Wanderlust

Did good work last night, and before I knew it, it was already 2.30 in the morning. It's been a long while since I felt that my thesis is actually going some, actually has a purpose, and if only I could gather that momentum, I could finish it. Soon.

Since I got back to Montreal early December, I've been telling myself that I have two months to make the most of my time here, and that I really need to settle down and do some work. But, shame, the heart and mind wanders, and I could not be still. Every day there seems to be some kind of distraction... or better termed, some kind of excuse for me to 'postpone' things till tomorrow. And after that there is another tomorrow. I promised myself so many times that I would not procrastinate, would not waste life away, especially in the light of the deaths and illness that I've seen and experienced in people around me. Yet lethargy and laziness come in addictive dosages, and sleep more often than not takes over when my mind is weak or down.

So I am happy for moments such as last night, which give me a boost of confidence, and show me just how much I could achieve if I really sit down and set my heart to it.

A few more days, and I am off again. Must try to get as much work down as possible.

A little disappointment

Can you be disappointed by someone you've never met?
It seems the answer is yes.

Wake up call

I woke up early to call mum. The phone rang a couple of times, but was always engaged. It was almost half an hour before I could get through. She was on the phone with the carpenters about a leakage in the living room. Mum said she was very excited about the new house, and that it is now all coming together, despite the troubles and noise a while back.

Then she told me. She is doing the treatment. Just like that. She did not let me know until today, which is the last day of her first session. She said she feels fine. The doctor changed her drug. She feels no side-effects, and is feeling well. She said she went to eat what she wanted to, which was teppanyaki at Takashimaya. And she could eat everything. No nausea. Maybe it's the new house distracting her and keeping her busy that she does not feel much of the nausea, she said herself.

I said little. I only asked why she decided to suddenly do the treatment whereas before she was telling me she would not. Because other people encouraged her. The doctor, relatives, and even Mr Chen, the mystic and fortune-teller. I said little, and was glad that she did not feel ill. But in the back of my mind, I heard the echo: "Not yet.... not yet....."

She asked me how I was doing. What could I say? I was silent. I said I was just pushing on with my thesis, trying to get work done. Could I tell her that I am down, that I am depressed, and sleeping away the days, lost in a daze of lethargy and depression? Could I tell her that I am lost, that I feel alone, and torn between whether I should give up my life her and go back to be with her, or just bite on and enjoy my life here in Canada?

Be happy she said, and take good care. It is very important to be happy, and to not worry, she said.

We ended the conversation. My cat sat by my legs. I curled up next to her, and watched her, as I slowly fell asleep again... as I slowly drowned myself in a world of no thoughts, of no consciousness, and of dreams.

Even bad dreams seem a refuge from the reality of facing uncertainty and the unknown...