentioned before... sometimes I think all the random thoughts of mine entail are nothing but the process of recovery.

Recovery is a strange process... Like life itself, at times you see the rosy garden with due positivity; yet, sometimes, out of nowhere, something as minor as a fly swings by and you are reminded of the path you have traversed so far. And, you see yourself back to ground zero. From there, you manage to level up again.

I have often pondered... I must have really severe learning disabilities in learning some essential life's lesson. This is why God decided to grant me a chance to experience total disabilities through some ridiculously simple fall from a collapsed chair... So speaks for the unbearable inconsequential-ness, if not lightness, of life...

Through out my blogging career, so far, I have found myself switch from a war lord to a I-don't-quite-yet-know-what with the I-don't-quite-yet-know-what partially defined as a fighter-no-more. In retrospective, I guess, while da war lord prides itself in the attempt conquer all obstacles towards total freedom, in reality, it is but a manifestation of me incarcerated by them unidentified anger.... boiling boiling and boiling inside...

Good or bad? I am not quite sure. The only thing I know is that, possibly, when letting go of the never-ending fights, you could be afforded with more time to live although I am not quite sure, still, what it means to let go.

So tonight, I took this fellow Taiwanese lady to see the free and outdoor screening of "The Barber of Seville" at Lincoln Center.

Among thousands of others, I sat there like a good girl quietly watching the show.

At some point, I looked around and saw the beautiful city surrounding, that almost full moon hanging over the city as well as, above, the big cloudless sky.

Suddenly, memories of the past struck me....

More accurately, the memories flashes by so fast that I could hardly recognised with the comedy in the foreground and background as well.
It was the past of how about three years ago when I pledge to go to see all them operas in the Met... getting them standing room tickets wishing for an orchestra seat after the intermission.



Them beautiful years of being elegantly and blessedly ignorant while lamenting, as usual, about the Micky mouse grade inconveniences of life... How grand is that?!


I found my eyes watering at some point, pairing with da emotions, which were, earlier in the day, nowhere to be found. Secretly I wiped it off for such manifestation of affect doesn't really match up with the unfolding happy ending... although them dasein stubbornly linger til this point.

Why such reactions? I am not quite sure... Perhaps, it is motivated by the grief for what could not be reclaimed. All other interpretations fail... I am simply insane. 8-O lol

So I eventually went ahead and took my night time meds.... waiting for them to start slowing down them processes of thought generation...

Annoying still... daily routine-- to grow from cognitive setbacks... Some micro version of recovery processes... I guess....