I think I am deaf. I nod absently at a speaker two meters away and force a calculated smile as if I knew what he said. I keep on snorting like a seal in the shower. And I have this bad habit of forcing snot out instead of probing my nose with a cotton bud. I hear music all the time but not enough to make me a human iPod Shuffle. It's not because I am aging but because I have bad habits. Good thing I stopped picking my ears with ballpen caps. Because there's rarely a ballpen around and poking it with a mouse would be an incredible feat.

What sense would you give up if forced to?

For the love of Jove, I'll fight for the sense of sight till death. I like seeing colors and greys, and letters that file upon marching orders from an equally sweet-smelling, ink-infused, moldy-and-crackling or white, paper. I frame compositions in my mind, and wished that cameras have already been perfect to capture what I truly see and not what I want to look at. I see window greens peppered with chrome, and associate my nausea from long provincial trips. I see tan with a blustery June day and neon blue with adolescence.

The sense of hearing would be optional as I like music and choreography, at least a mind dance. But not door bangs nor a malicious whisper coupled with a once-over.

The sense of taste and smell, if they'd be gone they should go together. And so both of them should be kept. The tang of vinegar on fish is not complete without the requisite jiggle on my columella nasi. And umami is still a universal mystery that can't be ignored.

I therefore conclude that I'd forego the sense of touch as I would not want an attempt on my personal bubble anyway. Maybe it came with childhood, an instinct for self-preservation. Poke me with a stick. Lay out the radio telescopes first. A bite on my side is a death sentence that would elicit giggles, and a range of emotions from letdown to cuteness, depending on who is biting.


People say it's my birthday today.

This entry was posted by sky, on Wednesday, August 03, 2005. You can leave your response.