I would have awoken at my fastly becoming early morning rise at four in the morning were it not for a heavy migraine, a slight fever, and heavily heated eyes brought most likely by a confluence of the previous night's hard rainfall, late sleep, and the afternoon's taxing training workshop on farmers' rights. It was largely due to this combination of unfortunate events that made me miss a free trip around the fictional agricultural state of Mohadua for the following day's training workshop activities.
i can't make it. it's not really that i don't feel up for a trip to a fictional country but much of the time can be delved into assessing our current situation. i am truly hoping that something concrete and achievable can be reached after - perhaps some sort of a working group on the rights of farmers and plant genetic resources for food and agriculture. as this concept is significantly connected to the issue of conservation and sustainable use, then a framework that achieves to link these concerns. better and more complicated, a more comprehensive framework that links all concerns on biodiversity - conservation, sustainable use, rights, biosafety, biopiracy, access and benefit sharing, traditional knowledge, and what else have we...
my head suddenly bolts into a searing pain as thoughts came flying into my mind. i do have a lot of concerns - noble and intellectual ones, real and socially relevant themes - which i need to level-off with myself once more. the gestation of ideas in mind thrills me, excites me, at the same time send my head to throb too much. the agony of the migraine equates to an unlikely intellectual pleasure - i may have been during those instants a sadist and masochist in one - enjoying every bit of pain that the pleasure of thinking brings.
i hear the clinking of glasses below - an apparent exchange of spirits from a canterbury bottle with the cool icy vapor from a semi-crystalline drinking glass. it reminds me how much i have been missing the taste of liquor and the high that the basal liquid induces my mind to grapple on focus and clear thinking.
instability may have been the result of too much and too long sobriety. indeed, i must have a dip.
canterbury tastses much like bailey's... or like a chocolate bar with liquor having melted and combined to create a hybrid chocolate-liquor treat. he left the unfinished glass on the roundtable downstairs, and it was not enough to satisfy a re-budding craving. i refill the glass with another pour from the canterbury bottle. the spirit is stronger, minus the dilution by the ice.
would you call someone depressed if he drinks all by him or herself?
hmmm. most likely...
what if he seems to enjoy himself while drinking liquor alone?
well it might be...
and if he is laughing while drinking alone?
he or she most likely is.
you mean he or she would appear more depressed. i am confused. but alas, life can really be such, sometimes you can't tell based on what appears to be, when what we see can really be the opposite. you may see a person appearing to be laughing his heart out, but deep inside, he could be on the verge of losing hope and in tears. other times, you may see a person appearing to be in hopeless tears but is actually truly and dyingly happy.
he answers as if to humor me. i answer as if to humor myself. i end up the butt-end of the story. i look around, no, i don't see yet a prospect wife, and another glass of canterbury is not an option anymore. i see my ara-container humbly displayed on a table. without hesitation, i located a small bowl and poured a generous amount of the red-dyed ara, while thinking of the past, my present, and what the future possibly holds for me. the ara holds a story too and it will eventually wind up to become part of my story. i relieve the bowl of its contents and prayerfully engulf what i was thinking as a good blessing for a humbled man.