bleak season

4:38- I chewed the caramel-nougat bar in symphony with the raindrops. I have a 4pm class but I chose to sit in the veranda to chew in the scattered insights of Gorgonio Diamantes’ Turtle Season. As I allowed my mind to drift into what I thought as the inner realm of my consciousness, my focus was snatched by the grand orchestra of the rain.

I tried to push my mind out of its lethargic state but the harmony of the rain with the subtle blowing of the wind hypnotized me to listen to nature’s piece of composition.

For an hour, raindrops played its masterpiece by tracing the clothesline, by drumming the leaves, by crashing the rust-embraced roof, by trickling on the white-washed cement and by bathing the umbrella positioned outside.

For an hour I tried to resolve the remedy to my procrastination by entertaining trains of thoughts from my past.

Having the nature’s orchestra as a background, I saw flashes of scenes from minutes, hours and days of the past when I have gave in to Morpheus’ call of comfort to compromise some of life’s tasks and commitments.

Watching the rain’s performance made me realize the relationship between time and opportunities. Raindrops fell to the earth like stars shattered into smaller pieces. Each sparkle of a raindrop indicates that it has met a surface; and that same sparkle happens when a bright idea hits a wandering mind.

Yes, oftentimes, ideas crash into our minds when we least expect it.
Ideas that come like raindrops are the precious ones that we ought to catch; else its shattered pieces embrace the ground and left us permanently. Those ideas, like raindrops, then became part of the pool of water in our material and psychological universe.

I woke up realizing that the caramel-nougat bar has already became a bolus sliding down to the abyss of my intestines.

5:30- I was supposed to be on the third floor of a building caught between the remnants of modernization and post-modernism, where I was also supposed to be part of the dismissed class of frustrated writers with shattered egos like raindrops that hit the ground, but I chose to wallow and listen on the rain’s symphony.