Monday night questions*

Met with friends tonight. One of us is getting married and wanted to meet up to distribute invites. The conversation started very benign. We wondered where batchmates were and teased one another about the ominous cloud called the 30s. Then we turned to the classic and perennially disturbing question: Are you where you wanted to be, 15 years after high school?

The answer was unanimous and somber: No.

No, for me, because I didn't really know what I wanted to be when I was 15. I only knew what I didn't want to be (a lawyer).

I realized what my calling was when I entered grad school. Before then, I only had a vague idea of what I wanted to happen, not for myself but for the world, or at least my country. Yup, it was that grand.

It still is. But now...where am I now? (This was getting to be a tough discussion for a Monday night at Starbucks.)

The answer is, I don't know. Not really. I do know that I have many unfilled dreams. Goals that are still unmet. Sometimes I feel a sense of panic thinking about them. I want to do so many things, and I have little patience and an increasingly short attention span. I have phases that run as quick as one week; other times I develop an obsession that goes on for months, and then fizzles out when something else commands my attention. Like right now, I'm bored with this topic and want to move on.

Flighty, inattentive, irresponsible, childish, indecisive, unfocused, fickle-minded, capricious, unstable. That's what I am. I'm still trying to find where that got me after 15 years.

*written July 9, 2012

Wounded at Sea

I wasn't ready to publish this then. I don't know if I'm ready now, but here goes.

***

25 Feb 2012.

My dog has died. My beloved dalmatian, with those hauntingly beautiful, searching eyes. Sometimes blue, sometimes white with a glint of red. Whatever the color, she looks at you the same: like a human trapped in a dog's body.

I cry from Manila to Dumaguete, knowing full well that her death is my doing. I call the vet before she is put to sleep. I try to say sorry: for not coming home as often as I used to, for not minding that she slept in the terrace instead of in the living room; for allowing the little dogs to bully her; for not standing up for her, for not being there when she needed me most.

In the days leading up to her death I avoided looking at her, for fear that she would see the guilt in my eyes. Now I wish I had looked, in the hope that she could forgive me.

I end the call because I could not get any of the words out. I text my mother so she could tell Frap that I love her. Then she is gone.
***

Water splashes about and sprays everyone in the pump boat. I welcome the onslaught, happy that I could no longer tell the difference between the sea and my tears.

I look at the horizon and the expansive blue, and, for a second, feel peace within me. Truly, I am a child of the sea. This is my home.

I promise to remember this moment, to make it a memory. One about the celebration of life, in its grandeur and simplicity. This moment is for Frap.

***
Waves crash violently on the banca, and Mark bellows. Why are you screaming? I ask. The waves are very strong, he says. Well, that's life, I tell him.

That's life.

Life is given. Life is taken away. Right now I am the mercy of the sea. The only thing that separates me from certain death is this 3 meter banca and a flimsy orange vest. I could die anytime.

Somehow this gives me assurance, however false, that things will be okay. That my world is as it should be, that there is no room for doubt. With Frap, with everything.

We reach the marine sanctuary, or whatever is left of it. Typhoon Sendong swept away everything. Everything -- corals, fish, all of life. All that's left are sediments brought in by strong currents. 20 years worth of community work, hundreds of volunteers including guests that kindly helped out over the years, all of the love and care--gone.

Life is given. Life is taken away.

There is a tremendous feeling of loss. Like your heart has been yanked and thrown away, and the void that's left behind is immeasurable. There is nothing in that space but pain, longing, regret.

The waves are getting bigger and the boat moves in silent rhythm with the sea. I submit to this perfection with humility, gratitude, and awe. When everything is in constant motion, unsure, there is nothing left to feel but this.

I can't see the destination yet, but I know everything will be okay.
***
We meet Liberty, owner of Liberty's Lodge, barangay captain, and pioneer of the community-based marine conservation effort on the island. She has just met with the Silliman University, which jointly supervises the conservation effort. How will you recover or rebuild the lost sanctuary? I ask.

The university advises us to just let it be, she says, until things return to normal.

How long will that take?

40 years.

***
Time heals all wounds. I look back at all the wounds of my past, and I'm not so sure. But I have no choice but plod on, crawl or swim neck deep if I must.

Then try to rebuild.

I don't know when - when Time finally permits - but maybe the next time Liberty and I see each other, we will both be healed.

Damsel in distress

Conflicted. I'm still trying to figure things out, particularly what the subject of conflict is. I don't know why I don't know.

I suppose I know.

What weighs more: fighting for what you know to be true, your belief, your reality -- or your responsibility for another person's feelings, particularly as they fight for their truth, their belief, their reality?

The conflict is borne of the fact that your truths don't match.

It's not so bad, if you were only friends. Friends disagree all the time about what they want and don't want in their lives. But what if your life is his life, and vice versa?

In preserving someone because they are fragile, you expose your own vulnerability. Then you realize that you, too, need saving.

Because it could actually be true: giving someone life can lead to your own (slow) death.

muni-muni

I got what I wanted, finally. What I waited for, for a very long time.

I’ve just been transferred to a position that gives due respect to the professional title I hold: environmental planner. I should feel happy and, after years of unending patience, maybe even vindicated.

But honestly, I can't say that I’m satisfied.

