For weeks of not posting anything here, I buried myself at work. Each day that passed I felt how my responsibilities grew more and more. I am now in correspondence with people situated in various countries.

In the middle of the hustle and bustle of work, I was even able to visit an elder. I always enjoyed sipping cups of coffee while she talked about days of yore, old relatives whom I haven't met basically because all of them have departed already. I found that one session with her to be very remarkable only because she made me realize what I did not know about my late grandfather. She said that he was very hardworking. I did not know that. I had to interrupt her to say that I have no idea who my dad's father really was when the latter was still alive.

Surely I was able to interact with him during the last few years of his life. He died when I was 5 or 6 years old. The memories I have of him are painful in that he was already a victim of a stroke and so he was already bed-ridden when I first knew him. He took my family in and my cousins' family was also there with us. For some reason he managed to show me how he hated me by poking me with a stick like I was an insect. At least he was indifferent with my cousins. It would have been good enough for me, but my presence would always solicit his unwanted attention. From poking it developed to hitting which made my parents decide for us to finally move out and get our own place. A year after, he died.

My dad didn't talk about him that much. I can't remember a piece of story that linked him with his dad except that one story when, according to him, my grandfather took them to the province on a summer vacation that he enjoyed. Maybe it was the only enjoyable memory that he has of him.

Honestly, I wish that my dad talked about his dad more when I was growing up. I wish that I enjoyed my grandfather's presence when he was still alive. I wish that I had something to hold on to from my past. From someone who went ahead of me.

All I can remember before my grandfather would enter the room to make my mornings miserable was pushing my little face against the wired windowpane of my family's room. What I had was just a view of a piece of sky, but I loved to imagine that the square formations of the patterned wires were glass windows of a skyscraper. I didn't realize it back then, but I think I was daydreaming of a life in the future. My future away from my misery.

I want to return to that time before my grandfather's stroke. I want to see him work and learn from him. I want to know my dad's dad as a good and caring person. I want to know the person who gave me my dad.

Like a piece of sky, what I have of my roots is something that I need to take me further... to make me grow more and see the vast, wonderful picture of my life.

DEAR YOU:

I just got back from washing my face with water and soap. Honestly, I seemed to have overspent my mirror time (checking myself out) today.

I used to perceive age as something that is added to the person.
An additional thing that makes the person less interesting. C'mon now. Aging is synonymous with wrinkles, weaker health conditions, being outdated, among others. I know it's a cruel image-setting issue.

I'm only stressing about aging now because for the past four weeks
a lot of people I know -- family, friends, and colleagues -- celebrated their birthdays. This reminds me of my own very soon. I've been staring at my reflection more and more lately. Just this morning I was telling myself, "What's this?! This wasn't here last month. What could have I done to let this be here?" Of course, I was referring to excess fat, a wrinkle somewhere in the face, and a weird droop in the skin.

At some point in our lives a physical self-examination really becomes
the main plot of our life story like the climax is suddenly here. And suddenly, too, everything else in our lives is insignificant. The accomplishments didn't seem to matter. Material stuff we bought are for naught.

I am turning 30 very, very soon.

Just as I was about to have a minor meltdown,
I saw an image of me in the fountain pool enjoying my time away. Siblings snapped that photo of me with my feet stomping on shallow water.
I somehow thought that
age can be a fountain to our pool. It's not supposed to be there
but it's there to make the pool experience more fun, more interesting.

HERE'S TO COPING WITH AGE:

DEAR YOU:

It's only now that I'm beginning to wonder where I'm actually led whenever I take a step. I've never asked, "Towards where?"

I just received an offer for a new job. Elsewhere. A country so distant that no one I know has ever been there.

I figured that if I can be lonely where I am now then it's alright to be lonely regardless of the place. Secretly though, I got a bit hopeful that being SOMEWHERE new presented an opportunity for me to be SOMEONE new. That if I got this chance to start over, I'd be happy.

That's the thing with future tense. It remains to be seen even if we've considered all the pros and the cons.

Does every step I take really lead me somewhere or am I just scaling the same set of stairs over and over again?

It's exactly what the image on the left is evoking to me.

Steps must lead somewhere.

DEAR YOU:

I dozed off to a deep sleep just when I was planning of posting something here.
Not that I had something to post because my mind was actually tired,
but I wanted to be on schedule which is daily.

When I awoke, I was caressing my soft blanket (not what you were thinking, silly!).
I then realized that it's a pretty darn soft blanket. The house helper tossed it to me the other day when I requested for one. You see, the weather's becoming chilly each day.
I mindlessly tossed it on my drawer.

It's only now that I am trying to recall where I bought it. The blanket felt familiar. I knew that I've felt it with my bare hands before. I stared at the color and then bam! I remember having it exchanged for another color when I was buying it. It was around November of last year. It was at a neighborhood bazaar where I got it.

This only means one thing: holiday bazaars.
I suddenly got excited with the fact that most of them start around November. I don't really shop-shop. I simply shop for what's useful. And I don't automatically mean tools.
It can be a very soft blanket that I felt I needed, then I'd forget
only to be reunited almost a year after and remember
why I even bought it in the first place.

... kinda like friendships I used to have. Or friends I used to hang out with.

We are all no longer the same. Days, months, and years have changed us.

I hope to see some of them soon over the holidays.
I'm just wondering: Do they miss me as well?

I AM HOPEFUL OF  THAT WHILE WATCHING THIS:

DEAR YOU:

We may not know each other but here I am in the middle of our garden at home.
There you are, maybe in the hustle and bustle of your daily grind.
I am surrounded by nothing but plants.

The weather's the calmest I've experienced so far this month. No intense heat. No thunder or lightning. No drizzle at all. It's like the day is standing still to make me see things around me without twitching my eyebrows. I don't have to force open my eyes outdoors. It's amazing. I merely have to stare as there is not glare of sunlight.

After a day of working with people online, I got drained. I don't see them at all but the experience would always leave me 50% less strong and vibrant as I was when I woke up.

Oh well, I guess, I have distorted the process of interacting with people that I can't tell the difference between dealing with them personally and online anymore.

I'm now looking at the plants around me here
and I feel a soothing feeling of calm and peace. The work day is pretty much the same for me but the weather and the garden look quite different.

I have not heard from a friend who recently got disappointed with me. She's my only female friend. I am spooked by the others. I couldn't help remembering her because I just caught the movie Maid of Honor on television. With females in my family, I am a bit distant but caring. You can call it firm love.

This may just be the effect of having a clear mind surrounded by nature that supports it. Call it blogging from a garden of contemplation.

I wonder what my snack is going to be in a little while...

WHAT I'M WATCHING RIGHT NOW:

DEAR YOU:

Dragged myself to the kitchen and found a bowl of fettuccine sans the sauce.

Looking at the white splendor before me, I figured, "Hey, what if everything's a shade of gray or white for starters? What if you could start over? Devoid of the past. Blank of any existing memory of yesterday and the days before it. What if?"

This is how I started this diary of sorts which I'm calling the Stunted Male In The Land of Egos. You can call it SMILE for short. That's what I intend to be doing everyday anyway.

So much for depth. This is as internal as I can get today. Male, emotionally stunted, physically normal, functioning member of society, working for a living, introvert but extrovert if I weren't stunted.

CURRENTLY WATCHING: