Tempus Agit

Now is my master. While riding the jeep on the way to work, looking at the passing people hurrying to get to their offices, I realized that I am enslaved by the idea that TODAY might be the only chance I have. I am so engrossed with the fear that constantly thinking/preparing for the future shortchanges me with my experience of now. 

That is likely the reason why I hate waiting. Waiting is always the anticipation of something that hasn't come yet. It's postponing certain decisions in lieu of something grand to come along the way. But in an age of pro-activity and self-empowerment, waiting leaves you powerless in the hands of the unforeseeable future. Of course, while we've arranged the world to comfortably be predictable most of the time, the possibility of a surprising turn of events still lies there somewhere, ready to pounce on you when you least expect it.

Everyone has heard sad stories about people who believed tomorrow offered a better promise than today: that mister who grinds himself to the ground saving up for the future until a sudden accident kills him. Or that lady who pines for her husband who went missing -- staying loyal until the end because she had faith he would show up one day. The poor people who grin and bear the sufferings they endure because they hope that the heavens see their plight and will give them their just rewards, whether in this lifetime or the next. 

While we appeal to probability and hope that there is a bright and better future reserved for us, who knows what the future really holds? All I know is that now is the only tangible thing. The future is a concept that might not even arrive for me. Yes, my senses delude me, my emotions deceive me, but rationality isn't what makes me human. Experiences shape who I am -- and these highs in life that I pursue, while fleeting and ephemeral, are what give me meaning and make my life worthwhile.

HOWEVER, while fear drives me to create the maximum human experience for today, fear also feeds me thoughts of having nothing tomorrow. Thus I am torn apart between the now and the future. I feel like I am St. Anthony in Martin Schongauer's engraving being pulled from all sides by these demons of time. I really should find balance and learn to serve two masters. 

I'm Gonna Be A Great Dancer

If I continue to believe we're all staying afloat in this ocean of circumstance, I have very good reasons to do so.

Right now my head hurts. It's such a quiet night apart from the random tricycle outside the village cruising at this hour. I'm thinking about how long and far I've gone, but I'm not sure if I'm gauging it properly. I guess at 24 I really should know more, but then I'm still besieged with the same nostalgia and the perpetual human discontentment with life.

To be clear, life isn't all that sad or bad. It's just that, I still don't get it. But then again I suppose nobody really gets what life means, so in a way (if being a part of the herd is any consolation at all) I guess it's ok. I shouldn't be entertaining thoughts about the meaning of life at 11:29 P.M. because the night has a way to make it more -- well -- dramatic. Which really isn't the best way to get things going.

Because -- you know -- once emotions get the best of you you get all f**ked up (pardon the word). You start wondering what the hell you're doing stuck in a job when you could be somewhere else. You begin to think if you're wasting your life waking up every morning doing the same things over and over. You get irked by the fact that life is a constant uphill climb to that cliff where the final Spartan kick from the back pushes you to your miserable death. You then suddenly fear for the future and you grow wary of your mortality.

Humanity is circumstantial. And so is everything else. Lives crisscross and intertwine and then separate. Somehow along the way there's always a fork in the road where everybody says goodbye to the people they've grown attached to. Much as I hate it, inevitably, everyone has to bid farewell and it isn't always a Mary Poppins over the rainbow magical exit. Nostalgia and separation anxiety are like fierce lions that rip you apart to shreds, gnawing at your heart.

Do you feel any better about it? No. But you have memories to hang on to, nonetheless. Eventually you'll go on, meet other friends, be happy, then yet again say goodbye. It's a cycle. And the key to self-preservation is to learn that in the end it's only you. Call it selfishness; I call it survival. That's how things are -- learn to deal. Learn to get the most out of everything. Learn to enjoy life as it comes along. The random things. The silly things. The stupid things. Every little happy moment should be seized while they last. They're only good for that particular point in time. Temporary highs have very short shelf lives that's why you should indulge in them while they last.

Life isn't always the best. And it takes a certain degree of insanity to go through it. There are no winners: just people who've learned to dance until the beat stops. So as the song goes, kudos to those who see through the sickness.

(Thank you to the people who've danced and who continue to dance with me -- a special shout-out to Master Che Caparas. You just wait, I'm gonna be a great dancer!)