The Future Is Not Meant To Be Feared

Now that I think of it, I spent a great deal of 2012 being afraid. I started the year with anxiety over the possibility of not graduating on time. Then I graduated and spent the next three months worried about what kind of job I would have--and if I would have any, for that matter. But divine providence led me to a good job, which opened a whole new box of worries--mainly about whether I could do well and face up to each responsibility. This past week, I've been thinking about the future again, in terms of some personal matters. That didn't turn out so well, either.

As much as I hate to admit, I'm apparently more cowardly than I supposed. The habitual worrying, anxiety, and cynicism acquired over the years have all eventually concretized into a fearful, negative view of the future, which I often adopt under the guise of being a realist.

In hindsight, though, all those situations I spent so much time worrying about turned out to be the best experiences of the year. I gained so much knowledge and insight, met the most inspiring people, and even got to know myself a lot better. For those, I am immensely grateful; and this gratitude has helped me gain a new perspective.

Part of that perspective also serves as my mantra for the coming year: the future is not meant to be feared.

I know that the coming days and years will bring new challenges, surprises, and changes, and I'll probably still get nervous and excited about it. But I resolve to let faith and optimism reign in the place of anxious, cynical fear.

Hope is a wonderful thing, and aside from having more of it myself, I also wish I could inspire the same in other people. (Hey, I think I've just found my resolution.)

Cheers to the new year and the great things it will bring!

Photosynthesis

When you were younger and (impossibly) more self-centered, you whined like the world owed it to you to listen. Eventually you learned that happiness should be shared, and negativity, in all its nasty forms, should be shelved. Nobody loves a loser.

Dark Reaction

So you keep the bitter, the sad, and the angry in specimen jars and examine each of them in your spare time, always having to be careful so as not to end up trapped in those jars yourself. 

While you wish you could share them with someone, you almost never do, because you almost never can. Some miseries are simply inexplicable and are thus easier borne by one than by two.

Light Reaction

So you keep on, and remind yourself to smile and laugh about the good things, of which there are quite a lot. In those small moments, the universe is wonderful and everything glows in the light of an idyllic summer sun.

And that light is enough to fuel you, for today at least--and for tomorrow, and the day after that--until one morning you wake up and there's more light than dark. 

And that's how you know you've made it through, and can make it through again.

Bibliophilia

I should really write more. It seems like I'm always holding it off, waiting for that next drift of inspiration. On days like this one though, I remind myself that this blog isn't in the running for a Pulitzer, nor a Palanca--it's my personal blog, so maybe sharing more of my (not overly) personal thoughts wouldn't hurt.

In line with that, I have a realization to share!

That's basically it, sorry for wasting your time. If you found that boring, you can move along now. 

See, I like girls who like books. Almost--if not all--l of the crushes I've had like to read. My girlfriend goes through audiobooks and actual books like they're popcorn. Even my very minor crushes are/were apparently bookworms.

At first I thought it was just because reading is kind of an "in" thing now (my inner hipster slightly resents this), but my crushes are legit bookdorks. They're Lit majors, Booksale hunters, or polygamous readers; the type who'd spend an entire week's budget on books with (almost) no hesitation nor regret.

Maybe this is also due to the fact that I could never imagine myself with someone who doesn't read. That's like half a relationship's worth of conversation we'd be missing out on. And apparently, even for minor crushes, I'm attracted to something other than looks.

On a related note, J and I were at National in Glorietta 5 last Friday night (because bookstore dates are the best). We were talking about the Harry Potter chest set, which I said I wanted for my future kids. She asked "what if you have a kid who doesn't like to read?" to which I objected, since their hypothetical fetus will probably be listening to stories at the first sign of a heartbeat. 

Okay, enough about my hypothetical future bookworm offspring. My point is, literature really plays a big part--not just in my general life, but in my love life too. After all, I was in love with reading long before I was thinking about things like crushes. Also, words are sexy, and girls who read are hot.

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I haven't written such a light post in a while. It feels good to give this blog a break from all the angst!

Ex Post Facto

Somewhere, someone is reading your words and thinking about you. Words are tricky little things--like pieces of skin you can shed and leave lying around. Weeks, months, or years later, you come back to find the molted words and marvel at how something can still be you and yet be so detached from your current self.

