a Change in Scenery

An awesome fact about the new place is that there isn't really much to be said at all. This is entirely because I haven't spent the most of those 2 weeks at the office. This is amazing news.

But I still have to say something, before I lose that fresh perspective and novel insight afforded only to those who are in transition. Ehem, ehem.

The commute takes some getting used to. It's a far cry from the Makati shuttle I took at the last place, especially now that this new route requires a jeep, a bus, and an MRT ride to complete--plying Sucat road, SLEX and EDSA respectively. Those are 3 rides compared to the lazy 1 shuttle where I am of the habit of just dozing-off. Dozing-off on the road is not an option anymore. And it's especially difficult since I wake up at 5am now--plus I'm prone to purring noises. Mrrrrr.

Though the location bites, the place itself is a beaut-. It's a new office located at the 18th floor of the sleek, modern Hanston Square building along San Miguel Ave. This gifts wandering eyes with a commanding view of the Ortigas cityscape: Shangrila hotel and mall, Megamall, EDSA, and lately, various ants with umbrellas. Styled like traditional Japanese offices, rows of workspaces and 21inch LCD monitors run perpendicular to lofty windows facing west. And every evening, employees are bathed in orange hues as the sun slowly sets into the skyline.

The work-force has the option to revel in the aforementioned receding glow of dusk at the office or on their way home. The uber-flexitime system in place only enforces mandatory attendance from 11am-4pm, allowing the industrious to clock in as late and clock out as early as they like. And with no salary deductions at all as long as, of course, they fulfill the 80 hours before the bi-monthly payroll cut-off period. Hurrah for options, and hurray for convenience.

My only gripe then is the lack of male representation. 2/3 of the work-force are deployed in Japan and that includes most of the men from the office. Of the 20 people remaining, there are only 6 of us manly men to man the place.

Romantic pursuits may have to be postponed 'til touchdown in Japan, where I'll be sharing a flat with more men. Suffice to say, it's an arrangement that is not without promise.

XI. Acknowledgements

A finished task is common enough, the only marked difference is the effort expended. And most great tasks are defined by that effort, or the summation of efforts of all individuals involved. Recognized here:

To my parents, who paid for the tuition that would eventually fund this undertaking. That and for waking me up, feeding me, and taking me to school—as much as they possibly could, with all the patience in the world.

To my college friends, who made the length of days short and sweet.

To my high-school friends, who will always remind me of all that I can be, should be, and will be.

To Coach Gerry, whose impetus gave me strength.

To Joms, who reminded me not to tarry.

And to Myself, for following through—eventually.

Ad Interim

Tomorrow marks the 7th day, the end to the week long break from that side of me that pushed so hard to go places. That side of me that heeded to keenly the ticking clock of my transitory life. It felt good, not wearing that watch for a while.

And in that short span of time, I:

got plenty of hugs, found the courage to follow-up on those malicious 'intentions', got a picture instead, overloaded on rice, played the drums again and found my awkward beat, got drunk, sang, got drunk again;

overslept, asked someone out to a date, did something japanese, went to confirm I'm 'negative', confirmed I'm negative, got a hug, got a number, liked someone, went and watched something japanese, had a bag full of dark-chocolate covered malt-balls, went and watched something campy, stayed up late, laughed with friends, laughed with family, felt alive, read a book;

overslept, spent some quality time with the dog, got what needed doing done, gym-ed, danced 'til I was sweaty, was satisfied, went home, closed the door on someone's hand, avoided a lawsuit, read a book, wrote;

overslept, marathon-ed a tv series, felt embarrassed, felt alone, attempted to rediscover, attempted to reconnect, found some degree of quiet, found some resolution, found his friends, over-ate on dimsum, had a great time, loved his friends a little more;

slept, had a brief encounter with a needle, got checked-up by a doctor, flirted during the pre-medical exam, went all the way to Makati for really good ramen, loved it, learned the value of new friends, went home, dreamed of New York, dreamed of better things.

In 7 days, I reconnected with old friends. I did not deny the wish of my good friends. I imposed on best friends. Is this what being alive is like? Maybe all there is to live for is the company of good friends. Pursuits, dreams, goals, they're all noble and practical. But who'll be there to celebrate and applaud when you've finished the race, when you've followed through. When you're finally up on stage, will you stand before an audience of one--your own vanity--and be happy?

Life is a collaboration. People each have separate routes to plot, and I believe that the impact, the collisions of these trails produce all the beauty life has to offer. All the things I know and love have gained that place because they have touched my heart in an unexpected way. It's in the unscripted that I found sincerity; in the unpredictable, passion. I think it's time to talk to strangers, to be guided by the wind, and to consult with the stars.

Oh, and I found some great music. Little by little, it's starting to feel like it all makes sense again.

the Quiet, the Desperate

We went up a volcano the other day. Mt. Pinatubo was the site for some horrific tales and lives changed forever. And we went there for a day trip. It was an awesome way to get in touch with nature, they said. It was a bargain, too.

So we went, set aside a Saturday to get in touch with something primordial, fancy cameras and fast-food in tow. It was majestic. It was humbling. We discovered and experienced those 8 hours through the very soles of our feet as we eked our way through the meandering fissure where the volcanic ash rushed years ago.

The hike demanded much, but it also rewarded plenty. I stopped at every river, ankle-deep in the cool mountain stream, staring at the height of the ravine walls. I let my eyes trace every crack, the shaded instability, the precarious balance that held up the sides of the route. We had to. The guide warned us not to stand too near, or speak too loud. It wouldn't take much to change the landscape here.

And that's why it was quiet. It had to be. This is nature. Nature's way is to wait and bide its time. The stream that flowed around my feet was probably a stream that flowed ages ago. And it had this ravine to show for it. It had been busy, cajoling the earth every day to give up a little more of itself, to succumb, topple over, and get washed away into the ocean.

This was what we found in Mt. Pinatubo. Most of our group were from Makati, who worked in Makati. The dreary place I'll be leaving soon. We ran away from that desolate place to find this new one. There's not much difference here. Each hard working soul is represented by a crag, a shifting wall here along the trail. Worn, cracked, constantly oppressed and yet still standing resolute.

This is the quiet desperation of Makati made real. What I thought as a collective emptiness wasn't empty at all. It was instead a roiling consciousness hidden among snappy suits and proper dresses. The glazed eyes were worn not by the forsaken multitudes, it was borne wearily by the bold many who chose the ordeal, who held on. And knowing your fate, the choosing of it, changes the story. The landscape has changed, it is now a story of perseverance and fortitude.

My chapter has ended for now. I am the rock face that gave out, that toppled, and whose collective parts will be carried many a league into the distance. I am forever changed by meeting this river that has run its course for centuries. The wall, having lost its excess, its weaknesses, is stronger, stable. A little closer to its real form. A few jagged pieces shy of the truth. It will continue to bear the course of the river, and will some day once again be rent asunder, and still never relent.

This is my new chapter, of courage and a different kind of tenacity. The strength to hold on to what matters, and let the rest flow away. The river rushes through me, it cools the fire that burns and sates the thirst that grows.