I wanted this, yes – three years ago. Things change in three years. The deepest shift being this: in my heart I know that it’s no longer my dream to be employed by an international firm with “pedigree” and a long history of success that I can count on; to stay here until retirement; to find professional pride and fulfilment in being one of the many wheels that keep this train chugging along.

Not that there’s anything wrong with it. Many people would love to do what I do, for all the right reasons. I can’t judge. Some people I admire and look up to have worked for this company longer than I have been alive, and it doesn’t seem like they’re complaining.

But see, they’re not me.

Am I too proud to say that I have bigger dreams than that? I don’t think so. What I feel is the strong belief that it can be done.

I’ve asked myself over and over if I deserve that bigger dream. I’ve doubted myself countless times.

But I’m over all the doubting now. I know I can do it. Actually I am already doing it, working towards that vision, albeit in small doses. As time goes by I feel more and more responsible to make the dream grow, to give it life. I need to keep that commitment not just for myself, but for others, and for the deeper “why” that I hold closest to my heart.

My only question is timing.

How much longer can I wait? Financial responsibilities, monthly bills, family obligations that I haven’t even begun to meet… Realizing the dream means giving up stability, possibly losing money, probably depending on already overstretched parents, making other people worry about my welfare. Is it irresponsible to “run from safety” now?

Or is it irresponsible not to?

blues-y

I want to spend my birthday alone this year. By that I mean a lot of time away from family, friends, loved one. I will be a stranger among strangers, hiding away in anonymity (as if hahabulin ng paparazzi haha).

I think I need this – to feel a sense of independence, to know for sure that I can be who I am without the usual people around me. To be honest, I’ve been craving for this for years. This desire to break away. I get it at random moments. I vividly remember a time when I was sitting in a jeepney on Buendia, and I wanted to literally fly through the window and just go far, far away. Of course I was stuck between office workers and men in sando until I alighted in front of RCBC, but I will never forget that feeling. That was me, on a cliff, wanting desperately – excitedly – to fly off the edge.

It's not that I'm unhappy. I actually find it hard to accept that at almost 27 years old and nearly married, I’m still looking for that part of myself that the universe hasn’t bestowed on me yet. I'm already so blessed, what is there to pine for? But I think I have to face the fact that the search for myself isn't over. I think I have to live with it, and keep moving forward.

these dreams

I had a dream last night, about J. Or I think that’s who it was, because it didn’t really look like him. But I know what I felt: “this is my ex.” Maybe the guy in the dream was a consolidation of all my past…men. Except that I only had one official past, and the others were just figments of my overactive imagination. But still.

I digress. It was a strange dream, like all dreams I have about my past in general (and there are quite a few).

We were in a public place. A bar? A party? Maybe. There were friends around. M was there, too, but on the other side of the room. Meanwhile, J sat across from me at a counter. So yeah maybe this was at a bar. Which is weird because I haven’t been to one in very a long time.

We were talking, and I felt like he was a friend. Completely benign. Completely genuine. And like friends who are close to you, he held my hand while we were talking.

I didn’t think anything of it until it was pointed out to me by another person in the group. I thought, “what’s the big deal?”

I retracted my hand anyway.

The next scene found me in a separate room (still at the party?) with M. Only he didn’t look exactly like M, but sort of him plus Rob that cutie guy from the current season Pinoy Big Brother. But I knew it was him and I knew we were okay.

Then I woke up.

I’m not sure what it means. I’ve just about given up trying to explain my dreams. I never really get anywhere. I just know that my sanity, reason, morality and basic sense go flying out the window every time.

Or maybe I should just stop watching PBB.

***
In other news, absence does make the heart grow fonder. I missed blogspot!

pathways

One more time (sorry Blogger, I've been neglecting you):

Pathways.

the best way to learn is to teach.

What a week this has been. To think it's only Wednesday.

Deadlines and missed deadlines, unexpected meetings, absences, doctor's visit, laaaaaaaaaate nights.

PLUS...I gave my first ever academic (?) lecture a couple of days ago. Yep. Me. Together with two colleagues, I've been asked to give a short (uber mega condensed) course on urban and regional planning to a group of architects. The very first lecture was one of the most nerve-wracking, stressful things I have ever done. It did not help that those architects are Mark's officemates. Talk about pressure.

But this -- teaching,  that is -- is unequivocally also one of the most fulfilling endeavors I have ever undertaken.  I've always (and often secretly) wanted to be a teacher. The problem was that I have always been the shy one, which everybody mistook for snobbish, sorry. I did try out, once upon a naive time, but I failed miserably because I could not get my words out.  

Years later, I'm finding out how...easy it could be. Not a walk in a park, to be sure, just easy in the sense that it could come so naturally. I'm actually surprised, because sometimes at home I can't even get a word in edgewise -- especially with mama! Tonight was Lecture/Module 2, and it took a bit longer to finish (Planning Theory, what do you expect?),  but I'm getting and more comfortable. Can't wait for the next one.

Len's right, it's like a drug. One of the best parts is thinking of ways to make the sessions interesting and fun.  That and seeing people engaged in discussion, participating, learning from one another. I really think that I thrive in an environment of constant learning, so to be able to facilitate that kind of activity is heaven for me.

If the universe permits, I would love to be able to do this for the rest of my life. Hear me out, U. :)