“Nothing out of the Ordinary”

I’ve realized that the most effective way to overcome a writer’s block is by gaining experiences and multiplying your presence in specific occurrences. But that in itself is not sufficient. You’ll need perception, sensitivity, and a stroke of luck at your disposal to tear that block down to bits, and write.

For me, there’s still much left to be learned.

It’s May 25th, 2019.

I’ve had mixed feelings these couple of days, distracted — repeatedly finding myself not being able to focus, and mostly being detached. Perhaps it’s the lack of sleep, the bad news that I’ve received, or just me being overwhelmed by mixed up feelings. These are the days where I am well aware that I’m prone to blunders of my own doing, not to say that blunders are a rarity for me, but somehow today felt quite different, something is bound to happen.

Earlier today, I failed to board a train scheduled for 3.30 bound for home. I was supposed to leave this godforsaken capital city four and a half hours earlier. But lets just say that my ID card had decided to not be in my wallet at the time that I was about to board the afternoon train.

Please, just bear with me.

I’ve gotten used to do these kinds of blunders and perhaps I’ve naturally trained myself well to not be too panicky in these kinds of situations, and just try to act towards finding a solution without being numbed for too long. At the time I was at the boarding gates and checking my wallet only to found that my ID has decided to book itself another night at the hotel, I’ve decided to just laugh it off a bit and subtly realized that today’s gonna be one of those weird ass day with an extra ‘cherry of stupidity’ on top — a perfect ending for a series of days jammed packed with a rather depressing chain of events.

But truthfully, I was feeling a bit of excitement. Of course, I was not excited at all to waste more time waiting for the next train and spending more money for a back-and-forth cab between the station and my ID’s hotel, but I’ve decided to just be weirdly positive about it and be excited that this too, happened for a reason.

Another rather bizarre thing was that several days prior to my travels to the capital, I’ve already subjected myself to another blundered act— I’ve bought myself a train ride ticket home for 8 PM without any plans to spend the time between 12.00–20.00; a gut decision I’ve previously regretted, but this blundered/gut act has proven itself very, very useful.

And the rationale behind this act was by itself, a mystery.

Here’s the thing, my visit to the capital wasn’t exactly well-timed. If you haven’t paid any attention to the news this week (or if you’re living in a cave somewhere), the capital was in a state of emergency. Mass protests due to the presidential election have taken place, and violence between the police and the protesters have caused quite a fuss. Basically, people in their right minds will try to avoid visiting the capital. But my visit was inevitable, a deadline for my research was due, and my appointments with government officials and executives have already been made and would proceeded as planned. This have left me with no other options but to go.

The deteriorating condition in the capital during several early days of the week have prompted my loving parents to force me to come home at the earliest — thus explains the 3.30 train departure ticket. Because by the time I’ve realized that the condition of the capital will definitely be worsening, there were no seats left for me to leave earlier than 3.30.

Nonetheless, due to lack of better alternatives, I’ve decided to just enjoy my cab ride back to the hotel to pick up my dearest ID, gave the hotel receptionist a merciful disappointed look for not returning my ID earlier when I was checking out, and just went straight back to the train station to wait for the 8 PM train ride.

I can’t possibly stress this enough that if I did NOT committed the simple blundered act of leaving my ID card back at the hotel, everything would proceeded just as expected. I would’ve departed from the capital at 3.30, arrived in my hometown at 7, met my friends for a Saturday night out as per usual, or maybe bought a birthday present for my mother. Ultimately went home, and off to sleep. Normal.

On the flip side, if I hadn’t committed the initial blundered act of foolishly/ miraculously booked the 8 PM train ticket out of a gut move, I would be left stranded for another night at the capital with no place to stay, no plans, and not meeting my mom in time for her birthday.

But in reality, what I’ve experienced/perceived next during my 8 PM train ride home, has turned out to be beyond normal.

And it has provided me with a revelation that I’ve desperately been needing.

On top of that, if I hadn’t simply left my ID card back at the hotel —ultimately, this piece would not be written. I would lack the impulse, emotions, and Ideas. Not to mention I would also lack the overwhelming feeling that it is rather imperative for me to put this into writing and just send it out there.

