Chapter 6 -The Train Naps

Daisy was gone for too long. She timidly arose from a nap and could feel her neck bent and sore from the left side. Rubbing it, she felt the temporary relief of coming back to Life after journeying tumultuously on the other side. The train was still moving across moist carpeted land with moss coloured greenery and trees that look like LEGO pieces. She didn’t quite understand when she transitioned back, but she was glad to be here smelling the faint stink of ham and cheese, quite possibly brie.

When you time travel you don’t require nourishment. You only need the specific ability to qualm emotions and transfer to and from sight and blindness. You don’t actually want to see the workings of Elevententeen, what’s behind there is extremely frightening. The framework is made up of spider-like grids, but when you see it, it moves and pulses like a living thing. Daisy shuddered at the mere thought of it. She quickly patted her yellow eyelet dress to ensure it was still in existence. Another way to halt the screams (screams occur when your brain computes the framework pulsing) was to enter Elevententeen with a very specific wardrobe, preferably containing bold colours, pattern and texture.

Sighing Daisy remembered what it was like in social media school to learn about plain old graphic art and design attributes. That stuff was existential now, it served no purpose. People only wanted multi-dimensional graphics, that breathed and pulsed and held meaning. I guess altering genetics in 2019 completely erased humans’ needs for new things and surprisingly technology. Technology also no longer occurred. It was too fickle and rambunctious, so nobody cared about it. It was only about Artha, Manipura and finding pure butter that could slip you back through the framework unnoticed and at a slippery pace.

Daisy shook her head fast and opened her eyes large. “I need to discern if this sandwich comes from land or the sea.” There were no humans on the train today, only empty seats and a refined beaver sipping quietly on Earl Grey. “Well, he looks. Dry relaxed, so I think this comes from the land.” The beaver heard her think and adjusted his frames while cocking his head North East. He wanted to see if he could grab the newspaper from thin air instead of having to hold it in his hands. Paper was so archaic, he thought. Daisy wasn’t sure if he noticed her. Her heart skipped a beat and stopped for a moment as he again adjusted himself out of what looked like discomfort. Inhaling a deep breath, they both fell deeply asleep.

The reflection on the mirror was blank.

TBC

I’ve Got Some Work To Do, So Please Stay Awake!

Day by day, she fought to stay awake. At night, facing the white wall, she would see her breath come back instantaneously, stirring her into place. The gaze could not help but stare at the odd black shadow that looked like a miniature black, spider web plague.

But seriously, in uni guys, I was feverishly napping on an ex-boyfriend’s mattress and my breath came to me instantaneously, stirring my mind up like a messy face. There was no odd black shadow, but the conceptual piece I had just completed about a red cross, red intersecting paint brushes — which over a predetermined schedule of time morphed (by me painting over it) into a black matte surface of nothingness — was replaced with a glowing symbol of something or other.

Could have been yellow.

I can barely remember.

I gasped for air, clutching my heart as I stared into Kevin’s barren closet only to see me as a ‘doctor’, healing the world from every known pain of mankind. In that moment, my heart sung and I cried. I felt adorned, but yet I was confused as to how this could have happened. How this could be a reality that I, simple Chona Fe, changed the world. How could I be the charging force that set everything in place.

The only other time this happened again, I was napping, this time at my aunt’s house around the bend from our house, in one of the empty rooms. (Note: Filipino homes always have empty rooms) All of the post 80s furniture, including a mainly stark but super reflective black master’s bedroom set had no meaning or intent in that place. That place where I slumbered and was suddenly awoken by, myself. I think I was 13, sitting up abruptly on the left side of the bed staring at myself. Yelling, screaming at the top of my lungs.

I was looking at a reflection that wasn’t ours.

My brother and my cousins, Ryan and Vanessa,  ran from the playground in the centre of the crescent. They heard my scream, they were horrified to think something terrible had happened. But nothing did. I was alive. I was not attacked or eaten in the middle of my sleep. Vanessa grabbed me and I blinked slowly thrice. “What. The. Fuck. I…don’t know what just happened, but I think I…died and I…saw a different person in my…reflection.” I couldn’t even continue. It was that bad.

