Devoid of Expression

The day was late afternoon. The sweltering heat started to wear off. Gathering my hair and tying it quickly into a messy ponytail, I decided to drop by at a nearby mini market ahead to buy myself a cool drink or ice cream. I strode purposefully, covering my face with the back of my hand - the exhausts from cars and motorcycles from the busy thoroughfares and pollutants as well as other unidentified yet equally just as harmful particles were so intense, almost unbearable.

So it felt really really really nice, to finally set my feet inside the mini market; their air cons were blowing cool air - the hum of its engine was quite loud - and immediately my hot skins were soothed. 

Only few people walked about between the aisles. I walked to the cool beverages section (it was cooler there), choosing something refreshing, and was torn between a flavored tea or a juice or simply a mineral water, when the front door was open. 

The mini market was small, and there was actually a round mirror attached on several different and interspersed spots within the small room, high up against the wall, almost to the ceilings. I absentmindedly looked into one of the mirrors, and from the reflection could see a girl - still with her school uniform (that must be around the time school was finished) - entering the mini market. 

She went to the beverages section, and came to a halt a small distance away from me. 

She was pretty. She was also young, so young, and looked so innocent that I was somewhat remembered of my school days - and wondered if, back then, I looked as innocent as she was or at least gave a more or less similar impression. 

I stole a glance or two at her, and it was exactly at that moment... that I came to be surprised. 

Her face was devoid of expression. 

Why, I don't know. I was confused. It was completely different with people's usual face expressions. For example, let's say, those office workers who flocked the street as they just got off from work - and while they didn't particularly display any apparent expression or emotion as they briskly walked or hailed a cab to go home, their faces and postures were still ones that depicted a story, or at least clues to guess a story - that perhaps work had been rough and demanding, or that certain vibe of anxiety and weariness from their simplest gestures, telling that they dreaded the mounting and awaiting tasks to be done at home. 

But this girl... you would think she was at least pondering, what kind of drink I should choose, or anything. But no. There wasn't a single hint. 

Nothing. 

Her face, as I said, was devoid of even the barest hint of expression. It was something akin to a porcelain doll, I think, or a mask. A mask that was destined, for the entirety of its life span, to bear only a single, fixed expression stripped from anything else. 

The girl quickly took out a mineral water and dashed into the cash register.  

I also went to the check out my drink (Pocari Sweat), and queued behind her. 

The man behind the cash register was friendly - young, perhaps in his 20s. I don't know if he found the school girl pretty or what, but he smiled at her. And while he was working with his cash register with the girl's purchase, he cheerfully said, "What a lovely day outside!" 

I thought, it's really hot and dusty outside and you call that lovely. But of course I kept quiet. 

He then continued, "Aren't you with a boyfriend?"

Perhaps he meant, it is a lovely day outside; why aren't you spending your day with your boyfriend?

I could see he only asked this out of friendliness, not of curiosity. At least... no apparent intention. But still, I didn't know what prompted him to ask her that question, out of many. Perhaps she was just beautiful - and that all school girls these days always went out with their boyfriends after school, and the very sight of this girl - so pretty and beautiful - was strange enough to the man because she only came by herself... was that it?

While it would prove to be so random yet funny (if he really thought that)... 

I was disturbed by the girl's response. 

The girl - one moment before had been devoid of expression - suddenly pursed her lips in a hint of smile. And then, slowly, ever so slowly, the muscles in her cheeks moved upward, and that small line stretched into a longer line - the smile then became visible and grew even wider. 

It was a sweet smile.

Not a plastic smile, but definitely not a real smile either. 

(What was that smile?)

Yet... she didn't utter a single word for further response. Not a single word. 

(Why?)

But she smiled nonetheless, so the man could only smile. 

(What was it with that smile?)

I was filled with a lot of questions. But of course, the girl, and the man behind the register, were oblivious.

After receiving her change, the girl took her water and went out of the door. 

Outside, she stopped a moment to pocket the change. She moved sideways, and I squinted - looking outside through the glass door at her. 

When her side profile came into view, I saw that the smile was wiped off completely from her face. The lips weren't stretched, they were clamped shut in a flat line, no longer curved. 

Not a hint she was just smiling a moment before.

