A Respite

A day off the rat race. The rain on my roof is slowly ebbing to a stop. Some rap music plays on my stereo. I have Facebook, Strawberry and Fishpond on simultaneous windows - a typical day off spent. The mess around me occupies a tiny part of my mind. The good thing is I don't feel like lying down and sleeping. Life is too short to be spent sleeping. Another good thing is I remember being conscious about my dreams last night. I mean I remember a lot of them - like telling Peter Devantier about my grandfather. Peter is back as butler from Guest Relations Manager. An ironic twist of fate but I think he prefers that to the politics up there. I remember seeing Melaine as well in my dream - my mom's once-empty garden with a gaping hole on one side, suddenly had a whole body of water moving from the other side and filling it up. A bit weird, don't know how that happened. Remember living in a house that is half my house back home and half my Auckland abode. Remembering my dreams is a good sign.

I don't really know what a blog's purpose is, I am thinking it's my kind of journal, written in uniform fonts instead of my usual curly and curvy handwriting. And of course, it's for people to see. I would have preferred my journal to be somewhere private but with my vagabonding lifestyle, it's always difficult to keep them somewhere safe. Keeping them in my hard drive or in a flash drive is not too safe either. Putting them online is the safest place and the most accessible at the same time but it's too public, prevents me from saying all my thoughts.

Today is a good day. Simply because I feel good about life. I was not too lazy to cook for my kids despite the pouring rain outside and the low temperature. I can always find my excuses but I never should. Getting my locks chopped was a good start to taking control of my life, though.

Today is a good day. God loves me. That's all that matters.

Music

As the lyrics to Carpe Diem by Aldebert rush forth, the speed of my hands on the folding and dishwashing also accelerates. Even when the Disc jumped on to I’ll Make Love To You. Yes, music has always been inspirational. It has taken me to all sorts of moods and all highs and lows. It could provoke a torrent of sobs or a laughing hysteria. It takes me to romantic interludes and high school parties, even the forgotten face of a lover. I believe this can take me back to myself, that part of me which has been lost. It seems I jumped on to a stage which I am not ready for, simply because I skipped something in between. Looking closer, it’s missing the part where I backpack before I get married and have children. I had children first, got married and did not exactly backpack. I started backpacking to Ifugao, though, and got interrupted. I have to continue that before I go back to having children and then getting married. Only then can I feel that I have followed the cycle of life. This I need to resolve, otherwise I will never lose that feeling of missing something. Who knows what else I will find along the way – my missing mission, my missing self….

Holy Thursday

April the 1st. I have a paunch, confused thoughts, disappointment with self. All these reflected in an unsmiling face, indecision, blabbering, back-stabbing. Rather an ugly picture. It is only a stage but what a dreadful stage to be in. Stuck with cyber-stuff : Facebook, Yahoo, Gmail, Flickr, etc. No human contact, reminiscing old friends but there are really no friends here. The only saving grace is the kids. They are growing and breatheing, and they are my raison d'etre. I should never forget that.

I go to Post-Grad school in a few months, part of the steps in my search for my Personal Legend. I thought this could lead to teaching, a balanced life and giving back what I have received. It's not always written in stone, right? It could change, right? I could make my own choices without fear and worry that I've made a grave mistake, right? I know I swore I won't teach like Ma and Da but looking back, it is a noble profession. Although it could be a sad fate, that is, teaching Hospitality. But on further introspection, I do love doing it. I probably love it better than if I had ended up looking into oral cavities for life. I will never know, though. But does that mean I am giving anything back, though, or doing anything meaningful? Will I be really?

If I am paying for it, I might as well do it well. But keep that hotel job for the sake of the benefits. Not much of a work of Art but a very honest one.

19th Feb, Mission Bay, 18h13

A beautiful yet windy day.....

Lying out in the sun, the very short, peaceful moments were interrupted by annoying gusts of wind sending tiny bits of sand onto my teeth, my sarong and into my eyes. Josh enjoys a whirl around the playground while Mikkael opts to stay at home with Mac and Runescape. I try to finish my book, The Element by Ken Robinson, while getting a suntan until I finally give up, pack my things and move over to the shell-filled part of the beach. Anything to avoid the irritating sand. The wind is too cold and does not help my suntanning objective.