TBC

Chapter 5 – The Train Ride

I had a semi heart attack when I realized I left my computer at work. Daisy folded her legs out of bed, throwing her white duvet towards her pillows in an act of defiance or something like that. For some reason, she could feel her forehead wrinkle as she quickly discerned, “Oh, just wonderful. I’m angry again.” She walked towards earth, sashaying in a banana yellow-toned gold.

Comma.

She entered. Now, walking criss-crossed down the tree-lined, brick-rung park pathway, she hated this part. She knew they tried to conceal the portal at the ‘end’ of the line, but you could always see it. The air around it was crinkly and wet. It was also technologically Prussian, giving off data to Whom (a.k.a. Google Analytics). They were still around, you know. In any case, she supposed most disconcerted artists would notice it.

Daisy proclaimed with both arms outstretched towards the new entrant, “Hop right in!” She was stretching really. He didn’t notice it. He was a mediocre-sized weasel carrying ‘today’s’ paper and sporting a rather smart trilby hat appropriately coloured rat. Hmm, I wonder if he’s just come in from the races? Daisy adjusted herself, pulling her navy blue rayon skirt down her legs.

Filburt squinted quintessentially. She has to think I’m coming here from the 50s, otherwise this proposition just won’t work. “Ahem!” Daisy stopped daydreaming for one second. She was playing with the ‘quaint daisy design’, imagining days of lorn, when she was just a wee little cartoon. “Yes?” “What is your girth? And are you in a state of dominant Manipura?” 

She didn’t even bother to reply. What a stupid statement. Of course she was. She always was. Especially in Free state. Daisy curtly ruffled her shiny snakeskin BCBG and answered him, “I am now going to roll my eyes and you are going to walk that way. In that direction.” Filburt trembled like a dandelion in new spring wind and promptly – disappeared. Goddamnit! Skirt?! Stomach?! For Christ’s sake!

I don’t have time for this patience. The Need paused. This is not something new. The Pause crossed long, lanky arms and turned his eyeballs in reverse. Training never ended, Daisy hated it. She had been through it a million and ten times. She was even beginning to seem like him. The father of all wrong doing. Addictions created them. Where found them. Elevententeen was their only solace. “Please come, spring”

TBC

Chapter 4 – The Sycophant

This cannot be happening right now.

Daisy expired and shook her head as time and time again she did. We don’t exist, we are bars of Nanaimo treats screwed up on Haloperidol mixed with a touch of boxed salad greens. 

So where do we begin? 

She approached Alice who was expecting her as she sat cross-legged on a slice of Dream. “Miss Alice, are you here? Did you have anything?” This role reversal thing just made it all so complicated. 

They were all messed up. The transition from wifi to digitization wasn’t her, pretty much everyone in town KNEW and it felt like people could FEEL the change, but no one would talk about it in actuality.

It’s just so much more interesting. 

What? 

This new job! 

I figured out 5 routes to sudden insight in writing, they are – 

Fast, 

Open and shut, 

Take your time, 

Who cares and 

Believe.

Shall we keep going?

The weekend felt like an eternity. She wished she could swoon over these feelings, but she just craved having her own office and working. Daisy gathered her yellow skirt which had fine white polka dots, a fine white mesh of squid tulle and an admirable edging of white eyelet lace. She pronounced with a deep breath to whomever was not there – Here ye, here ye are, we are short, we are tall, we are bright, we are dull. We are equal and there is something out there telling us we aren’t. Try not to be confused, but to trace your steps back towards home, it isn’t where you feel your bones turn cold and your face falls flat. That’s all she had to do for today, but she was exhausted because she spent days preparing.

Social media nowadays did just that. Having to bring together Others was painstakingly dull, hence why the word always made its way into her announcements. Daisy tried to remember why she wanted this job in the first place.

I don’t feel right. 

Alice from Wonderland awoke from a banana split second to comment, “Recall in your sleep, then awake and for the next every day of your life, return to your commonplace and remember what stands as your truth and reality – resolve, confidence and ultimately, sober things.” Then her eyes shut, but bulgy and half-peeped, she yawned, turned around onto her Dream and went back to bed. 

