| L |
ong nights without enough sleep are not strange to me. Sometimes I have lazy nights, you know, just rolling over my bed , watching two or three movies or reading some book which might or might not enlighten me or even meditating and trying to write personal manifesto of mine-which by the way you do not care to know; most of the other nights-just forced by REALITY.
Last night was one of those nights when reality [better say necessity] held me by hooks in my skin. I was anxious as I was trying for one-of-those- last- times to go through my PowerPoint presentations and rehearse after three days and four nights of pain and agony from cold-believe me it is not your typical cold, which leaves your taste buds without function or ruins your first date night because she is not [and will never be] ready to kiss a man with a runny nose even if you have killer eyes. It left me with constantly piercing headaches, hypersensitivity to light and noise, and coughs which made me think that my throat would rapture at some point. But, yesternight I felt better and relieved after all this agony which seemed to me never stopping.
After finalizing my presentation- which I think- was mediocre [that is why I will go through it tonight for the last time or to be pragmatic for second-of -those –last –times], I felt all of a sudden hungry. I knew that I could not sleep even though it was already 4:00 past midnight. I opened the refrigerator which I knew it did not have anything but three bottles of water and half of a filthy green belly pepper which was turning to reddish brown. I opened it just because it is a very natural thing to do if you are at your room, feel hungry and have a refrigerator at arm length. It took me a while to close it back, and I cannot give you the reason because I do not remember I had one. After a pause which felt like aeon, I emptied my pocket to see if I can order Souvlaki. I was startled to see that I had only € 2.75. I reached out to a mug which I put one and two euro cents in. I counted them patiently and learned that they were exactly 73 cents. I removed some pile of papers from my desk to see if I can find more. Hoorah! I was lucky; I had fifty cents more. I looked at it and studied it. It was issued in 1999. Then I remembered why I kept it. You may roll over the floor laughing [I cannot control your bullying sentiment, after all] - I kept it because I thought 1999 issued euro coins are rare to find. I do not remember seeing one before that coin though it takes my whole courage to admit I have seen once or twice after. That is, perhaps, the reason why I did not care to lock it inside my drawer. I don’t want to keep you reading what I went through to order €5.00 food at 4:30 am and not managing doing it because I knew my forty something two cent coins collection, my €2.75 and one 1999 issued 50 cent coin [which, by the way, I still somehow believe is rare] are not enough to persuade the only open shop to send me its fatty and overdone kalamaki [meat grilled on a skewer]. I felt angry. Money! You don’t have a clue who really needs You. Even You are a victim of loss of Your purpose, oh poor money! Oh, poor me!
That was how I was able to shut my stomach off and increase my testosterone. It took me less time than it takes you to strike out the first two letters from hungry and substitute them with ‘a’. That was how I chose to read some news and stumbled on a BBC story about a stormchaser who suffers from Epidermolysis Bullosa [EB]. And I found myself watching one of the most touching and inspiring stories, a story of Jonny Kennedy who lived with this horrendous disorder for 36 years before he died in 2003.
My first thought was how it would be difficult for someone to live in this miserable condition. How bad he thought of himself. I wondered if he could spend a single minute in his lifetime thinking something else than the pain he had been enduring. I pondered no one would accuse him as biased if he told them to their face how bad he feel about this world or the coming, or the Creator. However, in the middle of the story I was laughing with his lighthearted and self depreciating jokes. I was moved by his mother who took care of him for 36 years, by the small village which embraced him. By the end of the story, I felt tears warming my face. I begged for a fraction of Jonny’s courage and patience. I felt miserable for posting on my facebook status “Dear mankind, stop your spaceflight! Stop cloning! Just get me a cure for a cold, please!! :(”
And that is how I got the time to reflect and acknowledge how lucky I am. I live in the most beautiful country in the world. I have been given the chance and the means to pursue my dream. I have met wonderful people and got amazing friends. I adore the spontaneity of the society. All the current crisis aside, there is zest of life and I love that. I am not that bad. I am rather great!
You know that I did not write all of what I felt. But I am sure that this does not jeopardize my integrity. I do not want you to know all of my thoughts [which I don’t know either] as that fast-food shop decided it cannot take order for less than €5.00 however hungry you are. But, confessing that before I went to bed I felt very soft does not look like spilling some more information. What if I add the information that I was watching lethal weapon 3 at 5:30 before I finally fell asleep?
Posts