Somewhere, someone is steadily growing enamored with you your words, without realizing the pointlessness of pining for something that someone has long left behind. What kind of fool falls in love with snakeskin? And yet that someone reads on, treading carefully so as not to disturb, trying intently to piece the hazy fragments together into something closely resembling you--or at least a shell of who you were.

Somewhere, someone is going through the cycle of your thoughts and emotions, and wishing they'd been able to do something about it. Like anyone could ever keep snakes from shedding, or keep autumn leaves on trees. What's done is done, and someone who has changed is harder to bring back than someone who has simply gone. They fail to see that displacement is most often replacement, too. Snakeskin, autumn leaves--lizard tails, even. It's less rocket science and more 2nd-grade biology.

To be more precise about things, then: somewhere, someone is thinking about who you were, holding on to your snakeskin words--not wanting to bring you back, but simply hoping to be led to where you are now.

Atelophobia

Thank you for your compliment. My brain is currently experiencing a self-esteem error, and kind words cannot be processed at this time. Your kindness has been archived for future consideration.

Hang Time

Because for some reason I like finding themes in things, the current theme of my life is this: hang time.

My previous inspiration post worked; I've finally made it out of college. I spent some weeks recuperating from my final, dazed days as a university student. (The first weeks after I had passed my thesis, I woke up almost every morning with a start, preparing to rush to school and submit my revisions. They say it takes 28 days to make or break a habit; I was working on that research for 10 months.) Then I spent some days in Bicol with my family. When we got back to Manila, I started the hunt.

Basically it's just been 3 weeks since I seriously started looking for a job, but oh, what impatience. There are people to whom things come easy; I am not one of them. I guess it's good training in a way--building character, teaching me to work hard for the things I really want. And work hard, I will. Maybe I'm built for stress, or work stress for that matter. I always like it when I'm working on something, especially when I'm able to understand and be good at what I'm working on--when I'm moving forward and making progress. I've never been the type who was good at sitting around and waiting.

I thought I could at least use this spare time to write, but often, I can't. There are some new subjects and styles I'd love to experiment with, but the right words, right tone, and all that aren't coming to me yet. So I'm biding my time in that department, too.

All those years in school, even when I had to wait for things, I always knew what would come next. For the first time since I've been aware of it, I have absolutely no idea what the universe has in store for me. I have plans, of course. But with these kinds of things, you can only bake your half of the plan so well. The rest is in someone else's hands (or maybe someone else's oven, if you're stubborn about sticking to that metaphor--but it sounds so wrong).

Here's a story: I almost flunked Physics in high school. I usually think of myself as a fast learner, but I was dumb as a rock in that course. Come to think of it, maybe rocks understand the laws of Physics better than I did. The worst lessons for me were the ones on projectile motion. It was a struggle to get half of those computations right. Among other things, I was awful at calculating hang time. I always thought it was little more or a little less than what it actually was.

Maybe this is just me being awful at the concept of time again. Maybe I'm right in convincing myself that there's nothing wrong or shameful about just biding time and having to wait for things. (Maybe the only real shame were my Physics grades.) In any case, I'm just going to have to hang in here, I guess.

Inspiration/Motivation

Inspiration #1: The Things I Miss

This blog, my social life, my computer games, reading books, and all the simple little pleasures in life I've been putting on hold.

And you. Quality, thesis-worry-free alone time with you.

Inspiration #2: The Things I Look Forward To

My family's collective sigh of relief and beam of pride. A graduation ceremony (or two), after five long years. Having a sablay of my own. My dream job, or any good job for that matter. Money I don't have to mooch from my parents. A puppy, come December.

And you. More freedom, more resources, more time to spend with you.

I'm writing these down because hope is elusive, time is going too fast, and things are looking scary. If I can't do this improbable task for the heck of self-pride and a sense of achievement, the next best thing would be doing it for my dreams. (Thesis speak: when intrinsic motivation fails, extrinsic motivation acts as a pretty decent backup).


I promise to finish this thesis by next month and live happily soon after.

Anyone who'll try to tell me how college is so easy compared to "real life" can kick themselves on my behalf. You've probably never met my thesis adviser.