Crossroads.

I have never dared try city driving. I have been limited primarily by how poorly I think of my sense of direction, and the lack of inherent talent for quick-thinking on the road. I can drive alright, but am scared of crossroads, directions, road signs, and yes, even stoplights. I have this weird fear of road maps, both as a navigator and much so, the one behind the wheel. Because I know that this would have to call on my obligatory, speedy, and correct judgement on where and when to turn. I simply have to know what to do. At all times.

Now, I am currently on a similar predicament, but on a grander (and scarier) scale - I am facing the call for life turns and detours that will define my future. Having that eureka feeling its due time for change, I found the thought exciting at the outset. I don’t exactly know where I will end up, much so how to get there. I just know it’s time to pack and be elsewhere.

But as I feared, the road signs were not as conveniently clear cut as I hoped they’d be. There were no neon lights pointing to the right choices, nor tour guides to lead me the way. Just me and the thought that I should get to wherever fate is leading me. After checking out some of my options on the list of turns – all of which so far turned out to be dead ends - fear has started to creep in. That I am running out of options. I am no longer sure which turns to take, go back to, or hope for. Knowing that everything is all up to me makes it even scarier.

However, come to think of it, this journey is not just about getting to that point but savoring my way there. The road isn’t as straight, but nonetheless filled with experiences to discover and be amused with. I have been teaching myself to make big decisions - the right ones, and to graciously accept those which are not, and learn from these. To push harder, to accept minor setbacks, and best of all - to enjoy the journey. I know what I want, and I will get there, in due time. Tougher, better, happier, and much more.

Old notes on the road.

I was rummaging through my ancient soft copy files I stored in CDs before coming back home (from Australia), and found some old techno scribblings of the usually melodramatic me. Done in between research experiments and deciphering hard-core molecular jargons, thoughts like these seep through. I realize, I have always been that kind who'd step on the breaks on a fast track, to watch butterflies float happily by.

Time and Space

30 October 2002

A moment in eternity, fleeting.
A scale in endless time, ephemeral.
Lives passing by in this infinity.

A fleck in a sea of sand, minuscule
A fragment of the earth, infinitesimal
One soul a speck of skin in this endless void.

We dream, we run, we rush.
We mock, we demean, we crush. But why?
Distorted time and space, buried in our eyes.

If life is glanced with profound pragmatism -
That we are mere passers by
And we are but part of a million specks,
Won’t one desire to give this given chance its best?

To make that indiscernible fragment leaving imprints on hearts
That trace of speck indelibly marking souls,
That fleeting moment be remembered
And that bit of scale lived full.

Right of Passage
05 November 2002

In a sea of emotions
I drift by.
Holding back,
Thinking, rethinking
What is right.
What is good.
What must be.
Not what I want
Nor how I feel
Nor what I am,
But what I can be.

Regrets?
Probably.
But then again,
It comes creeping in -
The guilt and aftermath
Outweighs
Unthought acts.
Tormenting at times,
As it may seem,
What is right.
What is good
What must be.
Had become what I am.
And perhaps, probably me.