"Life Begins at 40"

I am not yet 40, I am half that age, but I completely agree with the aforementioned statement.

At 20, you are immortal. You live by the "excesses," as most would say. Who can stop you from partying till morning, from collecting lovers and by procrastinating and not thinking ahead? This is the luxury of the young: time.

Perhaps at 40, you will always look back and see if you have accomplished as you wished. Perhaps at 40 you will begin to have deadlines and know you'll really be "dead" had you not met them.

Well, I will definitely look back at this when I am 40.

Hopefully I will reach more than 40 and hopefully, I'd be able to read this again at that time and be able to give out a sweet, healthy smile.

Hopefully.

A Fish Born in a Tank

I was 16 or 17 when I attended my friend, F's bithday party. I forgot if it was her debut. Nevertheless, this is not about her. This is about something memorable I found in her house, aside from her father's fabulous lasagna, the thick Tom Clancy book, and seeing F drink one glass of San Miguel Beer, plus her hip foreign boyfriend (knowing F is the shy, lame type of girl, that's why we're friends, because we were both lame--at that time--though of course we had our potentials, I was just surprised and quite irritated that she realized hers first).

In her house was a big fish tank. The fish tank was not beautiful; not the kind that I would dream for my own, not even the kind that was decent enough. In the fish tank was one thing: a big fish. A fish as big as my face, which is a normal size for a face. I looked at it with another friend, R, and what I was able to formulate in my head and finally utter was not what kind of a fish it was, but how sad it was for this fish to be swimming in a very small tank. R replied that, it doesn't matter, the fish was born in that tank, therefore, it knows no other world. That was comforting for me, for my sympathy for the fish, but very disturbing for myself.

Lucky for the fish born in the tank. It does not dream of the ocean.

Me, I pine for that ocean. How hard it is for us to know that yes, there are those who are beautiful, that yes, there are those who earn a billion per month, that yes, there are those who find authentic love, and yes, there is wisdom and peace of mind, and yes, there are those who die unhappy.

Knowledge is such a dagger in the mind. Sad for us that we live in our minds.

Internal Cosmos

August 27, 2003. At night. Everyone is hyped to look up at the sky, grab their telescopes and see Mars, for this is a chance of a lifetime.

I know this, even weeks before. I go to my window and take a look at the sky. It is apparent: one clear white dot, which is bigger than any star I have ever seen. And then? What? Nothing. How can I be amazed by this? Will this bring me money, fulfill my ambitions, make my skin smoother?

The greatest pleasure is surprise. The magnificent unexpected taps every electricity in you.

At this night, after billions of nights, everyone knows that Mars is visible yet remains unreachable. There are things that are just there. Real and true, but beyond grasp. The light of Mars and that of the stars are not the light that warms. They simply amaze, but tease and hurt as well.

I have to wonder, have I had a steady job, a good relationship with my family, a lover, would I be delighted at the thought of watching Mars all night till my eyes turn red? Perhaps.

Distance is imperative. This is what we learn when we are involved in a relationship. The dance of distance. How necessary it is to be near someone and then turn, walk away as if there is nothing to return to.

Where am I going? My brain keeps walking a thousand feet away from my heart.