25 years old.
No degree, no nothing. I know this isn’t true but it’s hard to be in a Fil-Chi family with the matriarch still around.
A matriarch who offers to pay for your college education but takes it back because “photography won’t get you anywhere.” and she’d prefer me to be an “abugago” instead. Well then, that well just ran dry. I think it’s an imposition to get my parents to pay for my schooling at this time since I’ve actually been working in the family company for almost five years now.
The only thing keeping me sane is photography and writing; sadly, that isn’t really saying much. I’m currently in the midst of a seven day stand with me sleeping 1-2 hours per day. I’ve had a total of 9 hours sleep in the past week. So, out of the past 168 hours, only nine were used for recovery. Cat naps here and there, in the car, random lulls, during the radio coverage of the Pacquiao/Clottey match. This is getting serious and it won’t be very long until my body shuts down to hibernate. It doesn’t help that I’m not thinking as straight as I would like.
after a few weeks of not writing, this felt good.
I don’t do my blog justice. I’ve tried many, many things to keep me creative and very few of them work. It doesn’t work because I keep trying to force an order onto myself. In my heart, I’m a nomad. I can’t just stay put no matter how easy or convenient it is for me. I can’t be complacent because I just end up dead in the water with nothing actually relevant to do. I’ve never had any real structure in my life, I play everyday by ear, making plans as the day progresses. The way I live my life is the same way I should write, haphazardly, with the words spilling out of my brain and finding their way onto the paper and keypad.
I’m not saying that convenience and having a place to rest my head on at the end of the day is bad. It’s just that when I settle into a rhythm I usually find myself turning sedentary and this is what kills me. I miss walking along Ortigas and reaching Shangri-la(something which I can’t do without busting my knees now) and then walking back(or taking a jeep) along Shaw. It’s days like these that I wish I had an ACTUAL job that required moving around.
I actually miss the World Youth Days when I get to thinking like this. Even though I’ve told myself that I’m never going on another one I have to admit that the prospect of living in hostels/hotels/motels while moving around in buses and trains appeals to me, never mind the constant prayer, mass everyday and the squawking of a RAVEN MAN. Hiking would be good too, did you know hiking is a sport? Seriously, long distance cross country hiking is an honest-to-goodness sport somewhere. A friend told me that hikers get the best photos, they just need to have a camera with them, that is SO attractive to me.
Touring Europe has no pull for me, I’m too biased. I’ll end up in Chipiona or Seville to visit my sister and her family or in Rome to visit the Lanzanis. What I want to do is wander, and that is NEVER advised. I can’t just go on some “spirit quest” to find myself now, I’m five years too late. At most I have the random outings with friends to see places in MY OWN country that I’ve never been to. Each and every time, my mind gets blown apart. I’m suggesting Anawangin for next, the sunsets are said to be some of the best in the WORLD.
I’m glad I got to buckle down and write for once. Really writing is a joy. There’s a reason I carry a notebook with me at all times and it’s not to look cool.