Home stretch

The all-too-brief holiday weekend is over and it’s time to kick off another workweek. I didn’t really want to go back to work just yet (it was perhaps a horrible idea to decide to try to get into Oblivion again when I know I won’t really have time to play and in any case will be leaving the country and my gaming desktop behind in a week or so).

I should cheer myself up with some happy music, some happy thoughts. As ever though, it’s quite a struggle against my natural melancholy inclinations (I suppose that makes it sound less pathetic than it actually is), and the composition of my music library isn’t helping at all. (That seems like a worthwhile New Year project: liven up and diversify my music!)

I think it’s partly barely having had any vacation time or time off this whole month I’ve been home, and partly that this interlude is ending soon and I’ll be heading back to Singapore to live and work there once more. I can’t say that the prospect isn’t exciting -- getting my time to myself again, being in the First World, having a room to myself, not having to commute -- but at the same time I suppose I’m beginning to realize that there are a lot of things about being back home that I’ll miss: home-cooked food, being around the family (despite the persistent distance), being around the few friends I have left in the country, the places and people I bump into on my daily routine here, and the basic familiarity of the language, the culture, how everything looks and sounds and feels.

At the same time, I also feel as if I wasted this opportunity to reconsider and re-evaluate the course of my life. In a week or two I’ll once again be swept out of the country and back into the life I’ve been leading for the past year. This more-than-a-month-long sojourn should’ve provided me with some time to get much-needed perspective and finally do the thinking I feel I’ve been putting off for too long, but, well, it hasn’t seemed to yet.

Just a general update.

So, it's been a pretty crazy December so far, and I can't really believe that it's about to be over soon. I've been back in the country for almost three weeks now, yet I haven't really been doing much apart from getting buried in work.


It's been gratifying, sure, but the constant pressure and stress isn't doing any wonders for my already precarious mental well-being. Okay, being overly dramatic aside, I haven't really been able to settle down and have a good long think about all the things I've been meaning to have a good long think about.






My routine has mostly been: wake up when I wake up (usually just a few hours before lunch time), go out to have coffee and read or listen to music somewhere, then take a cab to work. Work until late (staying and sleeping over if necessary, though now there isn't an extra room to crash in so I've actually only done this once), then go home and turn off my brain and relax until I fall asleep. Rinse and repeat.






I notice that I've been rather free with my money since I got back. Not to a crazy extent, I don't think, but when I stop to think about it I do feel small pangs of guilt. (But I get over it.)






I don't feel entitled to go on for much longer about my own petty problems in the light of the recent flashflooding disaster in Cagayan de Oro and Iligan. This is going to accomplish nothing, not even assuage my throbbing conscience (I have one?), but here's a pretty useful list of ways to donate and help out: http://www.nowpinoy.com/typhoon-sendong-how-to-help/

(A more socially-minded and knowledgeable person would take this opportunity to talk about the environmental issues that caused the flooding, and perhaps suggest ways to improve the state of our disaster prevention, warning, and relief infrastructure. Just saying.)






Alright, regardless of the fact that this is my blog and I can write anything I want, I think I shall still resist segueing into another round of bootless introspection and personal woe-tallying. Life goes on.

Back in the Philippines

So, I've been back in the motherland for almost a week now, and I still haven't gotten into a good routine. I'm not used to having to factor in commute time when considering things such as what time to wake up and what time to start working (not to mention the experience of commuting and taking public transportation here again).


Haven't even visited all the old haunts yet - have yet to hang out at UP. Did spend a delicious, lazy, gluttonous weekend in Bulacan for a thanksgiving-type fiesta last weekend (lechon! kakanin! utter idleness!). 


Haven't met up with anybody yet. I am friendless and aloof. Or just lazy.


Glad to finally have woken up early today, at least, though it was really a fluke more than anything intentional. Maybe today's the day I can start a productive routine again. (Or I could take this morning time and spend it finishing Snow Crash in UP, the weather seems nice and cool...)

Presents

I've never been the gift-giving type. I never know what to give people, and even though I sometimes get the urge to do so, I hesitate because it seems like it would somehow be unfair if I started giving gifts only selectively, but then it seems overwhelming to have to think of giving gifts even just to my very small circle of family, friends, and acquaintances.


Perhaps I'm just too prematurely self-conscious about it, fearing that recipients wouldn't like whatever I get them, and that this would just make them hate or pity me all the more (if they don't already thoroughly loathe me, but then again, I suppose I really wouldn't be giving gifts to those people now, would I?).


It's December, and Christmas is just around the corner, and I'm not yet sure if I'm getting anyone anything. On the other hand, maybe I can guilt myself into finally getting over my stupid fear by thinking of all that I've received over the years, and how now it's time to give back. Hmm, no, not working.

