Bugging and Ants

I'm in the library right now, in my usual carrel, and I feel so restless than I can scream like a banshee and make everyone here run for their lives out of this haunted house and into Sol's dwelling, where the leaves wave, the squirrels hop, and the grass glistens and winks. I can, but I won't - I'd like to think I'm not entirely uncivilized. Oh, society! What hast thou done to the unbridled soul that was me?

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I've been bugging Cortaid for the past how many minutes now, interrupting her from her work to have her look at the hot-hot-hot model pictures in Cokelover's blog or at the nature pictures in others. She's been patient and accomodating, so I have to give her a whole lot of credit for that. Not everyone can stand the brat that I can be.

And what is it with the "soul that was me" or "the brat that I can be" phrases? So verbose and unnecessary, honestly. Anyway, yesterday during lunchtime, I attended a talk about the importance of the Arts. One of the things talked about was this sociological trend towards expanding the 'self at leisure.' What I understood was that the 'self at leisure' referred to what was left after stripping away the work and other responsibilities of the person. Interesting concept, yeah? I think so. Except that I don't agree with it (assuming, of course, that the concept is as simple as it was explained). The person is not a compartmentalized bureau. It's a totality. And if you try to isolate one part, then you transform the person into something that it is not.

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Earlier today, I was major stressing out about class registration for this coming fall. So many choices to make (that are themselves based on choices that I don't want to make) and so many permutations, only a few of them within my control. This is funny. In Ateneo, I was never this stressed about reg. I'd pick my classes and that was that. Literally - that was that. My college life was peppered with little trips around the world, from as near as Singapore to as far as South Africa, so out of the eight semesters that I was a Katipunan girl, I think I only personally registered for two. (Thanks once again to my awesome proxies.) Sigh. It's different now. Santa Strawberry and Kiwi Snapple and Dasani water.

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My apartment's being invaded by big black ants. I know they're supposed to be lucky, so I've tried not to kill too many of them. But really, I can't help it if they do stupid things and die. Like one time, I was at the sink, washing my dishes, when this ant races to a water-filled bowl and dives in. I watch the ant. It stays on the surface and swims a bit, waving its stringy digits (what do you call ant arms?) rather frantically, occassionally bending into itself. I say to myself, I didn't know ants were like dogs - natural-born swimmers and flashy ones too. And then the ant stops moving, and I realize that I sort of killed it by not fishing it out with a spoon.

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Some years ago, I forget when, I was at the kitchen sink at our house, wasting water and melting soap, all because I was bored. I saw a baby lizard crawl across the sink. Lizards don't scare me like cockroaches do, but I still didn't like it that the baby lizard was so near me. I turned the faucet on, full-blast, and then used my cupped hands to splash the lizard with water. The lizard tried to get away, but I wouldn't stop my splashing. And then it stopped moving and then sort of sidled down the drain. My playmate had gone.

I told my yaya about it, and she was horrified. Lizards are the souls of people who have died but who can't move on, she said. I believed her and prayed that I'd be forgiven for my sin.