My Life and Times 4

A few weeks back, if you remember, I was having a difficult time explaining the last few years to myself.

To keep my mind off things, I worked out harder than usual.  When I go to the gym I usually switch off my little phone, which is dumb--and proud of it--and leave it in the locker room.  I do this to avoid distractions, because I try to be in and out of the gym in the shortest time possible.  I do not like the idea of going to a gym.  I like the idea of physical work, but going to a gym at times seems so pointless.  Men, instead, should be out breaking their backs in a farm or something--a point obviously lost on the guys I see carrying weights around the gym in a routine called the farmer's walk.  It is called a farmer's walk for a freaking reason, you see what I'm saying? What is the point of approximating a farmer's walk, if you can be doing an actual farmer's walk?  But since most of us can't, for various reasons, we go to the gym.  We do the best we can, I guess.

That day, for the first time, and for whatever reason, my little phone ended up, on, in my pocket.

I did not realize this until I dug in the said pocket for the little Post-It that contained the routine I had planned.  With the discovery, my brain shorted an important circuit and went, Maybe it is meant to be there.  Hello, I'm not supposed to believe in cosmic alignments, coincidences and things of that nature.  Strangely enough, a few minutes later a message arrived asking if I wanted to hang out that night.  You know how sometimes when you're lonely and feeling lousy all sorts of crazy things get in your head?  The girl very rarely texts me, and for the next several minutes I actually believed she had just asked me out... ...even though I knew she has a boyfriend.  What was I supposed to do, say no?  Beggars for female attention can't be choosers.  Hi hi.

I got it all wrong, of course, the hell was I thinking?  That night, she brought her roommate along.

It's funny how things sometimes turn out: now, with said roommate, I have a date.

My Life and Times 3

When I take my customary eight-mile walks on weekends, I like for music to play in my ears.  I have to say my MP3 library, while not extraordinarily large or particularly compelling, is nevertheless well-curated.  Each song, in some way, does something for me.

One song is Si No Te Hubieras Ido, and what it does is take me--really--to a different place, even though I don't understand a single damn thing.  Admittedly, a lot of this is because it plays in the final minutes of Y Tu Mama Tambien, the Mexican road-trip movie, in a scene that I can only describe as one of the sexiest ever on film.  The fantasy that comes with it is this: the sun is high up, this song is playing in my ears, and I am taking my usual walk, but, in this case, I am shirtless and barefoot on a gorgeous beach *wink* *wink* in the Philippines.  I swear: sometimes I can hear waves.


In recent weeks, the fantasy has changed in one small, but significant detail.  In this latest iteration, I am wearing a ring around an important finger.  Hi hi.  That is neither hint nor news, but I can't help it: in my advanced age, I begin to wonder how a ring would feel like.


I don't really know why or how this happened.  At some point, I even got into a semi-funny, semi-serious conversation with a neighbor and friend about marketability--which, of course, made me feel like I was some kind of meat.  But is it too naughty to admit that I wish someone--anyone--somewhere thinks I'm some kind of meat?  Hi hi.  We also calculated the odds of finding someone in a country of 80 million people.  I doubt it is still 80 million, but you get the point.

Damn I am old.  It is fantasies like this that keep me young.

Conversations with Myself

So, was it all worth it?

I'm hoping that it was, but at the moment I'm not really convinced.

A few days ago, my PhD truly and finally became official.  It was one of those moments that, for better or for worse, would impact the rest of my life.  Naks.

But it's true.  My roommate, who is Brazilian, rightly pointed out that, sometimes, the trajectory a life takes is defined by a few singular moments.  A few, singular choices, if you will.

My own life certainly could have been vastly different.  By time I had a received a late invitation to start graduate school here, I was nearly set to join a program in Hokkaido, a Japanese island so up north that I imagine one could see Russia from there.  Had I gone, I imagine I would have been, by now, a prim and proper, pale--from lack of sun exposure--photograph-taking nerd who has sushi and sashimi for dinner.  Instead, I am a dark-skinned--from a lot of sun exposure--salsa-dancing cabron who has burritos for dinner.

The price that was to be paid, unfortunately, had been particularly steep.  I did not see my father alive again after I left.  I have not seen my mother, my brother and my best friends in almost four years.  A long-distance girlfriend broke my heart.  I missed my brother's wedding.  The list goes on, shall I continue?

I don't know necessarily if it was all worth it, but I know it is too late now for regret.  Admittedly, there are things I might have done differently, but, (un)fortunately, life goes only ever forward.  Perhaps, in the end, it is really up to us to make the best of the choices we've made, however questionable some of those may have been.