I visited Inner Mongolia at the end of July to participate in a Robotics competition.
Aside from the sleepless nights, team huddled together in a hotel room with the scent of soldering and endless talking until the words seem to get so muffled and lost, unable to understand anything and everything – realizing we take language for granted — it was beautiful. Waking up every single day to a beating sun that reminded one of home only to be swept with a foreign breeze that was far too cold to be named familiar.
Normally, I would begin this with talking about exhaustion. My deflating belief in the world and everything within; every single moment, every single person, every single heart that roams across this planet. That is a lie, however. Beyond it all, there is always the underlying sense of the fact that: I know this world can do it. We are made of tearstains of fight, of the galaxies and beginnings, of lies and the end; but for now we will keep on living.
I am set to leave on a flight for a robotics competition in less than twelve hours. The airport anxiety never ceases to get to me — and the perplexing situation that I am in is further giving way to my unwaning fears. This is set to be for a robotics competition held in Inner Mongolia – an inner district in Ulanqab/Wulanchabu. Maybe it is how used I am to seeing information and details in the grasp of my hand within a few mere moments; but there is literally no information available towards this so called international open event when you google its name. Recalling the fact that literally of the information about this event was given to us through emails and haphazard word of mouth from the Philippine robotics organizers — I can’t help but to worry a bit.
As defined by the dictionary of obscure sorrows; exulansis is “the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it—whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness—which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story, until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.”
Exulansis is me finding reason in letting thoughts loose, never checking how they’re arranged, puzzling equations grasped together and intertwined; my mind is racing, never appeased and a constant. All is as it is.
