Saturday, February 7, 2009

Oh, I really wish I could say what's on my mind. There's just so much to filter and distill. My hands can't keep up.


How's this for a start.

I think it was about a month ago. I was at the beach. I swam toward a floating ledge (I'm not quite sure what to call it. Just imagine huge blocks of Lego forming a square frame and floating in the sea).

I was about a hundred feet or so from the shore. It was there, out in the deep, with the wind howling and the waves crashing and me facing out toward the sea, that I had the overwhelming urge to scream. Just scream. Like Edward Munch "Scream"-scream.

But I didn't. I wasn't able to---'cause I wasn't the only one out there on the ledge. I don't know what I was trying to let out. It's just sad that I didn't do it. I think I'd feel a lot better if I did.

Plus I don't think I've ever heard myself scream before; I'm curious to find out how my voice sounds like when I scream.

I remember this one time in school, I think it was speech class. We were supposed to read a line in a book. Emphatically, with as much emotion as we could muster. The line I was supposed to read was "Fire! Fire! Help!"---or something along those lines.

My head spun and my palms sweat as person after person was called and I realized my turn was coming. I read those lines over and over. I could hear my voice screaming in my head. But when my turn came, my voice wouldn't come out. Despite much prodding from my teacher, I just couldn't make myself do it. Until he grew frustrated and called the next person. My face must have turned red from the effort. And I was embarrassed 'cause I was the only one who couldn't do that one simple thing.

Then there was this movie I watched with a friend. A Japanese film; I think the title was Hanging Garden. And the one scene that stayed in my mind was when the main character---a housewife---was out in her veranda-cum-hanging garden in the twenty-something-floor of her family's apartment. The sky was raining blood, and she was screaming. Just short, shrill staccato screams. She screamed because her husband was having an affair with a dominatrix (whose car stereo kept playing a song whose lines went "I bit your nipple"--or something along those lines) and her daughter just recently started to get curious over love motels and she suspects her son is having a little tryst with his D-cupped tutor. And as for her, she's a housewife. And so she screamed. I don't know if I was supposed to laugh or be horrified at the scene. All I thought was it must be refreshing to be able to openly scream like that.

I just really want to scream. I hope I'd get scream in this lifetime. Fingers crossed.