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Serendipity Musings It must be the long weekend and all that fish I've been eating but there's always something about the Holy Week that inspires deep thought, reflection, and daydreaming. For a hard core carnivore like me, meat deprivation will either lead to terminal brain malfunction or intense introspection. So I guess this time around, it caved in to the latter. --- 0 --- Driving around the deserted city last Friday reminded me of the time when I was 25 when I missed my flight home to Iloilo for the Holy Week. I got stuck in Manila when everybody else was either partying in Boracay (as what non-practicing catholic hedonists were and still are prone to do) or making the way of the cross to absolve themselves of their past sins. There I was, single and ringless (as opposed to committed and engaged) doing exactly the same thing I was doing last Friday – driving. I drove around the eerily empty streets of Makati and pondered on what I should do with my pathetic life. I ended up going south and before it dawned on me, I was already on my way to Laguna with an empty gas tank with no gasoline station in sight. The moral of the story is: never drive with an empty tank and an empty love life or you might end up with a torn heart and a towed car – not necessarily in that order. --- 0 --- The month of March is about to end, but for those who have just graduated, a new chapter of their lives is about to begin. I remember my own graduation day. I felt invincible, hopeful, extremely proud (for not making it to the maximum residency list) and beautiful (notwithstanding the dowdy, unstylish, ethnic “Sablay” I was wearing). A few months after that momentary high of marching with my fellow “Iskolars ng Bayan”, I became a professional bum. So, what does graduation really mean? Is it the start of a new life where our students finally get the chance to earn and forge a great future for themselves? Or is it just a lemming-like mass plunge to the great abyss of joblessness and nothingness? --- 0 --- Call me a snotty, proletariat-scoffing elitist but I abhor watching Pinoy, Chinoy, Korean, Mexican, and whatever hybrid tele-novela the local channels manage to dish out to the poor, unsuspecting, cable-channel-surfing-challenged televiewer. I don't see any reason why I should subject myself to these mind-numbing, intellect-zapping primetime TV atrocities. Who wants to watch trite, clichéd and recycled storylines, anyway? The only thing that should be recycled is the kind that you throw in the trash. Well, if it brings temporary euphoria to some people, who am I to judge? --- 0 --- I always had this theory that the only way for us to achieve world peace is to give all the women in the world daily massages. Yes, you read it right. Give your mom, sister, aunt, girlfriend, and all women of child-bearing age a nice shiatsu, Swedish, or deep tissue massage every day and voila! – world peace. Everyone seems to forget that we women give birth, breastfeed, nurture, and rear the children of this world. These children will grow up to be leaders of nations, movers and shakers, corrupt dictators, terrorists, a**hole bosses and CEOs, depending on how we mothers raise and bring them up. A massage relaxes, de-stresses, and releases endorphins that give us a natural high and make us happy. So, if we get a daily rubdown, we'd be happy every day and if we're happy, we will also raise happy, amiable, peace-loving kids. It's logical, right? So hit the spa, girls! |
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