Chona had a look at where she was. White Spot…hmm…Telus and an escalator as white as pine chairs…hmmm. She was just waiting to see Seventeen and Each Other. It was A Day and she felt 92, but was probably more like a 93. “Don’t forget to measure your immeasurability.” Ugh. It always came out the wrong way. Immeasurability is when one does not make sense for various points and reasons not yet to be discussed. Still, wearing a t-shirt from which her periphery seemed pink, she was holding onto a couple of secrets and there was good reason for it, “It has left.”, “It has gone for good.” I just get worried because I force myself to smile for having an image of my face cropped up in my mind where I look exhausted and homeless. Dr. Waterson at least said I always look flawless.

Daisy quipped all brightly and dull, “Ya don’t NEED to eat the milk, hasn’t this body image disturbance issue been cured?”

Oh just shut up. 

They were both wearing matching lumber jackets. Difficulties often arose in their marriage, however as time was different at least they still had the capacity to travel through the same rate of simultaneous combustive think, it frustrated them both, making them more porcelain and less matte. “We are old.”, “Yes, we are.” 

Daisy remembers crashing the car in 2006, there were banks of snow everywhere as large as clouds plopped down from the sky. She was psychotic and he was possibly Hindu, but as she sped away jacked on thoughts and cigarettes, A Tree followed her, off the main road. She tried to get away, but she just couldn’t and then, they stopped right next to a previous residence to talk. He parked behind the car and walked up to her window that was crusted with ice. 

Daisy remembers the solid air inside her vehicle, her paranoia and delusions stuck amidst cold breath and the dark matter of her car’s ripped seats. She was so scared, more scared than she had ever been in her life as a burly thick man with a bushy red beard approached her on her left side. She rolled down the window and two pairs of eyes extremely intense, proceeded to think. There was silence and patches of foggy air between them. He questioned her actions realistically, but Daisy was determined, “He didn’t die! He was protected by a higher being, I swear this on my life!” It was as if two different realities were panning out at the exact same time, one that was cold and real and the other which was super paranoid and just too hard to bear. But A Tree stood there in silence in between moments of questioning, sort of half intrigued and empathetic to whatever Daisy was thinking. And then, he just let her go. Just like that. She drove away, further and further into it all, arriving at an underground graffiti show that wasn’t worth any of her time, but as per usual she always showed up, walked around like she gave a fuck, because it was her job. 

Allow me to circumvent.

I didn’t get sued, I bounce back, always toward the same direction from which I came, but my goal is to eliminate these occurrences, because deep down inside I am able and determined to succeed. The brain is able to do that. Act godlike and everything or, neuroplasticity.

How many years did it take? Oh, I don’t know, maybe 10.

(tbc)

The Writer’s Block & Acceptance Letter

You know when you’re frantically trying to search online for a resume or cover letter template, but everything out there looks pretty much the same? Nothing caters to your creative passion, so you just become frustrated and want to stop trying? The same feelings can occur when attempting to establish an important document.

When I need to write anything technical, the best approach I’ve found so far, is to write right away, as soon as inspiration strikes. Sit in a cafe near a window. Absorb the conversation around you. Smile and sip that joe. Then, attack your phone/laptop, vigorously writing everything down. For someone with an extremely complex creative mind, it helps sometimes to forget about ‘everything’ and just write.

Then, once you have a draft, reach out to your contacts, both ones that are familiar with what you’re dealing with and ones that have no clue, and see what they have to say. Their words can prove invaluable and could incite a new channel of thinking within your brain that hasn’t been accessed because of various reasons. Now, you can attempt a second draft and continue to rely on the opinions of your contacts, it will just be easier that way, in some regard, to keep things mainstream. This process may go on for a bit, but again, the reason for writing and just doing it, is to practice until perfect.

Writer’s Block is described as a condition of being unable to think of what to write or how to proceed with writing (Google). It may be rooted in the early childhood emphasis of performance over process. In my opinion, Writer’s Block is definitely of anxiety. It is an inability to locate courage or the fear of missing steps, so what would be the point of starting. The act of writing itself is complicated, so when you combine that with every day challenges, it  may seem daunting and near impossible to attain some form of productivity. I like to say, at both the beginning and end of a project, what will make or break your success is taking that first uncomfortable step, asking for help when you need it, utilizing your mental capacity to summarize your main points, then finally learning to turn things off and stop ruminating.

