I want to be a wilderness explorer, someday.

Sometimes, it scares me that I’m acting way beyond my age.  I’m just 21, yet I feel so old. Almost everyone in the office thinks I'm a waste-of-time-to-talk-to dude, typecasting me as an out-of-this-world weirdo, so I'm forced to act what I am not.  My work — everything about it demands maturity and stepping beyond myself.

Sometime I wonder how small I am compared to this world. Is it a matter of numerical value? *photo was taken in our Pinatubo trek last January, where we traversed a colossal sand corridor which would collapse anytime. 

“Byron, do you have plans of being a CEO someday?”

I was taken aback by the question thrown by  a friend, who, like me, asks out-of-the-blue queries.

“No” I said.
 “I have no plans of getting into the managerial side of everything. I'm too inconsistent for that.” I added.

“Most young people would say otherwise.” she said.

“Honestly, I’d rather be a professor-cum-architect someday,” pointing it out matter-of-factly.

Or a wilderness explorer — I thought to myself.

You see, I am leading a very complicated life at the moment.  Time passes swiftly and the recent past just seems so distant.  I feel that my youth is slowly slipping away from me. The great responsibility lying on my shoulders sometimes becomes overwhelming.

No, my problems are not of myself.  I do not worry about finances.  Being single-at-my-age bothers me least. In fact, this is a point where love, even just the thought of it, seems elusive.

I sat in a mentos-shaped bench, somewhere in the chain of urban parks in Makati CBD, while my companions are talking about things that really matter. But who is to say what things really matter are?

I was a mere spectator, listening to these people’s arguments.  They discussed peace, war, Mindanao, local tourism, Chief Justice Corona and several humanitarian efforts on the ground. I looked through the mirror of water created after the heavy rain and thought for a moment what could have been with life had I chose a different way?

I wouldn’t know, really.

I hope that this writing would not be misconstrued as a sign of discontent, or another symptom of my commitment-phobic nature.

No, I am not complaining about my work. I love it and I learn so much from it.  Maybe I haven’t just reconciled to the idea that this is happening too soon.

Sometimes it makes me wonder if there are still things in store for me in the future — would I choose to remain in the same state. Once, I tried to delay, but it seems that no matter what I do, I’m still being led to this. I guess this is just a bittersweet realization that with the life I chose, I need not think of myself this often.

So for now, I need to be selfless to a great extent.

Delusions

One thing I've tempered a lot as I've aged is "criticism." No, I don't mean avoiding criticizing political arguments or figures, but easing up on criticizing people I meet or things I encounter. For instance, I used to be much more opinionated about movies or art, eviscerating things I thought were wrongheaded or poorly done. Now I realize that to create anything is difficult and a real accomplishment, and I tend to limit my thoughts to "not my cup of tea" or simply avoid things that are not my style. I don't criticize how other people lead their lives, or raise their children, or spend their money, or how they shave or why don't they comb their hair; even if it's in the form of a joke: to each his own has pretty much been my mantra (unless it hurts someone else), and I find myself much happier for not being so judgmental. Who am I to judge others all the time when I am hardly perfect?