It's been a couple of weeks since I have had a housemate (hi Jaybee!) and I can no longer remember the last time I have had enough hours of sleep. I'm not complaining though, for in the same regard I have been more regular in going to the gym thanks to his incessant prodding, and watching Pinoy movies with someone who actually understands the dialogue is always fun. But really, I'm not complaining, mostly because more often than not the reason for staying up late is good conversation, about all things under the sun (and over it): from the current economic recession to relationships and marriage, from strategic career planning to grade school and high school experiences; from the things that Jaybee thinks Teng has missed out on and the other way around.
However all this talk has encouraged me to reconsider a lot of things too. The fact that I am counting down to my 25th birthday is not helping; cliche as it sounds, quarter-life crises seem to be real for many people (my lolas and I included!). All of a sudden I insist on finding answers to rhetorical questions. I seem to be more stubborn with my beliefs and resist things that do not come with a logical, rational explanation. I even more adamantly refuse to accept justifications like "that's just the way things work", "that's life" and "ganun talaga". And yet, it also feels like being backed up against a wall - a thick, big, solid wall. Because, after all, what can you do if neither yourself nor anyone else can give you a satisfactory explanation of life's experiences?
There was a time when I felt I could fight for all my convictions, but now I feel I've run out of fuel, that fuel called youth. Youth is a great excuse, if not the single best excuse... for trying crazy things, making rash decisions, throwing caution to the wind... and above all, for taking your sweet time figuring things out. But heck, no one's getting any younger. Maybe it's time to take a long hard look at those convictions and try to open myself up to new ones... new things to believe in.
It ain't easy. The risk-averse, starry-eyed manang is embedded in me. She's the one who sits on the couch on late evenings staring out into the night, thinking, worrying, reflecting, swirling thoughts around in her head trying to make sense of them, and in this cycle she's probably speeding up her ageing process. She's idealistic, unfalteringly believing in the best of things and the best of people and refusing to be jaded despite having seen terrible things and even more terrible people. She's also the one who believes in old school love, having witnessed many instances that prove to her that there's nothing wrong believing in it and that one day it could happen to her as well.
I feel I must say goodbye to the manang who believed in all things good and beautiful and romantic, and how they will unravel in the way she saw it in her head. Or at least, I shouldn't let her surface too often. It kind of gets tiring, how people keep telling me I'm too idealistic when the world out there is not the least bit as perfect as I imagine it would be.
Youth was my great excuse for idealism, but soon enough it will no longer be on my side. My doubts will, slowly but surely, eat up what's left of the hope I once had that life is, for the most part, fair. So before that happens, allow me a little indulgence for my idealistic self and end on a hopeful note: Life's not fair, but it can still be good!
