This morning, I woke up at 10:30. In a matter of minutes, I was back in front of the computer, scrabbling at the keyboard, fighting Nightkin and scrounging for fission batteries. After I realised all my saves were corrupted for the third time in a row, I got up annoyedly and retreated into the room with The Doomsday Key, a novel by James Rollins.
I love the way Rollins is able to expertly weave and interlink several unrelated locations and events, ranging from the Colony Collapse Disorder to the Svalbard Global Seed Vault into a story while describing every place and happening with such impeccable believability.
So I finished the book. I frowned to myself. Damn, now there’s nothing to help me procrastinate.
Drenched in perspiration from the stifling heat of the afternoon sun, I wandered back out to the living room and declared that I wanted to cycle. Anything to avoid doing Project Work. Besides, didn’t exercise release hormones. You know, those… happiness hormones. Endolphins. Dopeamines. Serotonins. Whatever, I just needed them, along with some fresh air.
I hopped onto the creaking bicycle and towards the park. Getting onto a bike for the first time in weeks feels extremely liberating; The breeze brushing past your pant legs and sleeves, stroking your face as you trundle down the pavement; the damp, familiar smell of nature all around the park; the rush of adrenaline as you speed past cars and pedestrians.
As I zip down the lonely pathway into carpark A, a couple of yellow leaves flutter down from the trees ahead, almost like confetti during a parade. I smile to myself, picturing the scene in my head. The pungent stench of horse manure from the pony farm ahead forces itself up my nostrils, snapping me back to reality. Disgusted, I pounded my feet onto the pedals as hard as I could and sped along, as quickly away from the retching odour as possible.
I eyed a few children on bikes ahead and sped along faster, in a mock show of bravado and might. To challenge myself, to see how fast I dared go before I lost control. My shirt stuck against my chest as I perspired from the effort and the wind whispered encouragingly past my ears, wiping the sweat off my rosy cheeks. This is what I’m talking about! Wanting to go even faster, I twiddled the knobs on the handles – each gave a satisfying click and thunk as gears shifted – although I wasn’t very sure what changing gears did. I just liked how it made me feel and maybe look like I knew what I was doing. For once, at least. I’m such an escapist.
It’s the only way to stay sane, isn’t it?
Seconds later, as if to challenge my dreamy thoughts, I hit a drop on the pavement. The handlebar which I had been pressing on twisted downwards, throwing me slightly off balance. Oh damn it, the sodded thing’s loose again! I fought to regain control of the bike, letting loose a string of curses under by breath (goddamnfuckinghellshitnabei) and managed to right it before swerving round a bend. I grimaced, finding the bike much harder to steer and brake. Shitting hell, this was exactly why I stopped cycling.
Needing a break from all this self-inflicted “action”, I entered the SAFRA chalet through the side gate and stopped in front of a small cafe. My bottom felt agonisingly sore as I stepped awkwardly towards the counter. I purchased a small bottle of root beer, nodding to the cashier reflexively when I collected my change. Bah, I thought while chugging down the beverage, the only thing these chalets are ever good for. I plinked the bottle into the bike’s basket and headed out of the compound.
I cycled from end to end of the park, having alternating periods of speeding and slowing down while swearing silently about the literal pain in my arse. Deciding that it was time to go home, I pushed my bike up a hill, letting out a string of curses. Thanks to the positioning of the handles now, going down became a nightmare as I struggled to reach for the brakes while having control of the bike as well.
Dreary and spent, I trundled back to my apartment, all too happy to lock my bike back in its rightful place. The shower provides a simple, often overlooked luxury- the cool wash of water running down your back. The water turned warm soon after.
I exited the shower and… returned to my computer.
Damnit.
I’ve currently come full circle, back to what I’ve been trying to avoid – I’m now perched before my computer, fingers flying across the keyboard, occasionally straying to an interesting website or two. This time, with a pounding migraine above my eyebrow and some difficulty to focus my eyes on words.
It’s going to be a long time before I return to my bike again. I’ll keep telling myself that.
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Actually, this is for Day 4 but I went cycling just now and it’d be more convenient. I reckon no one’s interested in how I regret getting a C5 for Chinese.
Cycling’s not much of a routine thing for me as revising for tests 2 weeks in advance is.
I don’t actually need to defer for NS yet so whoop. For me.