this Solvency

So I've recently achieved a major milestone in my life: financial independence. This is, in my understanding, being able to pay for all my past credit, my immediate needs, and my future wants. Most people I believe will probably say, "There's nothing special in that. You just have to live within your means." But in my case, my prime directive in life is to maximize experience; and keeping to that personal mandate means spending a lot of cash all the time.

So this marriage of my philosophy and financial security is such an amazing feat for me. An extraordinary feat--by reason of it being completely impractical--that requires an extraordinary act: which is working in another country--which I did.

And now that I've achieved this previously impossible dream, I've been left to think, "What else is there to life?"

I mean, the challenge has been met, the day won, the prize seized. What is there left to chase after?

My dear friend and officemate, Flo, quaintly explains it in this manner: goals are just steps. Once you reach a goal, it is the human tendency, no, prerogative, to move to the next. Dreams are something you imagine, do, and eventually replace.

So now that I'm here, I am satisfied. And since satisfaction is a completely different concept from happiness, I've still got a ways to go.

So I've been enriching my life, by joining clubs and groups and communities. I've participated in volunteer work, concerts, religious fellowship, drunk revery, bbqs, random little things that happen in the course of life. I've said yes to every opportunity, never said "No" to any invitation, pursued any and all possible avenues for experience, exposure and excitement with an open mind.

And after all that, I can safely say I know what I want in life. Or, to better define it, I have found the proof that asserts what I've yearned for all along.

And in a way, I think that, compared to being able to pay for your own rent, knowing what you want in life is the most empowering thing you can ever discover about yourself. I hope you find it, too. Because life is a long road, and though the trip may be fun, nothing else fills you with confidence and self-assurance than knowing that unwavering truth of where you're going. The joy may be in the journey, but if you're lucky, knowing the destination will fill you with ease and simplify everything.

I know where I'm going: a house on the edge of the sea, watching the beautiful vista as I feebly, but steadily, chase the words that could capture the magic of a sunset shimmering into dusk on the infinite horizon. 3 years in, I feel like it won't be too long 'til I get there.

illusions of grandeur

In my youth, I sought solace in my writing. It's how I ask questions. And somehow, without finding any answers, writing brings me closure; the act is enough. Because the world is much too strange a place to leave unthought of, and I question it all the time.

In the same way, I question myself all the time. But the difference now is I've found an answer.

I ask why I work so hard? Why do I stoop so low for other people? Why am I so driven in entrusted things, in requests, in instructions, in commands, propelled forward by an arrangement of friends, family and frequented fellows? And yet when it comes to personal pursuits, the hearth of my heart is chilled, the fire is stifled, and I find myself too tired to venture out the door, why?

I remember, again in my youth, that my mother would always whisper to me, "You can do anything, achieve anything." On the last night before the declamation competition, in between my sobbing and ineffective attempts to remember Carlos P. Romulo's lines, my mom would tell me I could do anything if I put my mind to it. When I got the letter of acceptance from the premier college I hoped for, and I told her. She would smile a quaint smile, and, as if I questioned the thought, answer me, "You can do anything, just work hard."

And her words over the years have settled upon my body, and seeped into soul. It is this ever-present encouragement that rings in my ears, that flares through my synapses, that pulls taught the very sinew of my muscles.

It is she that empowers me: Pride. I carry within me a surging pride in my capability, in the scope of my responsibility, in my self. I believe that I'll always pull-through somehow. But beyond belief, I realize, it is she who defines most of my motives.

For one, I am excessively humble. This is only because I find it demeaning to speak of my own accomplishments when success itself has a voice--a voice that carries. So I am intentionally humble, because I am consciously proud.

For another, I am a perfectionist. Since, to me, my work, my own creation wrought with my own hands, is an extension of who I am; it is my signature, and therefore, cannot and must not be imperfect. I've become a conscientious employee, in effect, and it has been a fruitful affliction.

I also forgive easily and rarely lose my temper. Through the lenses of my pride, I see all mistakes as flaws of character. And being of greater character, it is only right for me to be benevolent and kind. To lend out a hand, instead of using the back of my hand.

It is also the reason for my inability to say no. Since I can do anything, I am unlimited. And though this does leave a tendency for abuse and I am left exhausted, I always feel a sense of accomplishment for having fulfilled the request, and earn an ever greater respect for my own inhuman tenacity.

The last result of my pride is my brutal honesty. The manner I speak of my everyday life, the way I keep racy wallpapers on my phone, the method of how I parade my mistakes without hesitation, is mostly because I am proud to do them. I am true because I am never ashamed.

And it is this frankness that allows me to write so forcefully, I think, and now allows me to disarm her. She, my pride, wears many masks: kindness, patience, diligence, compassion, strength. And throughout my life, she's led me far and yet I've never seen her face. I see her now, and my ever-wondering has been replaced with sheer wonderment.