Reflections in a Dilapidated Boarding House

While many wouldn’t want to be where I am in, I admit the spot on the second floor of a dilapidated house with windows reflecting the narrow Burgos Street in Brgy. Obrero attracts my co-settlers. In front of me, across the street, is an old Spanish-styled house with weeds of all sorts sprouting all around. It has five ancient windows filled with dusts and mites, bringing someone to the 1800s, except that it has one air conditioning unit clad with cobwebs; as if my own seating isn’t a time machine in itself. I cannot exactly see the happenings on the street, I can only hear and assume. Dogs are barking, radio turned on in the landlady’s room, broadcasting updates of the new president’s State of the Nation Address. At several intervals during the day, Obrero jeepneys rush, crowding the air with the piercing noises of howling drivers and loud engines; yet so often the street stays silent with only the birds serenading and cocks expressing their might even at midday.

Enjoy the silence now, I murmur to myself as I continue to type and type. I wonder what life is going to be two to three weeks from now. Wait. Am I moving ahead again? What’s the point of checking up the future, imagining what it holds? For the past three days, I devoured all pages detailing the predictions for an Aries/Taurus Rising. What I am, I am not yet sure. Then I start asking again, does it even matter? Two months ago, I sat in a different modern blue-tinted room with paintings spread on the walls, and a brownish carpet smoothing the soles of my feet, closed in from the world with no one to gaze at but the huge finger painting of the Alcatraz, with only the fluorescent lighting the room, day in day out. The same emotions linger in me in two different scenes. Blessed with amenities and a monthly stipend back in the modern room, I still ruminated and twisted and turned the future cinematography of my life: frequently gory, seldom glory. “In the Philippines, things will get better”, I assured myself.

Now situated in an old room with sun lighting the whole expansive space for most of the day and the bare wood easing the heat steaming out of my feet, I continue to ponder what the future holds. When’s start to fill the list… when I get the CHED position, I would be better; when I build my business, I would feel great and unstoppable; when I put a PhD at the end of my name, only then I would experience profound pride beyond my placid life; when… when… But what if the when doesn’t happen? Then the would’s would never be? What if the when’s do happen yet another list of when’s opens up with more demands, more great expectations? Would the would’s be more than what’s enough? I cannot stop the thoughts bursting in all the crevices of my searching mind. Guilt creeps back and the realization swiftly slaps my rather unconscious soul.

I stand up, start pointing my index finger to an unseen spectator, as if berating someone who has soared high only to return to the landing ground. Then I realize, I might be pushing events to happen in my life too much instead of allowing situations to pull themselves up. Stop. Stop. I grab the seat, comforting myself and start typing: Then it dawns on me. The place doesn’t matter, even the situation. It’s how I perceive every situation, every pursuit. Even the desire to be in the future place is strong, I understand I am where I need to be, the neurotic overthinking included, and I am what I need to be. No more scolding for overthinking. No more stopping from ruminating. Just letting things be as much as just letting this writing flows as it flows, for the joy of lines combination and not for anything else, not restrained and too scripted or over-the-top verbose and flashy; just letting it and life be.

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About kaylathetheoxenophile

Hi everyone! I’m kayla. This is my first attempt to share my thoughts through blogging. Got lots of exploring to do. Don’t even know where to start and what to say. To start the ball rolling, allow me to share with you some of the fallacies about Kayla Marie Sarte. 1. Writing is just not my line. Although most considered me as a creative writer, I doubt I have that knack. I’m direct to the point. My essays are straight. As long as I get the message across then that’s fair enough for me. 2.I’m not a walking encyclopedia, got that? How funny it is to be asked by some bunch of kiddos bout tons of stuffs I don’t know or even have heard. Worse? They expect me to answer their queries in a snap. Good thing, I can always find the usual “busy” excuse to elude their endless questions. 3. You just don’t know how pain in the ass reading is to me. I always record the days I spend reading and do my best to keep the pace. Yeah, I’m a literature major but it’s uhmm, …. Except for required readings in my literature classes in the class, I haven’t truly deal with literary works personally. Good heavens, I found John Grisham and Dean Koontz – my all time faves. (In my later posts, I’ll be sharing my thoughts bout their books.) 4. One thing I found truly bleak about me is my loved for movies. I don’t like cinematography or even crave like Glenn Ortiz to be the Steven Spielberg of this race. I just enjoy watching movies on the big screen. That’s all. So, it’s a fallacy that I like cinematography… just the movies. 5. Call me braggart, arrogant. Many think so because of the achievements I gained in the past aching yet meaningful 15 education years of my life. What they don’t know is how negative and perturbed, covered with worries, stressed I am most of the time. No matter how great the laurel I get, I always look back at the failurs I’ve been through in the past. So, that goes to mean, I don’t think highly of myself or consider my awards that much. Top 3 things about me: 1. A Theophile 2. A Xenophile 3. Just Kayla Marie B. Sarte That’s all for now. You’ll get to know more about me soon and about the project 2012 that led me to explore blogging. J One thing is certain for me though, I love who I am for I am fashioned the way I fit exactly in a large mosaic we are all in. Be happy. Live life according to God’s will. – Kayla Sarte
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