:: Tears of the Moon ::

:: Saturday, April 15, 2006 ::

Happy Easter!

Seasons of Love.

A year, after all, is five hundred, twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. Unlike others who plan their year on December 31, or January 1, this is normally the time when I review the year before, and the months ahead. I figure it's much more appropriate given the spirit of Lent and Easter Sunday to look at things in a fresh new light, and the past with a lot more clarity.

So, where did that bring me?

Last year, I think I irrevocably damaged something I held very very dear. I don't know how to fix it. How do you fix relationships? If it takes two people, how do you prop up your end, not knowing if the other person still wants to fix theirs? Do we have another five hundred, twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes ahead?

I did better at work. My salary got better, for the workload I was given. And my boss left, so I took her place. On my watch, we've promoted one supervisor, four team leads, a dozen people to become escalation agents, and another dozen to different departments. Not bad for a company struggling to put together a recognizable organizational development scheme. I have vets who've been with the team for a year or more. The client's happy, and we finished the first quarter well.

Things became comically confusing with guys: New Office Guy (loss), Coffeemaker (it's complicated), Kat's officemate (dud), Coffeemaker's officemates (loss), Dom's friend (interesting). I feel like I've jumped out of hyperspace and caught myself in a skirmish without knowing. Jumped out of hyperspace hibernation and I don't know what the hell I got myself into. It's confusing. But the kind of confusion that distracts me from drowning in workaholism.

Workaholic. I got micro-sick several times because of the stress, and work became my life. I hardly went out, hardly did things outside work-related stuff. Couldn't go to movies with the Fellowship, didn't get to see enough of my friends. I guess I was trying to match my boss' hours at that time: she (as far as I know) didn't have anything going for her except her sheer focus on our program. That's all she thought of, talked about, cared for, did. I can't be like that. I refuse to be like that. I don't want this year to end feeling empty socially, physically, spiritually. Work, as much as I love my team and my program, cannot be the focus of my life. I must have a sense of detachment, so that I can learn to move on. At the end of the day, I don't want to come home to my parents, take a shower, crash into bed so that I can wake up and do everything all over again.

Dad got caught in an accident, where a little slip would've meant that his back would be broken. Acie's dad died a few weeks ago. Mom got sick several times last year. It made me understand in a very real way of my parents' mortality. That, sometime in the future, the three of us will have to deal with that. And if we have families of our own at that time, all of us would need each other to survive. It's a shocking thing for a child to realize that their parents' are not invincible. That they're human, they get sick, they become helpless. I'm grateful that it happened to us, and we're all adults (and Bryan just about to be). I can't imagine how it would feel like to be a child, confronting a parent's terminal illness or disability. Mom went with me to Acie's dad's wake, and she told me it's like she saw how the three of us are going to have to deal with it: Ace made all the arrangements for the funeral, the wake, the hospitalization. Even the behind-the-scenes stuff like identifying the body at the morgue, the embalming process, going to city hall for the death certificate, the doctors, contacting the family. The fact that Ace's dad died of lung cancer didn't help: Dad's a chronic smoker. (The reason why none of his children want to take up smoking: we get it secondhand at home anyway, so why bother?)

The rest of the year looks good. My closest friends are getting all coupled up. I wish them all well, and it's just about time, I guess. We're all not built for frivolous relationships. So, we're all the kind who'll be single a long time, and then be committed a long time. Which is probably why the Getting to Know You part of it is a long drawn-out period. I need to be whole on my own, so that I don't inflict my baggage on someone else. I don't know if I'm ready, but I'm a whole lot more mature than where I was five years ago.

I want to live my life. I don't want to get myself sick because of work-related stress. I'll go out more often. And I'll probably agree to go out with J more, not just because he's an interesting person, but also to get my head of of being frustrated by the immovable force that is the Coffeemaker (damn you).

We got ourselves a car, and I signed myself up for a savings-related insurance. Bryan's going to college. This is also the year where my funds are really going to be allocated: no more impulsive shopping for me. :) I'm glad, really, because I've put myself into a situation where hey, I really am a grownup. Where I'll be planting seeds and will be seeing something grow out of it in the next few years. I have to start somewhere, right? I don't want to keep on living a grasshoper life.

The sibs and I are also in a stage where we can start going out on our own. I can't wait for what this year will bring for the rest of us. The three of us can drive the car, and Bryan can drink! We've had a good year, the three of us on movie dates, shopping, concerts. They're my constant gimmick buds. I am constantly amazed at Bryan's depth (and humor) when we discuss things, and Chi's moments of sobriety and foresight when I ask her for advice.

The intentions in my prayer are much more streamlined than where they were three years ago. On one hand, it kinda sucks that this kind of clarity comes after three/four years of prayer. And I know I'm nowhere near where I want to be. But then again, it's God's time, not mine, right? Again, I'm nowhere near where I want to be, but I'm better off than where I was before.

Where do I want to be? I want to travel. I want to get back to school. I realize that while I can possibly map them out in a semi-concrete way, I can't lock them in and be frustrated if it doesn't happen. I want to get back to school, but then Chi's taking her MBA and Bryan's in college - I can't right now. Soon, yes, but not immediately. I'm fine with that. Just the same way that I'm fine with buying a car the moment Chi and I had enough funds (within a five-day period) to put in a downpayment for a car loan that will lock us for the next three years. Change happens, and I'm learning that it's okay to be flexible. If things work out the way I hope they will be, I'll probably get to the States sooner than I thought, through means that I've never imagined possible. Or maybe Coffeemaker will fall out of bed one day and pick up the pace. It could happen. But I'm not going to freak if it doesn't. Because other things come around that I've never really expected, and they turned out for the good: my new boss (yes), the decision to stay instead of leaving the office, picking one girl over another for the supervisor position.

So. Five hundred, twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes ahead.

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In diapers, report cards, in spoke wheels, in speeding tickets
In contracts, dollars, in funerals, in births.
In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes -
how do you figure a last year on earth?
Figure in love
Figure in love. Measure love.
Seasons of love. Seasons of love.

:: D said @ 2:47 PM [+] ::
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