What does * mean to you now?
Oftentimes, it's a symbol to call your attention to some particular note.Sometimes, it's used as a bullet to enumerate a particular list.
In MS Excel, it's the multiplication sign.
But now, * to me is one dead little fly.
Let me explain....
I recall one weekday morning at Jollibee Crossings, 7:30 in the morning as I nurse a cup of brew while I read the morning paper. Out of the blue, I heard a sound...
WHAK!
I looked around and saw a girl from the service crew swatting flies with a flyswatter. (Like, duh!)
And for the life of me, I don't know why now I feel this compulsion to write about that particular moment. Maybe it was because of the coffee... maybe it was because of last night's tension... Or maybe I just have this fascination with things that seem inconsequential and trifle. (Don't worry, I have no intentions of being profound. More often than not, I come off contrived when I make attempts at profundity. No, for now, I will settle into inanity and take me where the downwind leads me.)
I couldn't help but notice how much the flyswatter girl took pride in her task. In fact, a little bit too much for my comfort.
You should have seen the way her eyes gleamed when she stalked her unsuspecting victim.
She moved ever so slowly... sneaking forward...
Every move executed purposefully... like an African lionness stalking her prey...
The lonely fly crawled across the dirty plastic table top, completely oblivious to the murderous intent focused on it.
It seemed to sense some sort of danger but couldn't place how or why it felt so. Therefore, it hesitated.
Little did it know it would be the last mistake it will ever make.
It was ready to set its wings to flight when....
...WHAK!
A million little baby maggots have lost their momma.
Sometimes I feel like the flyswatter girl.
There are those moments when you feel you can take on the world. Everything you do is a careful, calculated motion towards a goal. You plan, you scheme, you fashion yourself into this well-oiled machine. When something comes around to challenge your will, you cut it down to pieces and stand on its charred remains like a Mutalisk on the mound of rotting Terran flesh... You tell the world, "I can kick your ass anywhere, anytime. Bring it on."
And then, there are a LOT of times when I feel like the fly.
There you are, minding your own business. You make yourself as inconspicous as possible. You avoid conflict. You stay in that little comfortable corner you've made for yourself, thinking you are secure. And just when you think it's safe to spread your wings a little... your world gets rocked - BIG TIME.
Get the picture? I bet you do.
As morbid as this may seem, I LIVE for this stuff. I live for those moments when I'm the flyswatter girl. In that same breath I also will say that I also live for the times when I'm the fly.
Either way, uncertainty, danger, doubt and confidence are at play. The million dollar question always was and will be: "When are you the swatter and when are you the fly?"
And thankfully, the answer is, you will never know.
Damn, what an adventure we live.
