My thoughts go into terrible knots like traffic in Metro Manila. How far will tennis sensation Alex Eala reach in the global stage or will the Golden State Warriors be able to snatch more wins on the road, to how chaste really is virgin coconut oil, to will an old man like me garner a million subscribers by dancing on Tiktok? Could I pivot to big wealth and build a Santorini-like mansion that has a fantastic view of lake within a volcano within a lake?
Hindi ba kayo rin, nagkakaroon ng mga masalimuot na palaisipan paminsan-minsan? O madalas? Your fears interfere with your dreams. And you question the lines of fate, where you ask whether certain decisions in the past, such as your choice of college course or the choice of a life partner, become inextricable predicates to your present state – celebratory or otherwise. In your most vulnerable moments, you may even venture into existential questions such as what for is life and should you even care to react to the stupidity of your nation’s leaders when you are worried about the longevity of your sex life.
After two years of uncertainty, the traffic in Metro Manila is going back to its nightmarish condition. The skyline in Malolos is now etched with silhouettes of overhead rails for trains that will go to Pampanga. Portions of the golf grounds of the Veteran’s Hospital have been dug up for the subway system. Big business is tearing through farm lands to build expressways in Laguna to Cavite. On, beneath, above the surface the routes are going, like a maze. Like my thoughts. If Jolly Benitez was alive and Imelda Marcos was still young and radiant, they would have annexed CALABARZON and Bulacan for their galactic concept of MegaManilapolis.
But the roar of big bikes, whose riders find joy by bunching in groups and feel compelled to overtake other vehicles, startle one from his reverie into confronting the mundane, the here and now. Right now, even with lack of sleep, I have to stay awake in my car, for fear that the driver might once again fail to read his Google Map and we get lost. I cannot fire him because he is a courteous, honest, and trustworthy fellow – much better qualities than skills. But wait! What will happen to Toni and Alex? Will the Maharlika Funds be used as a laundromat?
As I write this, two book projects landed on my lap. Add to that is another book that I wasn’t supposed to write but had to take on to save some skins. Then there is the excitement to set up a video studio in San Pablo, and the challenge of conducting a nationwide info campaign. My neurons are going on a hyperdrive. Thoughts are streaming and clashing like raging rivers. Honking at each other. Perhaps they want to expunge themselves within my system to give way to fresh ideas. These could be lonely. Weariness sets in like blues in a woman after pregnancy despite the giggles of an infant. But these are mannah from Heaven - we accept them with grace and gratitude.