Once again, devoid of any expression. 

And I shuddered.

Thoughts on No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai

Why... this is a remarkably dark and depressing story of a man who is literally horrified of a human being, who dreads the very notion of society. He is Oba Yozo. He is a man who feels like he doesn't belong - he feels disconnected to other people.

“All I feel are the assaults of apprehension and terror at the thought that I am the only one who is entirely unlike the rest. It is almost impossible for me to converse with other people. What should I talk about, how should I say it? - I don't know.” 

“I am convinced that human life is filled with many pure, happy, serene examples of insincerity, truly splendid of their kind-of people deceiving one another without (strangely enough) any wounds being inflicted, of people who seem unaware even that they are deceiving one another.” 

“I have always shook with fright before human beings. Unable as I was to feel the least particle of confidence in my ability to speak and act like a human being, I kept my solitary agonies locked in my breast. I kept my melancholy and my agitation hidden, careful lest any trace should be left exposed. I feigned an innocent optimism; I gradually perfected myself in the role of the farcical eccentric.” 

“As long as I can make them laugh, it doesn’t matter how, I’ll be alright. If I succeed in that, the human beings probably won’t mind it too much if I remain outside their lives. The one thing I must avoid is becoming offensive in their eyes: I shall be nothing, the wind, the sky.” 

It strikes me a great deal how familiar and understandable his thoughts and perceptions are - despite the fact that later on in the story he is claimed as a madman. The complexity of the details depicted from his very narration is not even foreign, his acquired concept of life is explicable and perceivable. Why he does certain things - hiding, escaping, running away, pretending, losing hopes all too early, torturing his own soul, committing a suicide, to convincing himself again and again that he doesn't deserve happiness - he makes one atrocious choice after another yet the rationale behind his godawful choices that condemns his life to a living hell - heck it does make sense. Yes, the most horrible thing of all, it does make sense, and I could unsurprisingly relate to his thoughts.

“I myself spent the whole day long deceiving human beings with my clowning. I have not been able to work much up much concern over the morality prescribed in textbooks of ethics under the name as “righteousness.” I find it difficult to understand the kind of human being who lives, or who is sure he can live, purely, happily, serenely while engaged in deceit. Human beings never did teach me that abstruse secret. If I had only known that one thing I should never have had to dread human beings so, nor should I have opposed myself to human life, nor tasted such torments of hell every night.” 

“Unhappiness. There are all kinds of unhappy people in the world. I suppose it would be no exaggeration to say that the world is composed entirely of unhappy people. But those people can fight their unhappiness with society fairly and squarely, and society for its part easily understands and sympathizes with such struggles. My unhappiness stemmed entirely from my own vices, and I had no way of fighting anybody.” 

The saddest thing of all, is even until the end of the story, he still doesn't know - let alone experience - the slightest bit of what happiness is. Or perhaps, fail to notice it. He has fallen too deep in his own mind-made chasm and the society doesn't even help him, or cushion his fall.

“Mine has been a life of much shame. I can't even guess myself what it must be to live the life of a human being.” 

“I thought, 'I want to die. I want to die more than ever before. There’s no chance now of a recovery. No matter what sort of thing I do, no matter what I do, it’s sure to be a failure, just a final coating applied to my shame. That dream of going on bicycles to see a waterfall framed in summer leaves—it was not for the likes of me. All that can happen now is that one foul, humiliating sin will be piled on another, and my sufferings will become only the more acute. I want to die. I must die. Living itself is the source of sin.” 

“The world, after all, was still a place of bottomless horror. It was by no means a place of childlike simplicity where everything could be settled by a simple then-and-there decision.” 

This is a brilliantly thought-provoking book. Deep, oppressively daunting, but interesting all the same.

I just really want to hug Yozo.

5 of 5 stars.

Goodreads | Book Depository | Amazon

Saturday Afternoon

Spending quality time on Saturday afternoon. Conversing some idle, stupid talks...  over Oreo Cheesecake and frappes and tea. And scoops of ice cream. 

"The Secret of Success in Life"

=p

This quote is from the front page of a menu book in this restaurant I happened to dine in last week.

One of the Nicest Feelings Ever.

