There’s that pleasant, cooling sensation of the wind as you look out of the window of a half-filled jeepney. It’s the kind of peace you get when reality peels you away from your desk and your head. There’s just so many mess and gunk inside of you, much more annoying than the sweaty shoulders of the person who just sat next to you. The tattered cushioned bench creaks a little. Human breaths. You hear voices and you see faces as bodies positioned themselves somewhere in this old, traditional transportation. It’s a great way to divert your brain from all those words cluttered in the corner, wanting to fall, wanting to come to life. After all, you only have two hands and ten fingers and 24 hours a day. You can’t always write. You have to live. You have to be human. This week reminded me that. Not to mention, an adult.

I am not fond of going out. I’m not even fond of moving out from my chair. As far as I’ve remembered, I have spent most of my days sitting with my backbones cracking and my fingers flicking and my eyes getting vertigo because of too much strain. I have digested and spewed words only to erase them again and start once more. These are my people; letters. Alphabets. Non-breathing things. I think this makes human encounters very, very delightful, because it happens ever so seldom.

The humans I met this week were marvelous, to say at least. I don’t know them. I didn’t even asked for their names. But somehow, our less-than-hour encounters reminded me that God made encounters for a reason. It may not be significant, but little things add up. After all, the small dots of stars, millions of light years away, have no idea they are being gazed upon in this side of the universe.

I got the chance to exert more effort than I have ever did and felt proud about it, simply because all my life, I have been that privileged, middle-class bitch who has gotten everything she wanted without working hard. No, I don’t have an office rank or even a good professional name to stick before my real moniker. I just lived my life the way I wanted to and got accepted for it with brimming, forgiving love. Yes, you have the right to call me a first-rate, selfish brat.

So this week, I chose not be a brat. I chose to walk under the sun and find my way through the maze called adulthood and work it. And the people I met gladly welcomed me with help; well, they’re being paid for it. But on the good side, they were friendly enough to put some heart into their work. I was very grateful.

God taught me two things this week. One, I learned not to ask for everything to be solved. At once. Instead, I learned to ask Him to enable me to push through, no matter what, until this errand is over. Wednesday was the climax. I became the most unlikely. I surprised myself. I did my best efforts but as I sat on my little space in that long jeepney on my way home, I realized that my work isn’t done. Yet. I was too tired. When I got home, exhausted and sleepy from travel and worries, I headed to bed with a heavy heart, but my soul whispered to me, “Rest now. Rest today. You can be disappointed and frustrated and kick your shoes off and start a tantrum. But a few days from now, you will be up again, re-charged, ready to take on the challenge.”

I slept. I woke up and watched a Project Runway rerun. And when I headed to my laptop that afternoon to at least try what might be possible, I learned lesson number two.

It is possible.

You know, I could not describe the feeling of relief when I sent the file and gotten my email back. My heart felt like it melted. And smiled. And made that long aww face at the God who guided me the entire day through. One thorn plucked out of my neck. The rest would be easy from here.

That thorn was an entire year of recklessness. I tell you, I bypass reality too much. I hate offices. I hate laws. I hate circumstances telling me to do this and that to live properly. I am a nomad and a poet and an artist. We should not be bound. Early last year, all I was praying for was to get a schengen visa. I never bothered to look at my other responsibilities. Unfortunately, those responsibilities, despite being folded and tucked underneath a dusty chest inside my mind’s attic, comes crawling back to life. Like ghosts. I make lots of them, frankly.

This week, I decided to face my ghost bravely and with brevity. God gave me that push, a kind of push that won’t let you stop until you get to where you’re going. My road is clearer now. Those ghosts will forever be alive, but I’m not afraid. I’m now smart enough not to make any more of them.

Well, I actually wanted to write this post to celebrate my blog’s new layout and logo! It’s cool, crisp, clean, and I love the big images! I hope you’re liking it as much as I do. x, C.