I take photos of the landscape and beach-goers on my Nikon Coolpix hoping for anything that can be remotely-labelled as a work of art. To my usual disappointment, I cannot find anything even half as good. But I have always been a tough critic to myself. I have always thought I should pit myself against the masters and the geniuses. But I have never really studied them thinking I have some kind of talent hidden somewhere which will just manifest itself suddenly or slowly.

I have also realized I have always liked to record things - take a photo or write an essay - without basking in the moment. I have always not trusted that my own senses and my own memories of a beautiful sunrise, for example, would ever do justice to the actual spectacle or event. Hence, the need of an electronic aid or otherwise - the camera, the Macbook or the reliable pen.

Again, this is still a part of my search for my mission. Maybe be a historian or a journalist? Maybe Carlota was right? But wouldn't my being opinionated get in the way of my objectivity? Would I be happy telling people of an event? How much time would it take before I'd get bored?

Would my life be summed up by the photos I took and posted on Facebook? Where is the meaning there, the purpose?

Who cares about my thoughts and interpretations of people and events? Who cares about the stories I concoct in my crazy head?

The Green Mile

Watched part of the movie and was deeply touched. The irony, an ad for a washing machine detergent passed through, and I am reminded of how I used to wash my clothes in the shared machine back in Baan Dusit. Those were a few of my early memories of Dubai. And those were my more treasured memories - taking the staff bus to Karama, to Sunday masses, to work and back. More memorable than when I drove my own car. Simply because those were my humble beginnings. And I'd like to think this is the lesson I am being taught. To remember those humble beginnings.

I went to university in the big city, dependent on my poor parents' salaries as teachers. I had two brothers due to go to university soon themselves. To live decently, I had to go to this ladies' dormitory where the well-off kids went to. I'm not sure how my dad survived that. Then I flunked the pre-dent dexterity test, and further flunked the interview. Just a few of the things I flunked in life. You win some, you lose some. That should have kept me grounded, plus the 4's I had - Math 11, Biochem, Zoo 10 (or was it 11?). My Physics wasn't so bad, though. And I got a 1.75 when I took up Math 11 again. Really a big embarrassment since I got a 99% in my College Entrance Test and passed a quota course.

That should have been more than enough to keep me humble. But my memory is really very short.

I am Wind

I am exciting, moody, powerful, invisible but felt, changeable, strong, unpredictable, a catalyst for fire and for change, mysterious, eerie, frightening, graceful; I am the air you breathe. I make leaves dance, I destroy, I soothe, I calm, I bring on rain, I sway, I whip, I cool / neutralize heat, I go through cracks, I carry beautiful scents and aromas, I stir, I cause tornadoes, I ignite fire, I kindle fire, I kill weak fire, I carry sound; too much of me kills and hurts the lungs; I let birds fly, I let kites and airplanes fly.

I am Wind.

For the next thirty days, this is my mantra. My changeable and unpredictable nature resembles the wind most of the time. I do not make plans. I do things at the drop of a hat. I change course when I like. I do things according to my moods. That makes me unstable, too. But then again, I am powerful, strong enough to control that instability. That is really up to me. I have so much power and potential in me that I am capable of building or destroying. It is really up to me to choose.

I am Wind.

I can shape the destiny of things. I can influence the weather, the direction the leaves sway or the dancing of the mighty trees. I influence the movement of the waters, the direction of sailboats, the ease or difficulty with which the pilot steers his aircraft, whether a small child hurts his hands from keeping control of his powerful kite or for that same child to enjoy its gentle gliding. I even help in reproduction, when I blow seeds into the direction of good soil. If I blow too much, I could break a beautiful butterfly's wings or the frail limbs of a baby bird.

I am Wind.