Documents small or large have the opportunity to be both shiver-inducing and in charge.

Here is an example of an acceptance letter I wrote for a sales job. What you do with it is up to you!

Morning,
Thank you for your offer of employment.
Q: What question will every CEO have when hiring a new business team member?
A: What makes you the BEST for my business?
I have an arsenal of answers, some are described below.
Q: Let’s begin.
A: I will empower you to be YOUR best and I will put my best talent forward understanding that there will be a learning curve, I can keep up, trust me.
Every project will have a PROCESS to reach a targeted end; I aim to –
Describe and define this process, then –
1. Increase your profit margin by strategically refining your sales purchasing funnel
2. Raise overall awareness & interest in your business
3. Generate more flexibility for the team so that you can create a more successful company
Integrity is the quality of being honest and having strong moral principles or moral uprightness. It is a personal choice to hold one’s self to consistent standards. I will bring forth growth and integrity by focusing on the following –
CLIENT RELATIONS
  • Documenting the customer onboarding process
  • Developing welcome care packages
  • Articulating in-house processes & access to resources to the team and clients
  • Writing case studies about the team, clients and services
  • Creating client profiles
  • Performing client interviews over the phone and/or in person
  • Creating a Q+A document (5-8 questions) for customer stories to promote new business
  • Promoting customer stories to expand our networking community
  • Assisting with creative and technical content in other formats (blog, video etc.)
I can also help with copywriting, idea development, advertising, creative direction, account management and project coordination.
In conclusion: I am intuitive, intelligent and innovative and I intend to find ways to make things simpler and larger for you. Above all, I’m eager to learn. I am genuine. I am constantly inspired. I am enthusiastic and will care about our company’s and clients’ needs. I will proactively listen to my team. I will be dependable & I will deliver! Looking forward to your response!
Thank you and best regards,
Your Name

Chapter 3 – Editing in A Day

“Dude, I’m not coming up yet, I’m not ready.” Daisy was so frustrated, why did he have to control her like that? Why was he in charge and not her? The tag of her green Champion jumper rubbed on her neck and she irritatedly scratched it like a black spider climbing doughy cement. From here on out she was done being told what to do, “I am going to succeed, if it’s the last thing I’m capable of, dangit, I WILL!” Tiny black pills leapt off her skirt making their way down onto pillows marking the street like jewels of yams protruding from the earth. What the heck…where…am…I? Daisy felt silly and stern, “I thought the map was taking me that way…hmm…I am going to have to reconfigure.” She stuck her finger down her throat to feel the recess between her clavicle and sternum, yup, the bump was still there and it felt mightier than before. With a giant sigh of relief Daisy whipped her hand out and quickly rubbed her brow of the pink and yellow sweat trickling wayward towards the bottom of her clogs. The colours were debating with the sunset arguing against this theory: Can we reproduce smells? If only I could see my thoughts. “Is it still not working yet?”, “No.” Okay, well then…let me think. I have zero capability of calculating the difference in time unless it’s through true visuality AND I have thus far only found value in doing everything. Everything is creating. Everything is putting it together. Everything is adding it up.

Chona’s mind went blank. She sat solemnly in the imitation art chair wearing the same worn out neon pink Cotton Ginny t-shirt and whatever pants suited her OCD in that moment of time. To shower or not to shower, that is a key. To remember cucumber, coffee and sex as per Sting singing virtuously, according to the Kama Sutra – a person with the principles of this science, who preserves his virtue, his Artha and his pleasure will obtain the mastery of Each Other. Seventeen always looked like that, predisposed to sleep, but still needing time for rest. Chona Fe yawns and gives up for a bit then hands the paper over to Alice. She bites into it like a rabid snail, if that could ever be possible, but don’t shit the pail because snails are like tricky people. If Daisy could pick just one to imitate it would be the unusual teen at Starbucks. Its head was gargantuan and grotesque because colours from the rainbow of death oozed out of its shell. “Why the HECK would you want to be that?”, Chona Fe answered in a stance of pride, “Well, because its power comes from within, and they are not secret, they are just shown to begin.” So. Alice goes back into hiding and the teen just shrugs. The adventure has now begun, let’s see where it will lead us, nearer to or farther from Elevententeen.

(tbc)