Jolly Folly, Mighty Morphin'

A few years ago, I was so into my academic life and pursuit for theatre that I sleep every night to the thought of some Geography concept in my head or to some preoccupation with a certain script which I have yet to fully grasp.

Then, there was two years of the Army which I was totally sucked into as well. My legs always jogging to the tune of paced singing, my mind always running with solutions to solve my men's problems and clearly, my life also almost always void of space to contain a something else.

I have been so busy with work these days, nay, so into work these days that it's eating me again. I can't point a finger to it. Although I have been making funny mistakes that make no sense at all, although I've had my fair share of bad days, I really still do enjoy my work. Come to think of it, don't I like things easily!

I spoke to a chef today, who although cannot articulate for nuts or write a coherent prose, wowed me with her passion for food. She raved about her sauces, the versatility of cold, raw beef, and amid the unfamiliar jargon, I managed to recognise and identify with her love for the thing she does. The smile that emerged from her naturally stern face perpetuated a priceless satisfaction within me.

I have met, much less often than frequent, housekeepers who must get that stubborn stain off the mirror or runners who make sending laundry their life purpose. And I love the spurt of adrenaline that releases its magic on my inspirations, my motivations, and my own field of work. It does wonders, and pulls you out from the occasional doldrums sometimes.

My life is my work for now, I would like to keep it this way, I think.

Posted by Brandon at Monday, January 28, 2008 | Permalink

Guest has no flight details. The occupancy is very high, and the rooms are not cleaned as quickly as we want them to. The rain pelters hard on the towering roof, and passers-by pour into the hotel lobby seeking temporary shelter, giving a false but affecting pressure on the staff to be more alert.

The smell of curry wafts menacingly like a garlic-headed demon, causing my stomach to drum in fear, producing a hollow cry. It slaps me on the cheeks as well, as they tire out of overuse, as I greet and smile seemingly effortlessly at lost tourists, bewildered guests and superiors who exalt outward expressions of excellent service and grace.

Suddenly, my phone vibrates, an empty reverberation.

"Brandon, come to the front desk. Guest wants to see you."

O no, did I make a mistake? I reckoned that I must have forgotten to do something again, checked a guest in the wrong room again, didn't get a room for a guest ready in time again, forgot to charge a last-minute minibar consumption again?

I briskly walked to the front desk, shunning the thousand hands of the garlic monster. A little girl whom I recognise as Madison, about the age of 7 or 8, comes running towards me. She holds my hand, like she is a bee attracted to honey. Her huge green eyes sparkle and she hands me a lemon sweet.

"Brandon, I'm leaving." (No, this is not soap opera.) In her innocent, crisp voice, she still smiles with such freshness and minty brightness. "I wanna bring you home."

Her mum stands behind her, and also smiles with equal gratitude. The garlic monster suddenly dissipated into the thin air, which is making me kind of breathless, out of a certain disbelief.

I am fed a huge meal, I feel so full. Like I have drank all the rain, like I've cleaned all the rooms with a sweep of my hand, which held Madison's, and brought her to her taxi bound for the airport. All the passers-by still don't want to leave although the sky's clear, they applaud like spectators at a baseball match, ...

Buttressing passions. The world looks on at my lemon sweet, yearning it.

Posted by Brandon at Sunday, January 13, 2008 | Permalink