I could be gentle like a lover caressing his beloved's cheek or be ruthless like a raging storm. My power lies in my ability to control that rage. I look to my Master for orders. I look to Him for help. Though I know I am wind, I do not know what is expected of me. Should I be the bearer of beautiful sound or should I be the bringer of rain? Should I put out tiny sparks or do I ignite huge fires? Should I help steer sailboats or should I discourage adventures? Do I help build sand castles or do I destroy mighty fortresses?

I am Wind. I do as the Great One bids.

Still Day 1

This is how a confused mind thinks. It's past midnight and I just finished my first blog. I am thinking of getting a Big Mac just because I see a friend's name on Facebook who's had a combo earlier. Not really a good way to start the Sunday. Thank heavens, ma voiture est en panne (my car is not working). These blogs will be filled with a mixture of languages I know which could be grammatically correct or which could not be. The kids are at a friend's for a sleepover. What's left for me to do? I could watch that French movie again but I don't think I have the energy to listen to and to understand what the actors are saying. Or I could read that book further but I'm not really in the mood. Which reminds me that I still have a row of books on my shelf that need to be read. They have accumulated for the past few months but my moods have been at extreme highs and lows and a high would merit reading and finishing one.

Which means there have been more lows that I had to resort to re-reading the Twilight saga in so short a time. Another proof of a lot of lows. This pattern seems to occur every few years or so manifested in different ways. It could be in the form of binge eating, binge reading, obsessive behaviors such as photography, looking up Robert Pattinson's biography (a recent one, it was Shahrukh Khan once) and just taking up any course that catches my fancy (Travel Writing being one of the most recent). Again, I figure this is an attempt at finding my life's mission.

I keep thinking having pictures on my wall would help me. Or even an action plan - the same kind you make for work (strategic and short-term). But they are always only good on paper. Implementing them has always been hard. Doing a picture plan didn't do me any good either. I just ended up losing interest because my painting skills left a lot to be desired.

I have always had illusions and delusions of grandeur. I thought my mission would be something like changing the world - hence the attempt at being an online volunteer for the United Nations. I had a rude awakening when I discovered I could not even volunteer for one job because all I knew was how to make a training plan for new Front Office staff and how to meet the boss's expectations (which is a major struggle). Nothing meaningful like creating a suburban city plan nor a school curriculum. I ended up just being a global parent which required nothing but $25.00 a month, a feat any average Jane could do. Again, another proof of my delusional tendencies.

Looks like this will take a lot of work and time....

Day 1

I read this book several years ago, The Path by Laurie Beth Jones. In restrospect, I thought I wasn't ready. Several books and several years later, I read it again and still think I am not ready. I start with the first few chapters and end up falling asleep. My long weeks of long hours at work have taken its toll. I end up more confused than ever. One minute I think I would take up a Bachelor's Degree in Psychology, the next minute I think I should take up Linguistics. And I continue to slog in hours in the luxury hotel where I manage the Club.

I went into a quota course in the country's premier state university with dreams of having an MD after my name. Really, it was my mother's dream. I didn't know what my dream was. I spent about a year and a half in the pre-Dental program and ended up cross-enrolling in the main campus taking up Spanish and Italian. And I finished a Bachelor's in Tourism since then. That's how I became a hotelier.

The hotel business is an exciting and dynamic industry. No two days are ever the same and managing people from all walks of life and from different cultures is quite challenging. This was not the challenge I had in mind, though, when I went into university. But then again, I've lost sight of what I really wanted. Simply because I thought my youth would be there forever and that I will always have time to pursue my dreams. I don't know if I am the only person in this planet with this dilemma.

I know that each human being has a role to play in the universe but I don't know what mine is. I am not even sure I am good at anything. I have a few things I can do here and there but I am never happy with my abilities, I always think I am mediocre. Don't get me wrong, I finished top of my class in high school - hardly mediocre by some people's standards. But going into that tough university filled with the country's creme de la creme, you think you are some deluded loser pretending to belong.

But I never belonged anywhere - not in the small town I called home, not in the big university I earned my degree from nor in the new country I now live in. I probably never will.

But I will continue searching for my place and for my mission......this is just the beginning of actively seeking it.