With all of that background story out of the way, this is where we get into the fun stuff.

I woke up an hour after the train had left the station. Being comfortably seated, I attempted to re-immerse myself into my surroundings; scanning the people seated around me. The album that dropped me off to sleep has ceased playing, and my headset was only half-worn. As much as I actually needed perhaps a couple more hours in dreamy land, I realized that I’m a bit too energized to continue being dozed off.

Seated next to me was a middle-aged man, probably in his early thirties, and he turned out to be a train staff taking the day off. One of the train staff responsible of serving up meals briefly chatted with this man, in fact, the not-too-subtle way that the meal-lady initiated the convo was what woke me up from my sleep. She’s taken the liberty to not acknowledge my presence on the isle-seat, and pinched this man several times before he too, woke up from his sleep.

How awkward, I thought, imagine feeling a repetitious pinch while sitting beside a stranger, I’m pretty sure that for a brief moment this man had mistakenly thought that he was sitting next to some kind of a fucked up creep.

For the rest of the train ride, this man mostly spent his time on the phone. I’ve decided to just be partly deafened, and wore my headset back on. Yes, if I wanted to, I could inevitably listened in to his phone conversations, which lasted for hours on end. This too had bothered me a bit, but I am thankful that he still has the decency to limit his voice and perhaps; leaving more room for the person on the other end of the phone to dominate the convo just so he doesn’t have to talk too much and be too loud. I just assumed that the person he’s talking to was someone waiting for him back home, a lover, perhaps-- his sweetish tone, frequent grin, and small laughs gave it off, he was more than glad to talk to her.

Seated behind me was a young woman, probably in her early twenties, we’ve exchange looks once before the train had departed, and again briefly when I stood up sometime mid-travel to rearrange my bag to be stored on the compartment close to the ceiling. But I guess, those exchanged stares were just another series of coincidence.

Across the isle from me, was an empty seat. I’ve realized that the person who was initially seated there had moved to an empty window seat three rows in front of me, the tux-wearing man seemed like some kind of a top dog adjudicator or a lawyer of some sort working in the court of law, and looked like he’d always got work that needs to be done. As a matter of fact, his work was what made him moved. Just after he had entered the train, immediately he pulled out several documents from his bag, made an effort to read, gave up, scanned the room, and quickly took the initiative to claim the empty windowed seat after he can confirm that no one’s gonna be seated there. Perhaps a windowed seat next to none was what he needed to concentrate, and get his work done.

After the tux-wearing man had moved, he left his seat for a man in his late-twenties who traveled with his wife and kid. His spouse and a five-year-old little girl were seated directly in front of him. Throughout the train ride, they didn’t really interacted much other than the occasional exchange of banter between the man and his wife. Nothing much, initially.

Not being able to sleep, I drowned myself in an alternate reality vividly written by George Orwell. The train ride was nearing its end, after almost fifteen pages of 1984 and finishing Chapter One, my tired eyes had left me feeling quite dizzy, so I’ve decided to end my reading session, and just observe the people around me.

I’ve made the right decision all along.

The train announcement came, signalling that the train was about to make its last stop before arriving at its final destination. The man next to me puts on his Jacket, grab his bag to be within his reach, and left his window seat to wait near the exit just in time before the train had halted.

I’ve always enjoyed sitting on the window seat, although at that time there were nothing much left to see as it was already half past 11, I’ve decided to move anyway, and feast my eyes with whatever scenery my hometown had left to offer.

What I’ve seen was frankly the opposite.

What had appealed to me was not the scenery, it was the eerie reflection of the window which beautifully framed the man, his wife, and the five-year-old little girl — they were the personification of happiness.

This reflection had provided me with an answer that I’ve been looking, and a glimpse of the future that I would be left out of.

It was beautiful.

Soon after, the reflection slowly faded as the train arrived at its final destination; overwhelmed by the lights of the station, the reflection ultimately ceased to exist, and they were gone too.

I am thankful for these series of random events. I’m now convinced that whoever pulls the strings surely has some kind of a fucked up sense of humor. Nonetheless, I’ve gained more confidence to say that everything happens for a reason.

I bid you farewell.

I hope that you’ll someday find solace in talks of life and its intricacies.