One
two three, one two three…
My proud gaits take me to the center of spotlight, where I am overwhelmed by
the myriad of flashlights and brightly twinkling eyes – all anticipating what
legendary show I have prepared to perform before them. As I check the mic, a
million thoughts rush inside my brain, making complex connections between every
neuron in every possible way:
“How
did anyone come up with microphones in the first place? Who was the lucky
bastard to have his voice heard through a mic for the first time in the history
of mankind? How many different people sympathized or empathized with these lyrics?”
Then, when the first note come out of my
cords, the rambling of thoughts reach their final stop and all my nerves join
together to form an anticipation of energetic excitement. As the song develops,
however, the myriad of pairs of oval lights merge into one huge blur of
disenchantment. When the melody fades, I will have to step down from the stage and
be forgotten from the repertoire.
Every show starts with a burst of
joy and anticipation but ends with fading drama. The performers can do their
best but in the end, all they achieve – if they’re lucky enough – is a faint
sense of emotion lingering in their minds.
"All
the world's a stage"
Every start comes with an ending,
and this holds as much truth for life as it does for shows. In that vein,
everything surrounding us is really nothing much more than mere pineapple cans,
waiting on the display stand for their expiration date to come. There is a set
ending destined for everyone and everything – it’s just a matter of sooner or
later. So instead of crying with abject despair after acknowledging our fate, we’d
better make the best out of what we currently have.
Still,
you know what? Promising to yourself you are going to live life at its fullest
while we have the opportunity may sound easy, but when you remind yourself of the
resemblance to the miserable pineapple cans on the icy, steel rack, it’s not as
easy as it sounds. You feel some parts of the juicy, yellow pulps are going to
rot in any second. Most people fail to find just the right preservative and end
up “rotten,” far before their date of expiration. For me, the easiest way out
of this state of staleness was by idolizing the lives of splendid characters portrayed
in movies, books, and pretty much any other genre of art. In a way, my idols
were some sort of drugs in my life.
While
I was sitting here, hopelessly watching as time did its magical yet cold-blooded
trick, all those living incarnations of awesomeness were playing lead roles in
each and every one of their lives – although in a fictional land. They and
their connections to each other lingered on in the minds of many including
myself. June and her Joy Luck Club never seemed to expire, even when time
passed and some of its members were dead. The white feather which “carried all
good intentions” will always have the same old heartfelt intentions to June,
even many years after her mother’s burial.
“Ooh, I think I like your pineapple can
theory. Except that you already have a Joy Luck Club of your own!”
Hayoung,
the daughter of my mom’s closest friend, suggested after she heard about my
pineapple can theory. You see, I've been close friends with children of my
mother’s best friends as the three families spent so much time together and
made fond memories. It is a bond I’d never wish to lose. Nowadays, the three
families do not meet as often as we did when we were little kids, but we still keep
in touch and hold annual gatherings. Although we do not keep the bond as
connected as before, I’ve now realized that the memories live on forever, just
like June’s precious feather.
Right
here, right now. These are the magical words to living life fully. Look around,
and enjoy what you have, and you’ll be surprised to find out what valuable
memories still linger on.
One two three, One two three…I step down from the stage. This time, I’m
no longer miserable, for the end of one show means the start of another, the
jolly pile of fond memories piling up time after time.
