on time, or not

My horoscope had this to say to me yesterday (emphasis mine):

“Doesn't time fly when you are enjoying yourself? And doesn't it drag when you aren't? Time also seems to speed up when we want it to slow down - and to ramble when we wish it would rush. Can we conclude that time is not on our side? Time, ultimately, is an illusion. We treat it with too much reverence. We give it power because we all agree to pretend that it is real. We do something similar with money. In your spirit, though, you know something that matters far more. So, trust that and you will yet solve all difficulties.”

From where I was sitting, it was head-on. I was especially feeling time and its hold on me because a week ago I had decided and announced to the world that I was leaving this blackhole job. It became real to me that freedom wasn’t going to be instant – my last day was still a good month and a half away. Until then I still had to drag my arse (or what’s left of it after all the stress) to work everyday. A lot of the BS is still floating around and in fact I am seeing new versions of it too, if that was even possible. But I am relieved to feel untouched by it. People will always believe their own reality or deny it when something they don’t expect (or fear most) happens. They work around their own rhetoric, most of the time contradicting things they said/say then or now, to compensate for feeling dissed or humiliated when really they don’t need to feel that way. On your end, you know you’ve changed but maybe the rest of the world as you know it hasn’t, and now that you have there was simply no point in doing the same things you do. So you ask for freedom but realize it has its limits. With all that as a background, my attitude today is: they can say whatever the hell they want to say because I am gone, I just need time to cooperate.

Well according to that sage who writes the horoscope - apparently time doesn’t have to. How can it when it doesn’t even exist?

Now I know why some days seem longer or shorter than most. Moments float by carelessly, not timing themselves – only we do that. There must be something to that and I don’t find it hard to imagine that from here on I can start living moment after moment and not look at moments that are tied to hours, days, months, years. I’m freer than I thought I was and knowing that now is inimitably liberating. Besides, there’s more good news here: we are all ageless too.

of self-help books and a concert

In a few days, for at least 30 minutes, I will be speaking in front of a 300-strong crowd. Talking of things of which I find myself being suddenly being called an expert. I feel it is undeserved.

I am scared shitless, excuse my French.

After all, the biggest audience I have presented to is probably in the range of 30-50, way back in high school speech/debate class with such topics to defend or go against like, “To love is to care”. Or this other time when I had to speak extemporaneously for 3 minutes on the topic, “If money grew on trees I would…” Or yet this other time that I’ve had to speak to a crowd of considerable number, was to say a wish for my cousin on her debut as one of the 18 candle holders. Back then I only managed to say a one-liner my relatives would endlessly tease me about afterwards “I wish you will always be happy.” At 12 years old, I was painfully shy - the priority was to get-that-mic-off-my-face-NOW. I figured you can never go wrong when you wish someone happiness. Isn’t that what everyone wants? No? For a while back then I didn’t understand those adults and their matters of consequence, if you get my drift.

Yes, I’ve taken part in recitations and school presentations, or even in my most recent life, presentations to clients, I’ve got a press conference under my belt. But that hardly amounts to a crowd of 300. This is out of my league. I don’t have Deepak Chopra’s confusing philosophical ruminations (I don't want it come to think of it) nor half of Obama’s charm. I never wanted to be Oprah, or worse, Kris Aquino. I am not a talkie. Let’s try another tactic here.

Maybe I need a self-help book. In my mind I see flashes of covers I’ve seen through the years and maybe they will help to calm my nerves.

“Tough Times, Don’t Last… But Tough People Do.” Uhm, this doesn’t help.

“ The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook.” Get me this book, now. On the other hand, let’s not entertain negative thoughts. Down with this book.

“ It Was On Fire When I lay Down On it”. And this explains what? My lack of utter authority to discuss the things I will discuss? Down with this book too.

“How to Lose Friends and Alienate People.” Noooooo, this not what we are aiming for.

"How to Make Friends and Influence People.” Sounds right, but not my style. Too literal.

"What Should I Do With My Life?" Yeah, what should I...

“The Unbearable Lightness of Being.” Great book, yes. I can re-read this many times, but...

Perhaps this isn’t a good idea, I am channeling the sprit of the wrong books. I need to remember past experiences. Times when I succeeded right after I panicked. Times when I worried too much and things turned out fantastically well. Happy times, carefree times…

I think I have one, which might take the cake.

Circa: the 80’s

Venue: Folk Arts Theater

The scenario: 3 little girls prodded by their musikerong tatay to join a Karapatang Pantao protest concert by underground musicians. Singing a Gary Granada song entitled “Magagandang Anak”. We were in our best yagit-inspired outfit (read: dasters) singing our hearts out and seeing nanays and tatays in the crowd weeping. We were believable extras that took the stage without knowing the full implication of performing in THE folk arts theater. When we got off the stage the nanays were hugging us, touching us, making us feel like veritable stars.

Afterwards, we went back to tinkering with the backstage black curtains and all those other interesting things you see backstage -which was really the highlight of our nights. It didn’t matter that we were in the midst of Pinoy rakenrol greats, singing in a venue bigger than our worlds ever looked at that point in time.

Ignorance is bliss.

Now it can’t be that bad right? I survived that performance, what’s a 30-minute presentation on Vietnam’s labor trends (read: boringgg)? I’ll survive Tuesday. I have a plan. And if everything still falls apart I can always break into song –they won’t know what hit them. While I slink away via stage right…or left, straight into a place (a café, a bar, it doesn’t matter) across Hoan Kiem lake, where I will watch the sights and sip my wine. Here a great book comes to mind again, "By the River ...".

Performances like that always need a scenic end.