Numbers trick

I lost communication to the outside world for eight hours today as I left my mobile on the messy desk this morning. The ten Arabic squiggles are the most powerful symbols in human life; it represents flesh in this electronic era. Phone, house, public transport, etc. are all stamped with numbers. Number is the first contacting point to most things. The tricky thing is, once we lose our trace or our memories to certain numbers, we are likely to lose our world. Things like today, I didn’t know what was going on outside my office windows until I rushed back home and grabbed my phone with missing messages and phone calls.

I was wounded all over after the two-day dance camp: a scratch on my face, bruise in the palm and a burnt mark on the finger tip. Apart from these misfortunes, the annual Melbourne-Monash dance camp was great fun. We danced ten hours in total over a one-night and a day period. I took two advance classes: swing and ball room Latin. Although I hadn’t touched swing for almost a year, I was still able to follow most of the steps, yet for ballroom, Irien from Monash taught us Tango! Opps! I believed most people in the class knew nothing of Tango as we all ended up in a big mess. The most delighted bit was the night’s progressive dance. We learnt the Monash group Cha, Melbourne group Jive and Waltz in Barbie Girl music. The camp finished off with a camp fire, in which marshmallow melted away softly and chicken winds were singed with wood ash.

Sunday was spent with family, which happened to be my cousin’s birthday and pre-mum’s arrival discussion. Sore legs are inevitable; colds from this pre-winter season might have also followed me all the way from Mt Evenlyn. I could feel the cold virus was spreading inside my body. My body trunk is strengthless, and tiredness is shown noticeably on my face. Given my poor health state, I still had to uphold my rest of energy to argue with my family members upon mum’s two-month stay in Melbourne. To be honest, I don’t want her to come. She can do nothing to help me recover better but make me even more tired and restless as she would not spend 3hr-return daily to come from my grandma’s house to my house. I will have to spend at least three weeks showing her where to shop and how to take bloody Melbourne public transport to my house.

At the moment, I desperately need more sleep and have a good rest. I am feeling my energy and spirit is draining out of my body to this tiresome family visit. Why my family always do this to me? On one hand they say they are doing good things for me, on the other hand they are cracking them and pushing more harm to me. My sickness is more or less comes from their pressure.