One of my friends, who is also based in the Gulf, has been ribbing me about the nature of my recent posts and my unnecessary preoccupation with an infatuation bordering on teenage puppy love. You can bet that that piece of foolishness serves its own purpose.
Oft-times, I reflect on the relevance of my own life and what the future bodes for me. I’d like to think that my life is proceeding on some sort of plan, some sort of central theme that would define my life when my time has come. That I do one particular thing should be indicative of the kind of value I would like to give.
I am under no illusions that I will be doing earth-shaking, now far removed from the days of my youth when such things seemed possible. Funny, when one is young one would love to conquer the whole world; a few years of perspective later, one would simply be content with a patch to call one’s own.
I also see clearly that the tenor of my life would not change even if I were to find someone in the near future and finally settle down. The focus may change, the perceived end-products may be different, but I’m sure it wouldn’t be drastically different. Instead of diffusing my passions all over the place, they would be centered on my own family.
Will my attaining my image of romantic love serve as a life-changer? Perhaps. I do hope so. But if it doesn’t, what then?
I live. The world goes on. I trust I’d be living my life in pretty much the same way, and know that love waits for me when I come home. With my family, it’s not something I have won for myself, but that doesn’t make their love any less true. With my friends, it’s something that reflects what I have given --- and when I expect less or nothing at all in return sometimes they surprise me.
So now, I’d rather admit to be alive and frivolous, rather than numb and serious. I may protest loudly and rail against being left behind. It may sound tawdry and may prove to be tedious for some, but it’s not their call anyway. It’s mine.
Sure, I'd wax poetic and cry, apparently, over seemingly trivial things in this world. I'd wear my heart out on my sleeve and hope that what I'm sharing will help someone realize his or her own life lessons.
The alternatives? Stay in my room and despair over the apparent end of the world? Rapture, indeed, say the TV evangelists. Else be bound to the demands of my job which will neither give me an award for my efforts nor miss me when I am gone?
It's a no-brainer, baby! Mine thinking to protest much more, I daresay.
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Some random thoughts . . .
Is it me or is our Internet service getting slower and slower? Getting harder to post!
Ugh! I haven't written in Filipino so long I've become constipated in the language. Have to do something about that, hmmm... Thanks to Mals for her short comment.
It's the hot and humid time of the year in the Dammam area and it isn't too much fun to go out. Most fellows though who have notions of losing weight say this is the best time for exercise. However, the reduced oxygen and increased moisture in the air can do bad things for you. One of our senior colleagues thought to play a little tennis during this time of the year. The guy suffered a mild stroke, and he got away lightly, I would say. Sans air conditioning, it is likely people will drop like flies in the heat.
We're back to rehearsing my second directorial job, Manuel Buising's "Tumbampreso" (Palanca First Prize Winner for One-Act Play in Filipino, 1988). It's good to get going on this again. Still struggling with the translation of the title for our marketing campaign though. Is it "Hit the Can" (in the mechanics of the game), "Drop the Target" (again more on the mechanics), or "Bowl for Prisoners" (theme of the play, but I'll give the story away)? Whatever. It will come to me. Soon.