an unquiet mind
20 Jan
Wednesday, January 20th. 12:20 AM.
There’s not a soul awake in the building, let alone at work. The office is deathly quiet and pitch black, lit only by the soft luminescent glow of the computer I’m typing on. Pages and windows flash across the screen as I bend the machine to my will. Mind and machine are one, and they are plotting the downfall of global economies and an ascent to glory like no other.
Vanity reigns supreme, and yet the quintessential cackling laugh of villainy is muted.
The thoughts that flash through my mind are many, and they are few. Focused and razor sharp, flying true to their mark but dulled by indecisiveness and self-perpetuated mediocrity. On the one hand, my brain is a soaring symphony of excellence and perfection, and on the other, an evanescent cacophony of thoughts, ideologies and memories that bear witness to a mind on the verge of insanity.
I am here. I am now.
1:19AM
Fatigue finally sets in, sipping away at the dregs of my mental reserves. I resist for a while, knowing well that I am only extending the inevitable. Twenty seconds later, I concede defeat. Pushing my chair away from the desk, I stand up and walk to the window.
Outside, a small measure of life continues. The loud thumping irony of a few merry-makers making more noise at night than an entire micro-economy during the day.
Neon lights from Fat Boys and Pavement Tandoori flicker to the beat of hip-hop music. A harsh clash of blue and red, reminding me that we live in a world governed by rules and law, and that the difference between heroism and villainy is choice. Split-second decisions that ripple through the sands of time, leaving chaos and order in their wake. Leaving a trail that will be studied, loathed, or glorified as examples of the frailty of our humanity. Studied by other people like me, who at this very moment are making the exact same choices, the only difference being, perhaps, in the magnitude of choice.
In front of Fat Boys, behind a parked car, a drunk man gropes an equally, if not more, drunk woman. They are oblivious to the world, their here and now having been decided a long time ago by several spirits, imbibed or otherwise. Her skirt goes up and his hands furtively find their way inwards.
Order. And chaos.
I love this view. It is a reminder of what I work for. It is a reminder of what I want to achieve and yet, in the deepest of ironies, to forget. It is the convergence of choice and kismet, focus and laziness, stupidity and timely wisdom, faith and wild-eyed disbelief.
It is the justification of past heres and nows.
1: 30 AM
Time marches on, and a new day beckons. New hopes, new challenges, new dreams and more importantly, new mistakes, and a chance to ponder even more on what exactly new is, considering we spend our lives doing the same things, or figuring out ways to do the same things better, and half the time, failing miserably.
Enough. I must leave.
With one final glance outside, I draw the curtains and shut down my computer. It takes a while, but finally, the whirring stops and the screen blacks out, plunging the office to absolute silence and darkness. I stay still for a while, thinking to myself how beautiful and perfect the nothingness is.
As I lock up the office and walk into the cold, dark night, a police patrol car tears past me, sirens screaming, lights blinking, heading towards town. Red and blue.
Order. And chaos.
Here, and now.
I have missed this.
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