Bookmark #643

Most writing is noticing, but all of us have days where we barely stop to look around. The result is a blank page which faces angry expressions and morbid looks, all for the fact that it exists and all for the folly of the writer. I feel pity for this page, but that does not change the fact that I have not stopped to notice the world around me today. From the last hour of the night yesterday to this moment right here, I have been occupied beyond belief. Today, at work, during a meeting, a colleague and I did not get to the agenda till the halfway mark of it. This would rile me up on most days, but today, it was a welcome blessing because we both needed the breather. I told him I barely had time for myself, and he told me he knew what I was talking about. Besides that one moment of sheer humanity, I recall no other time I stopped. Well, that, and laughing at a film with my brother.

I wonder if it happens to other people when you first watch a film, and while you like it and you rave about it, it is not until you watch it with someone you love that you really experience the joy. A good film becomes great in worthwhile company. This has been my experience for all these years. I have watched so many of them alone—in theatres, at home—but the whole thing seems different when you watch them with someone else. Imagine this, you know what will happen, but somehow, you look forward to it. Doing things with others and doing things on your own are two different experiences, despite of what the thing is and regardless of how many times you’ve done it.

I make a cup of coffee for myself every morning, but when a friend or a date or family is over, I remember every little detail. I remember the aroma, I remember twisting the portafilter and locking it into place, and I remember the trickle of the espresso in the mug.

When I live on my own, I push myself to live; when I live with others, I am alive.