Unbroken

Half-way between the base and the blade, the electric fan has a big crack below the switch box. It was a structural flaw made worse by the constant force when being pushed around to make space inside my small room.

Now the fan won't stand on its own. It tilts downward and falls to the ground because the propeller and its blade guard are heavier than its motor. Despite this defect, the fan would still spin its blade. It still cools the air when the fan is switched on, and as long as someone directs its air flow.

I asked the house-help to wrap electrical tape around the crack. This is to add strength to the already weakened torso. However, the electric appliance still continues to tilt. We then applied feet of  packaging tape around the midsection to reinforce the base adhesive. When this didn't work, contemplating on buying a new appliance became my next  fixation.

Too weak to go out, I could have asked someone to buy me a replacement.  But the fan will be bought on credit and  I am the only one allowed to sign my card. Finding a proxy is out of   the  question and  I  am being torn apart by the guilt that I'd be throwing away something that might still work - albeit dysfunctionally.

Necessity is the mother of all invention and we made the fan stand up by knotting a wire around its rotating mechanism and securing it at the base. We also used a string to loop the motor and fasten it  below the crack.  The fan did stand up this time  and  carried cool air where it is needed.

But we know, it wouldn't be for long.

The  crack continues to tear through the mid-section.  It's just a matter of days if not weeks before the fan tilts again  - this time - becoming too unstable to be used. Should this happen, funds are ready to source a replacement.  But for now,  as long as the electric fan is still working, we can find relief knowing we don't have to spend a dime for unplanned purchases.

The electric fan reminds me of how things are at home lately. With the desktop sometimes failing to display the  video, (one needs to reboot the system until the screen comes to life) to the long-delayed plans of buying an air-conditioner,  (the complexity of installing it in the master's bedroom hampers our progress) to the afflictions, (imagined or otherwise) keeping  us  from  moving forward, one can see through our state of dysfunction, yet we go through life still unbroken.

And embrace our purpose until our time is exhausted.

Reset Button

I have nothing to write anymore...

And why do you say that?

Don't know, my mind feels empty.


All the time.

 Is it true, or you just fill you head with so many things,

But you don't know how to draw them out anymore?

Possibly. I always conk out before I could finish my last sentence.

Just like right now?

Yes. See, I don't even know how to end this.

May I ask, why do you write again?

I don't know, maybe to express a thought?  To mark a memory?


To weave words so they would become music to one's ears?

Too pompous don't you think?

No it isn't.  *sighs*

Just admit that this is your way of confession:

To put some distance between your dreams and frustrations.

You can think of it that way, but I won't agree.

Because this is a much better life?

Lull...


Anyway, let me shake this blues a bit. 

Why did I return here in the first place?

Ummm because this is your home?

Ahh, the planetship?

Yes.

But can't you see, I'm already a satellite.

Let me clarify, a planetship that orbits a world.

Yes.

Well then, Mister Satellite.  How do you wish to resolve this?

Do you still want to write?

Let's see. I'm doing this to fill the space.

And?

Let this serve as a temporal bridge before I finally decide 

To disappear or not..

Okay.

I'm glad you're seeing it that way.

I say let's end this monologue now before he returns to the subconscious.

Agree

And let him drift to his destination.

Agree.

We will write without reasons

And pretend that nobody's reading

Okay

If time comes we don't find this exercise helpful anymore.

Uh huh.

We will disappear, without saying a word.

Okay.

So that when we finally decide to weave words again.

This beacon remains, floating among the stars.

Self-dialogue borrowed 

from the Spiralprince.