Elevator

The scene could’ve reminded anybody of horror sequences, or of panic and world destruction. I was in an elevator with 4 others. One was a huge baldy guy. One was stocky, like George stocky from Seinfeld. One was a construction worker kind of guy. And the other one was a construction supervisor. We pinned our hopes on him.

Rewind the sequences a little bit and I was just awakened by 6am, on a small single couch. I had slept most of the night while transferring photos from the memory card on to the laptop. Imagine how sleepy I was to get bored by that. I woke up from that transitory sleep, with daylight bouncing off the walls. I blindly got up, and switched off the lights and hurriedly went to the bed to sleep. By 930am, I woke up again, aghast that I was already late for work. Kept a few moans, but still dressed up and fixed my do. What was I thinking before I closed the door and left the condo unit.

From the 27th floor, the lift was going down, picking people up, opening its doors and smiling for it had new things to eat. It was all mirrors. We could see everything from where we were, even that hidden nose picking. I, on the other hand, just kept on looking on the floor display, going down, lower and lower. I could’ve sworn the car fell and stopped around the ‘13th’ floor. That hidden floor in-between buildings. It was the 11th. I stared at that display for 30 minutes. The fall wasn’t like anything in exaggerated cinema; it was like jumping the last two or three steps on the stairs. I couldn’t even react that fast to panic.

Baldy guy uttered something like, “2nd time this week”, and looked at the construction supervisor. It was a Wednesday. Mr. C-S, wasn’t panicking; we should know, he worked here, worked the elevators. It was always him they called when people get stuck in the elevator. But we were with him, inside. He kept pushing the call button and banging the doors.

There was a CCTV camera installed above the doors. Mr. C-S kept waving and no one answered until. ‘George’ was getting a bit impatient and was ranting; “Is the CCTV even working? Is there anybody watching us? There should be a guard down there to monitor.” After all, we were just there, waiting. Like henchmen, eager to go out and rob the world. Waiting for the boss for orders. Waiting to be unleased outside.

I didn’t utter anything or even mouthed words of senseless help and cries of despair. I was looking beyond the people and their reactions. We were stuck and I was claustrophobic. We were five and we had air, lights, and sweat. I was amused at these thoughts. Hey, it was my first time stuck. I could’ve imagined being stuck with Twins, the Hollman’s, the Taylor’s, The Barbi’s, the Jaboom’s... We could’ve partied or sipped tea. We could’ve had sex; I could’ve been worshipped.

I smiled some more, and just then, we heard a knock. Someone from the other side said we were halfway between floors and weren’t able to open the doors. They had to go up the roof deck and restart the whole system. He warned Mr. C-S what would happen. And after a few minutes, there was a blackout, and the elevator conked those weird robotic sounds of heavy lifting once it gained power. The voice from the intercom was telling that everything was ok now. We were going down, back to being grounded.

Hooky

I was downright bored in the office that I was surfing the waves most of the time. In real life, I couldn’t stand on a board. But on the net, waves were calm and there was no pressure. There was one good wave though (with a silent belch of ‘google wave’); I just realized that I had this Captain Hook impression (long wavy hair with an almost quaint laugh, a Briton in the 19th century, a seafarer of Neverland, a restricted right arm, and has a handlebar).


Funny, but that’s just like me. Almost.

On Long Hair

Another reason I keep my hair long is that it's too damn cold here in the office, and the hair helps warm my neck and ears a bit. A practical thing when it's freezing. I guess that's why Gandalf has his.

Oh, and I noticed that D leaves the guys who just cut their manes. Hmmmnn. (An interesting note).

A Day in The Life

I'm so unproductive today; there's only one sent item in the email outbox.


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In other news, my 'ofzm8', who just came back from leave, looks to have gotten bigger breasts. Like drooling big. Her striped shirt has curved the space-time continuum.

blank walls and sticky calendar notes

I should just post or use google calendar as blog; but I should write. I need to write.

2009011023

Where should I begin, really? Where does one start to think and acknowledge every thing that has happened accordingly? I say accordingly because I’d believe that despite the free will-ingness of life and people, there is a path and a plan; like how I happened to oversleep an hour and catch the train I’ve waited for an hour for and witness a man, pushing to get inside the cramped train, had his bag sandwiched by the train doors, ran with the train and let go when it started moving. Right at that time, I was thinking of the months passed, and of the wonderful weekend that had me swinging moods most of the time. Because I sometimes am too shy to speak and tell my stories to people, I tell them to myself. I would write for myself, then.

de-mys-ti-fied

So Alex was telling me the other night that I'm a 'different' person when I'm with her, like more relaxed and perky and all. That I'm sort of aloof with others and strangers. I said that I maintain an image, surely because I have a complex.

But in my natural self, since I have so many people in my head, we converse with each other when I'm inside the car and the traffic is nuts.

Perhaps this would be part of the complex. But still, the mystery is still a thrill, and that is why, maybe, at one part, this universe is strangely all too mystified about me, hence; it couldn't quite catch my breath.

and we're not that close, yet.