The Unending Flow (Short)

Drip, drip, drip.

The man with the five o’clock shadow stood in the cold dark washroom of his four bedroom house, staring at the broken item before him. A cold sweat trickled down his rough cheek as his soles touched the cool marble flooring. What he saw before him was an unending inevitability. Its flow mimicked time – incessant and merciless.

Drip, drip, drip.

The man had tried everything he could think of, but what does a man do when his best just wasn’t good enough? Should he blame it on himself for letting it be broken in the first place? No, he was cautious, so cautious. Yet, it happened all the same.

The man chuckled at the irony before him. He had tried so hard to prevent this from occurring, he might as well have let it happen in the first place. A self-fulfilling prophecy. This reminded him of a movie series he once saw – there was no fooling fate.

Drip, drip, drip.

The sound was getting softer, its interval lengthening by the second. He knew that time was up and he was as drained as an empty vase. Perfect in every other way yet its hollow core was the very definition of imperfection.

Was it the will of the gods or just plain chance that made him lose control at that very moment, his grip on the one important thing in his life? It was so precious, the reason he still drew breath.

Drip, drip, drip…

As a ray of light pierced through the sandblasted window, hope welled inside of him. He knew that at that moment, his path had diverged. And he would brave this new adventure like it was his last.

The man now knew what needed to be done.

Drip, drip, drop.

He needed to go to Ikea and buy a new water bottle.

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In dedication of my purple water bottle that I dropped, which wasn't my fault. 

They just get all slippery, you know?

Here We Go Again

Good day, random passerby ! -- and future self.

I started this blog way back in high school, using it mainly to document my daily life and thoughts. Well, here I am close to a decade later, excited to jump start this dusty old web page yet again. 

A Rose by Any Other Name

I reckon 99% of visitors would stumble across this blog due to one reason: its name. And no, it's not due to the banana frenzy that is 9gag and its netizens. Funny how certain word usage or phrases become immensely popular. 

Anyway, back to the humble banana. 

Image from foodfacts.mercola.com

Here it is, in all its peeled glory. Great as a morning pick-me-up or a post-workout snack. And also a phallic symbol, but lets move on. 

Simply put, I am a banana. No, not the fruit, but what it represents. I am of Chinese heritage but ironically (SHAME) enough, can't speak the language or any of its dialects. Instead, my main language is English - always have, probably always will be. There it is: Chinese by appearance and hence, 'yellow' on the outside, but with an English or 'white' center. Trust me, life has been tough being a banana but there are pros and cons which I might get into some other time. All I know is I've turned out alright so far, growing up with the best crop of buddies I could ever wish for.

Leaf in the Forest

What will I be posting about? Anything and everything. It could be anything so random as life lessons, opinions, cooking recipes, daily blogging material. Oh, and not forgetting short stories ! I was quite the author back in the day, and I've been inspired by a good buddy to start up writing again. I'll be aiming for one short story a month. That might be pretty ambitious but we'll see if there's any willpower in this bastard brain. 

Fair warning: there will be the occasional cursing.

The First Page

So, I welcome my future self, and you, to my life in 2015 going forward.

This is my life, my adventures, experiences, my thoughts and feelings.

My story, a banana story.

The Beginning?

Hey. So I've had a proper introduction post ready for quite some time now but haven't gotten the chance and/or courage to begin posting. Something about new beginnings that frighten the living daylight out of people (me), I suppose. I'll absolutely post that up soon but I just wanted to sneak this entry in before that. 

I've been in and out of the hospital for the past week or so but don't worry it's not for myself. I've had my fair share of medical issues so far and hopefully in five years time when I'm revisiting this blog I'll be just fine (if you haven't gotten your skin condition under control by then, goddamnit see someone in plastics!).

So I've been sitting in the lounge area right outside the ICU at SDMC for the past couple of days. I counted 12 chairs, arranged in a rectangular fashion, facing one another. It was my first night there that I got acquainted with the seat that would be my companion for the next few days. 

My grandmother was sent into the ER and then got immediately transferred to the high dependency unit in the ICU. That night, the two doctors in charge of her care gathered the immediate family and myself. We were packed into a cramped, bleak room with a center table. We sat around it in a tight semi-circle and we got the prognosis. It wasn't good. She was suffering from multiple organ failure. Her kidneys, lungs and heart were giving way. So much so that she had to be intubated and subsequently sedated. The doctors wanted our decision on pursuing aggressive treatment options or to let nature take its course. They weren't saying it outright, but it was pretty much written on their faces: "Sorry for your loss."

They didn't require a decision but they needed it nonetheless. It was at 2am that our debate began. Opinions were voiced, voices were raised, words were said, tears shed. The issue of being put on life support as opposed being let go peacefully was discussed among other things. We finally came to a consensus to go forward with whatever treatments that it would take, for the time being And it was a good choice.

I am now sitting in the general ward section of the building a week later. After a number of re-intubations and blood pressure elevating drugs, my grandmother made a miraculous recovery and got transferred out of the ICU. 

Just thinking about how we were talking about deathbeds to her current condition is amazing. Some would thank god. Some would attribute the recovery to the fighting spirit, the will to live. 

Me? I'm not so sure anymore. 

----

On a completely different but related note, I was cleaning out my cupboard the other day and I happened upon an old envelope that I had gotten from my confirmation. Now, anyone who knows me know that I am absolutely the total opposite of devout, oh so very skeptical of religion. But in that envelope, was a star that had one of the most ironic (perhaps even appropriate) words at that time. 

It said "hope". 

Coincidence or...?