|
|
Wayne pulled out his iPad.
"Just look at it. Flip through it."
It was the levels pages of Angry birds.
You see, for past months, we had been furiously addicted to this game of crushing pigs with flying birds shot from a sling. It wasn't enough to just get past all the stages, it became paramount that we collected three stars for each stage, a mark of excellence of our mastery in pigs slaughter.
I flipped through the pages in silence. Every level was marked with three stars.
"You are crazy." I announced.
He turned away slowly and smugly, knowing full well I actually meant, "Wow."
I had to hand it to him, he was determined to make the difficult possible. It was, I suppose in other words, an accomplishment. Of sorts. He was this close to not making the definition.
I try to remember the people closest to me and some of their accomplishments. Big or small.
My dad washed dishes to pay for his school fees, my mother raised 3 daughters on $300 a month for years. My sister Kia remained kooky and genuine despite of her high flying job, and there is the other sister Jeanette.
One day Jeanette came home from the hospital at lunch time. She looked exactly like someone who had been up all night with snatches of sleep in between. She plopped down by the dinner table and told me she managed to dig all the shit out of this man who had renal failure while I was having soup. I put my bowl down.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I had to, he couldn't pass shit, if I didn't he would die of toxicity."
"Oh."
"Tonight!"
"Ohkay! I get it!"
I resumed drinking my soup, then it suddenly struck me,
"You did it with your hands?"
She rolled her eyes and said,
"With gloves on of course silly."
I don't think I told you, but that my dear, is an accomplishment.
I supposed all these little things may not amount to much at this point.
And sometimes we wonder why we do the things we do, be it soldiering on with bombing pigs or digging fecal waste from someone's intestines. Some of it makes complete sense, and some do not.
But i believe in the cool cliche that everything happens for a reason. Just like Steve Jobs and his course in typography in college. Just like washing dishes behind a restaurant in winter. Just like plowing for shit. And what the hell, maybe, just like slaughtering pigs on your iPad. We may not have the answers now, and maybe at the end of it, we realised we do it only just because, WE CAN . Hell yeah everybody, hell yeaaaaah. Let's roll. |
|