Keng Wah Sung

One of the things I miss the most about being home is having a room to myself, a private space where I can be alone whenever I want to be. Which, as it happens, is usually most of the time. I'm an introvert through and through.


Here at the SG office I share a room with two officemates and while I have no complaints about this arrangement (the room is more than big enough for the three of us, what with a relatively spacious loft, and there's even an extra bed up there), it does mean that I have no such sanctuary. My desk does feel private enough, and there is some sense of ownership and belonging there, but at the same time, it feels 


I found this private space in Keng Wah Sung, a nearby mom-and-pop cafe (kopitiam, I believe, in the local parlance). Along with strong black coffee (kopi o kosong, no milk, no sugar), kaya butter toast, and soft-boiled eggs. No wonder I quickly became a regular.


There's something innately comforting about seeing the same people everyday, even if you don't really talk or interact, even if your lives remain mostly disjoint, or touch only superficially. I go there, I buy coffee and read or write. Sometimes at night I would change my beverage to one or two bottles of Tiger, and sometimes I'd also buy some sticks of satay from the people who set up nearby (only in the evenings). If they didn't close on Sundays, I'd probably be there at least once every damn day!


Needless to say, I'm going to miss that place when we finally move out of this unit that's much too big for us. I could always come visit on weekends, but it won't be the same, I won't have the luxury of just stumbling there from the house, still unwashed and bleary. Ah, well, I don't know whether I should just be happy that, at least so far, I haven't yet been able to really settle in and call this place home (I know, I'm slow, it's been almost a year!). The move, though it's still going to be a big hassle probably, will at least not be as uprooting as it could've been. (Then again, this is a tiny country...)

This whole telling people about myself business...

...still sits more than a little uncomfortably with me. This is in no way just an excuse for laziness and mis-scheduling on my part, such that now I have no time to work on an actual entry for today. Not entirely, anyway. (I have less than an hour to come up with something.)


As a child and as I was growing up, I barely had any friends. Now, as you might imagine, this did tend to make me rather sad at times, and even up to now when my mind alights on the subject it can get pretty melancholy. I don't think it's surprising at all for a shy, withdrawn, chubby kid to keep to himself, and at times feel horribly maladjusted and unfit for society.


I kept this all to myself as I simply sat inside my own head, firm in the conviction that even if I had someone to tell, they wouldn't really understand, anyway. Perhaps at first I drew some little consolation in this perceived unfathomableness, but soon enough I grew to think that it was my own damn fault for being somehow defective, somehow not quite as suited as the average person to the average life by 


You've heard this story before, I'm sure. I found solace in the solitary pleasures of reading (and for stretches in high school and during college, of trying to write and keep up a blog), and never got close to anyone even though a part of me must have always kept yearning for this so-called friendship so thought highly of by normal society, i.e., the people who actually had it.


Now I'm a little older, a little more experienced, and I wouldn't be so quick to label myself friendless. Even if I do still feel a little socially and emotionally stunted, clueless and clumsy (oh boy, the things my clumsiness have led me into and out of, but those are stories for another time), and not at home in the world of men, more and more I'm beginning to (finally) convince myself that this isn't a hopeless state of affairs: I'm young, the world is big, and I have time yet to grow into the life I want to be living.

Keeping on keeping on

Finally got myself back on the treadmill this afternoon, after many weeks of inactivity. Who needs nicotine when endorphins are more readily available, and, even better, free? (Sigh, I wish I could say that with as much conviction as it deserves. I don't think my future looks too good, since we'll be flying back home soon, to that magical land of cheap booze and cigarettes, oh, and friends to enjoy them with, right, that's important too.)


While I was actually in the moment of exerting myself and trying to pull just a little more energy to run just a little bit further, it hit me: isn't this just what it takes to get anywhere in life, and to develop any skill or aspect of oneself? Yes, yes, to be sure, I was tired and endorphin-addled and much too proud of myself for breaking a sweat, but even now, calmer and cooled down, I think there's a lot of truth to that realization.


A truth, mind you, that isn't always as convincing as it is when it manifests itself in such a straightforward manner and in a simple situation. Keep running, gradually increase your pace or duration or distance, and you'll grow better at it. Simple, no two ways about it. (Well, maybe I do simplify a bit too much, since there is of course the problem of hydration and the dangers of overtraining and possible injury, but the fundamental concept is still one of progressive improvement, right? And that improvement can be measured quite precisely and unquestionably.)


Unfortunately with most other things there are many orders of magnitude more factors to consider, and it isn't always easy to see through all the perceived obstacles and reasons for hesitation to the fact that's still there, behind everything. Just keep on keeping on (hopefully of course learning and enjoying yourself as you go).