69- Mom, I Spilled Some Ink

Okay. Quite frankly, I am perplexed. 

How does one go from feeling an optimism defined in large part by a very real sense of purpose, backed by a very real, tangible, notion that everything CAN happen because ability exists behind every word, to feeling absolutely lost, in a span of a year? 

Try going for gold in an arena you don't belong in, or, in simpler terms, trying claiming you can cook a 5-star duck dish, when in truth, your hand needs ro be held when you fry an egg. 

I started this Travel Blog in the first quarter of this year as a venue wherein I could pay homage to the gods of travel and adventure with whom I have been privileged to have "break bread" with. Lately, I have not really managed to travel very much. The only excursions I have had have been excursions in my mind. I admittedly have a very active mind and so, the imaginary trysts have been quite a thrill. 

Those aren't enough to satisfy my thirst for adventure, though. It's like drinking wine while at the beach in the middle of summer. Liquid is meant to quench thirst, but my goodness, please, choose the right kind of liquid to guzzle down. 

I need to travel. I need to find myself. I need to take my creative reins back. I have become complacent. I have let "The Man", win. I should have placed him in a pinning predicament a long time ago when I had the chance. 

It will not be easy balancing a dream with the concept of pragmatism. No sir. But it can happen. I've seen it done before. Is it a simple matter? Not by any stretch.

If I don't find my inspiration, I might as well die like a snail- crushed, devoid of a very real idea of radiance, and of transcendence- of being more than just a mollusk without any real purpose, seemingly, other than being basted and served in a Gordon Ramsay restaurant. 

I've spilled ink on white linen. 

You may call it a mess, but I call it "beauty" not even a gallon of Didi Seven can remove. 

MC

68- The Boss

Before you run through the fields, don't forget to don your leather jacket and crank up some stuff by The Boss.

Thunder Road indeed.

MC

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67- Voyager

Journeys are often defined by- intent, and purpose. 

I have constantly failed to understand the intent and purpose behind working in an office- not because there is no sense to what people in an office actually do, but because, often times, the work loses meaning when viewed from the greater scheme of things. 

What does this all mean anyway? 

So we ask. 

Would you rather explore the world on foot- go on a run through the continents- as opposed to donning a suit? 

A part of me, unequivocally, says yes. 

MC

66- Ageing

We hear the phrase all the time.

"Time flies."
"Tempus fugit."

I am 31 years old. I was driving to the gas station today and for the first time, I felt really old. I am not sure what the triggered the thought. I just really felt it. Maybe it was me having seen some youths crossing the street, or, me forgetting exactly what I needed to buy at the supermarket. Whatever the case, it isn't really all too hot to be numerically the inverse of "naught".

It has been 9 years since I graduated from college, and I will be the first to admit that I would have wanted to have been able to do a bit more with my time as a student. Discovering one's self being an almost "default" thing? I hate that. I detest the fact that "most people have to experience it to be able to grow". All in all, it can serve as a monumental waste of time. Find yourself while the rest of the universe evolves into a truly multifaceted species, will you?

This post is not necessarily about regret. It is more about pondering on where the heck all the time's gone. If we were to look at the subject from the perspective of traveling, think of it as being shocked that your magical vacation's just concluded when really, it seems like it had only just begun. Imagine the best meal of your life, finished before you could even imagine ordering seconds. It's one of those things that people forever wonder about, complain about, and discuss, but never really quite understand, or, dare I say, remedy.

For the first time in my life, it feels like the "scenic" leg of the "trip" is on its way to completion. Many great things could very well still arrive, but things will never be the same.

You can always be great.

But kid, you can't be 18 forever.

My goodness, do I feel like an old man who has a million and ome musings today, or what?

MC

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65- The Itch.

I see a wall.

A very tall barrier, this one. 

The ground is swollen- rife with anger. It has becoming a demanding monarch- this fragment of Earth, this, a symbol of what it meant to be real. 

Around me, there are sirens blaring, people staring. The hopelessness is palpable. The colors fade slowly as the streets are bathed in twilight's morose blanket of haze.

In the distance, a woman weeps. I approach her, and inquire about how I may be of assistance, of comfort. She gazes upon me blankly. I turn around and walk away- perplexed by everything going on around me. I wonder why, but do not ask how.

The wall is imposing. The wall is covered in thorns, pure evil unsheathed. Beyond the wall, is salvation- or at least, that is what the tall tales purport.

I feel a yearning, an itch, to climb. I feel an itch to climb over the wall- cuts, bruises, pain, be damned, just to see the sun.

When to start?

Where to begin?

Here. Now.

**

MC

64- Good Morning!

Good morning!

I'll keep things simple.

If Manila had a train system like Singapore's, or that of any other nation with bureaucrats with enough sense, and political will, to get things done, then, we'd be all be better off.

Still Looking for Answers,
MC

63- Calm

A Little Slice of Calm in the Middle of the Big City- Gardens By the Bay Singapore

I won't lie to you guys. I am absolutely dying to travel again- and not care about much else. Sitting in an office cube, worrying about numbers, timelines, and other things which, all in all, can be classified as mundane, just don't cut it for me. Corporate life is murder- murder on the spirit, that is. Corporate life pays well- that's for sure. One must always be wary, however, of his/her soul being compromised. 

During my 2013 trip to Singapore, I can remember walking, and walking, and walking, and walking, until my feet, actually, screamed for more. The smells of culinary masterpieces wafting through the city streets, concrete Goliaths patrolling the skyline, renovation after renovation, after renovation. Singapore, at times, seemed like one huge, ultra-modern, obstacle course of a metropolis. The moments when a bloke from a country that honestly, can't even get its train system down pat, was in absolute awe, came in waves- constant, unrelenting. 

When I travel, I tend to have a hard time letting go. I have a hard time going home. I end up wondering what, and where, home is in the first place. 

It all comes to a boil then, I realize, that home is never where I thought it was, in the first place. 

Home is what tugs at your heartstrings. Home is what has meaning which transcends all the inane worksheets and meetings. 

Home is a state of being. Home is a state of calm. 

Underneath all the blinding lights, all that matters is calm. 

Move towards the calm. Surrender to it. It's what really matters in life. 

MC