There were choices made and actions taken that may not be particularly aligned with the kind of life we have dreamed about because of various reasons that made us push through with certain resolutions. We make these decisions that may seem so solid at one point but when something goes off-kilter, we start questioning the soundness of the actions we undertook so far. Emotional and or career dilemmas, mid-life crisis or whatever it is you may call it, it’s not something one would look forward to at any point in his or her life.
A CABIN in the hills. Seven dogs. Five kids. A loving husband who won’t mind all the dog hair. Writing a book that’s probably never going to be published. I see this as a good life, my kind of good life. I never dreamt of something much more glamorous. (Yes. I still don’t discount my 50 Musts Before 50 as the items listed therein are similarly not as outlandish.)So now I’m asking myself why I’m so far away from those hills I call home. And it’s not the first time.
There were choices made and actions taken that may not be particularly aligned with the kind of life we have dreamed about because of various reasons that made us push through with certain resolutions. We make these decisions that may seem so solid at one point but when something goes off-kilter, we start questioning the soundness of the actions we undertook so far. Emotional and or career dilemmas, mid-life crisis or whatever it is you may call it, it’s not something one would look forward to at any point in his or her life.
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I CAN name a few places that I’m scared of -- sinister alleys, swamps, abandoned buildings and a new addition to the list, is that fitting room in a clothes shop. That bright cramped room with mirrors all around made me see something that was close to horrific (rolls eyes).
I never count calories and I’m not that conscious with my weight, I pack up on pounds easily and this never worries me. I smirk at girls who eat half a cup of rice (as proving I can do with three). I raise my eyebrows at women who are uberly figure conscious. In short, I was never a fan of the-next-top-model genre of any sort. NO MATTER how strong and tough a woman can be, I still believe there is always that little girl inside of us whose greatest fear is to be disrespected and harassed.
Several drastic incidents I have heard from friends and personally experienced made me want to put on this superwoman cape and be Little Miss Vigilant; patrolling the streets and brutally castrating these shameless retards who crowd public spaces. But who am I kidding? What could my defenses be against the supposed more superior sex, at least in reference to physical capabilities. Street harassment, either verbal of physical, is shockingly commonplace. Middle Eastern countries specifically have been battling and campaigning against sexual harassment as such cases are reaching epidemic proportions. So rampant are the incidents that for a lot of women, they haplessly accept it as a daily fact of life. IT HAUNTS and it leaves us hollow. It’s mischievous and capricious. Death is a trickster.
The sudden loss of a loved one propels all these questions. Questions which we don’t have satisfactory answers to, just fragments of conciliatory thoughts and self-made reasons to hopefully appease our grieving souls. Fate had always been unpredictable, and often cruel. Death, though inevitable, is a phenomenon which we don’t unhesitatingly yield to. And it’s especially difficult when it strikes the young and healthy. We have somehow ascribed death to favor only the aged and the weak. But death, being the trickster that is, unfortunately doesn’t play with rules. Much as we like to roundhouse kick death’s sinister face and tell it to come back when we’re ready, things are just not played out like that. When it’s one’s time, it will be his or her time, no matter how heart-wrenching this is for us. NOT so long ago, I came up with this bucket list of some sort. Fifty significant things I must accomplish before I reach half a century. What can I say? I was younger and more naïve, thus more idealistic. I had this printed and posted on an area in my room where I could look at it every day. Something to inspire me and get me through the humdrum, like a daily reminder that the seemingly mundane routine I undergo is but a step to be able to achieve these.
Today, I can but recall a dozen or so of the items listed there. The months passed and the list became a favorite spot of the notorious dust. I eventually shelved it; that sea of dreams which are now seemingly unattainable. FACEBOOK is so overrated. Shoot me.
But why do I stay online 24/7? Okay, that’s impossible as I probably need a couple or so hours answering nature’s calls and demands plus a day or two to catch up on what’s left of my social life. But then again I may have this pathetic social life that revolves only around Facebook (and so is yours probably, yes you). Point is, Facebook is king in terms of the race for user attention. Visit your Google stats and you’ll see the social network site’s utilization hiking through the years. And it’s inevitable. Zuckerberg’s a mad brainiac who knows the right points to tickle. The site’s a portal for all other sites—a microcosm of all the channels pertinent for social interactions. SO THIS writer decided to join the bandwagon of Filipinos who are on exodus to the ever illusive greener pasture and jumped at the opportunity to try her luck abroad. It was one of those impulsive but well-thought of decisions that this girl is notorious of doing (or so she'd like to think).
But the minute she got off the bus in the country's metropolitan, there was this huge part of her that wanted to board the next ride headed back to the mountains. She knew it was more or less saying goodbye to the comfort and security being offered by the mountain ranges which she had called home since time immemorial. Though she studied and worked in the urban for long periods of time, it was undeniable that she is a true-blue 'probinsyana'. Thus she knew that aside from the obvious truth of the 'there's no place like home' mantra, the next step she would take away from the terminal (which is seemingly the safest place as of the moment) would mean exposing herself to the alien world of unknown hazards and possible deathtraps. DISCLAIMER. I don’t pretend to be naïve on issues—that behind Sagada’s progressive rise as a prime tourist spot as it continues to live up to its nirvana image is the association of the place’s name to the infamous marijuana. I’m not writing this as a loyalist to my home. These are plainly the sentiments of someone who has seen more than some people who are quick to judge and go to the extent of dubbing our little Shangri-la as a local version of Amsterdam.
I, among countless other locals fume upon the mere mention of the village being known as a capital source of the drug (cannabis sativa). Idle talk, whether facts or tittle-tattle about the proliferation of the hemp in the locality is not alien to most of us. Even as a young kid back then, I’ve been hearing hushed stories about the drug’s scandalous existence here. I STARTED filling out this paper’s column when I worked as a creative writer for the University. My pieces then were mostly about campus issues and events. But when I got transferred to another office, I requested that I continue writing about everything and anything that might pique my fancy and interest, though not necessarily work-related. This was graciously granted by this paper’s editor so for more than two years already, I had a bit of space to call my own.
It was nice and fulfilling being able to write, not really minding that it might just be my mother who’s reading the things I blab about (come to think of it, I don’t believe she herself reads my pieces). But the fulfillment comes by not discounting the fact that there is an avenue for me to note and share my two cents and sentiments. WHAT better situation to put into satire than the Holy Week. It’s when we’re supposed to be religiously observing the sacraments of this solemn period and enjoying the long respite that comes with it, but end up experiencing the exact opposite instead.
For most of us, the Holy Week equates to a long holiday. It offers the long-awaited break to unwind so we unhesitatingly grab this opportunity to book tickets for the hottest destinations that are trending in our tourist meters. I too look forward to this week as this is one of the rare times that I can get to spend more than just a night back home. But past experiences have taught me to lower my expectations. Contrary to the general perception that this should be a time to relax far from the rigors of work, the Holy Week has officially become a Haggard Week in my personal vocabulary. |