Today's weather - early morning, to be precise - was really nice. The air was cool, the sky was brilliant blue, that post-rain weather which was incredibly nice but rare, the after-effect of heavy and constant rainfalls from the very day before. The wind. Did I say it was nice? I'd say it again; it felt nice against my skin. Reminds me of Puncak. I love it when it was breezy or even a little bit chilly, but the sun was up there in view, shining equally brilliantly against the blue, unobstructed by the clouds.

One of the nicest feelings ever. 

And I thought, on the back of motorcycle (when I was going to work) this morning, hey, this was the kind of day when one should spend happily. In other words, when one should be happy. 

And then I imagined myself, with my friends, in this framed imagination of mine, just landed in Japan (FYI, I'm planning to, but still have no success in getting a friend to go with). We took photos together, with sun at the background picture, feeling proud. 

Aish. I'm feeling wistful. But still, to imagine this kind of imagination feels grudgingly wonderful. 

Because, it can be real, and I can achieve it. But at the same time feels so far away. 

Do you think I should go to Japan myself?

I would be happy, of course. But there will be no one to share my happiness with. And eventually, I will be sad =(

The Not-So Trivial Thing

Last night I logged in to my facebook account, unopened and abandoned after a while, and surprisingly found a new message in my inbox. I was wondering who would send me a message via facebook - my close friends would've known better than to contact me via this platform.

But then again, I should've known better.

It was an old friend of mine, a friend from my junior high, who I lastly met in person probably during my first year of senior high. Last time we contacted each other was through facebook, of course (what else?), and that was about a year ago.

It was funny. Because we weren't even close to begin with when we were in school. We never were. I don't really remember why, but when we graduated from junior high and I moved out to a different high school, it was after that we started to talk. I mean, chatting online - again - through facebook. Some idle talks, not frequent, but it didn't feel the slightest awkward when we shifted to heavier subjects. Like, about feelings.

You see, I used to like his best friend, and he used to like my best friend.

This world is funny like that. But that was in the past anyway.

I remembered he was talking about his feelings to my best friend - it was unhappy stories. But, again, that was in the past.

But then I think we didn't talk again for some time later, until it was after my birthday last year in 2012.

It was a surprise. He sent me a message, something out of the blue, because he said, more or less: "Hey, I just happened to see your Tumblr. So, you like Final Fantasy songs too?"

Well, I used a flash player on my Tumblr - and I put my favorite FF theme songs and Joe Hisaishi's songs on my playlist.

And he pointed out that he knew and liked FF songs as well; so when he visited my tumblr, he was kind of liking the feel of it.

And we talked again, for a short period of time, about how each of us was doing and coping with life. But then our communication stopped again. I'd been so busy with life and work, and I didn't even realize another year has passed and we're now approaching year end.

This friend sent me another out-of-the-blue message via facebook, which was last night.

He said: "You should check this out," he sent me a link to a youtube video. "I just listened to this song and somewhat I am remembered of you."

It was Masashi Hamauzu's "Besaid Island", a recompose, for Final Fantasy X HD Remaster.

 

And I laughed.

Honestly speaking, the gesture is not something big or touching.

But I'm somewhat made more amazed, because he bothered to send the link to me - which I'm very thankful for - because I never listened to this piece before and I ended up liking it so much.

"Besaid Island" is probably my most favorite Nobuo Uematsu's piece from FFX. And although it's been many years since I played the game itself, "Besaid Island" - always, of course - has a place in my playlists throughout the years, either in my winamp, mp3 player, iPod, or my mobile phone's music playlist.

And Hamauzu's rearrangement is surprisingly beautiful. Lovely.

So I could only smile, when I think how my friend - with our infrequent (rare, in the rarest sense possible) communication - seems to remember something which, to other people, would probably trivial matters.

That he remembers, and understands.

To tell you the truth, we are not that close now, even now. We still never meet - we never have reasons to, he's with his own life and I'm with my own life.

Regardless, he's a friend. Period.

My Ever-So-Growing To-Read Books

My new books - as per October 29 2013

Another to-read batch borrowed from Elise! Kate DiCamillo books! (Nov. 1 2013)

And finally, another batch of new additions to my bookshelf (bought from book fair), as per Nov. 2, 2013! 

Can't wait to read them!