Tuesday, July 19, 2011


It’s time to be serious it seems.

I’ve always lived a carefree life. I never had roots, so to speak. I lived like a twig cast adrift in the raging river, going where the current pulled me. It may sound crazy coming from me but that’s the truth. Everything that I did up to this point in time was done because it was the easiest, most logical thing to do and required the least resistance.

I transferred high school to avoid a sticky academic situation. I chose engineering because it was a hassle to go to the dean to change my course to accounting. I chose chemical engineering because the department head had a beautiful disposition as compared to the mechanical engineering head. I accepted the university teaching post because I had no desire braving the summer heat at the industrial heartland of the lowland plains.

When I fell in love with the technical work in TI, I didn’t fight for my employment because I didn’t want to risk confrontation despite the fact that I loved the job. And I went back to teaching because it was there (though I loved it and would never regret it) and I left teaching because it was becoming unbearable to weather misplaced jibes despite the fact that I really, really loved it. 

I chose to leave the country because I grew tired of its politics and sloth (when the idealist in me wanted to make a difference) and I won’t be going back any time soon because it is easier to ignore the past and its ills rather than to face it head on.

I chose Calgary for undeclared reasons. Actually the reasons are myriad and complicated. It had a thriving oil and gas industry for one (though I wonder myself if I truly want to go into this field now that I am here); I had friends there (which is also true in Toronto, which was my first choice). I don’t know the real reason behind this decision and I probably never will. Maybe I am just following a Greater Power's will.... maybe or maybe not…

I came here without any specific dream in mind to be honest. 'Greener' pastures was a generic term. I had a good job with ample compensation back home then and money, though important was not the primary driving force for all the choices I’ve made so far.  It was interesting and a bit enticing to look at my original salary tripled and quadrupled but the figures are more of a distraction than anything. I can probably buy what I want now, afford a house in a few years and get the material dreams I once longed for: but these are empty aspirations – yearned for because otherwise I’d be purposeless in life.

I got an application to work my license, went to mentorship and immigrant groups to explore my options. I got excited for a bit, went to seminars and workshops but then I got bored… I got lazy. My application is sitting beneath a growing pile of papers now, untouched and unfiled as the time rolls by. My assessment papers are hidden somewhere in the folders that languish at the bottom of a drawer somewhere in my room. The motivation I had before was lost and I am gradually satisfied with my current life, working four long days and loitering at home or at Fishcreek for the other four days. 

I have no purpose, no dream to reach.

Even my writing… which I wanted to pursue has slowly faded. I blog, yes out of boredom, nonsensical compositions at best which might be considered childish and juvenile. 

What do I want in life anyway…

I’ve wondered that myself.

I was ok with being an old bachelor with a small cottage in the mountains with a mountain of books lining the walls and a small farm, an orchidarium and a carpentry shop. I was ok with the notion of dying alone in my bed relying only upon the mercy of strangers and relatives. In fact, to be honest, I entertained the idea of taking my own life when I reach the ripe old age when I can no longer get myself to the bathroom. Heaven or hell, I didn’t care. Though I loved God and wished for heaven, I was also ok with just fading away into nothingness. I’ve got nothing to lose.

Having a family was a luxury I could not afford. Yeah, at certain moments I wanted to have a family and imagined having a family but that was the extent of it. The women I want to spend my life with didn’t want me for a variety of reasons so I believed that perhaps it was not for me. I contemplated on adopting when I grow to be thirty eight to have a reason to live, maybe save enough money to pay a girl to be artificially inseminated to conceive a child (that’s how my mind worked).Foolish dreams, they are...

Romance, or the notion of romance was a lot of work. Truth is, I am afraid of women. After getting rejected for superficial reasons as far as I could remember, one tends to get scared of them. I don’t know what is ‘yes’ and ‘no’ anymore. I am probably the most stupid and ‘dense’ man in the world and I would not be surprised if women get turned off by my lack of initiative. I am gripped by terror at the mere notion of love. I can’t follow through even if the pain and desire grows to the breaking point.

And I probably would never confess if I liked someone. I’d just be smiling and watching and see them go to other more courageous men. I’d probably even congratulate them on their marriage even when what I want is to say ‘I object!’. That’s how I am. A stupid, cowardly fool…

So I guess I’m gonna be alone…

But it’s time to be serious, it seems. 

I will still probably be afraid of women. And I’ll make stupid decisions to this end that will drive women away. I’ll regret it, of course, in silence. I’ll wish for their… your happiness… in this life.

And maybe my decision to be serious will be fleeting coz I don’t know how I am as a serious guy. But I’ll get that form out of my files and send it on its way. I’m completing my documents for university assessment. I’m no longer satisfied at working my ass off in a lab for the next twenty or so years just because it has good pay.

And I have opened the folder in my files that contains my unfinished novels and I’ve chosen one that I will strive to finish. In time, I will attempt to become a full fledged writer and a poet.

And that’s your legacy to me. I will always have you to thank for that.

I don’t know where this road will take me. I don’t know whether you will be in it or you’ll be somewhere else. Whatever happens, I want you to know this. Of all the people in this world, you made me rethink my life and for that, for better or for worst, you will always have my thanks and you will always be special in my heart.

We don’t chose who we like or who changes us for the better. We don’t have a say in it. It just happens… one cannot teach a heart to love… It is maybe too much for me to write this now and it will probably present a terrible predicament for you. If I hurt you, I am very sorry. If it is too sudden, I am again, truly sorry. This, this is probably my confession of sorts (I know that I should be saying it to you in person, but I can’t do that… because I’ll melt…)

I won’t ask for your answer. As much as I’d love the finality of a formal rejection (or the remote possibility of the opposite), allow me to be left with the knowledge of not knowing. Take pity on a fragile poet’s heart and pretend that you’ve never read this.

Give me friendship at least and share a few smiles and a few walks in the park. Give me the illusion of being part of your life. 

I’ll be crying in silence when you will get married someday (and you will). When the priest will ask ‘Does anyone object?’ I’ll be trembling in my seat but I won’t be standing up.
But know this: you are and will always be truly loved… until the last of my breath and my existence. 

Live a good life. Life is chaotic and also frighteningly beautiful. Someday you will meet a man who will be what you are to me: a gift from God who will make you feel alive. You will love him and God willing, he will love you. You will be happy and have great kids together and spend the rest of your days in happy contemplation. I want to be that man, of course but I know my limitations. But someday, he will come, your knight in shining armor.

I pray that he does.

Poets are tragic creatures. They live and die with only their words and their compositions. They have in their minds a nameless lady who inspires them to write such great lyrics and pieces. Once, that lady on my mind was nameless. Now, she has a name. Someday, when and if I get to publish something and you look at the dedication page and you see a name emblazoned for all to see and it says after ‘for giving me the reason to live in full’, know that it is referring to you even when the name before is imaginary.

This post will be buried in other posts that will come later until it is forgotten by all who read it except for me.

And this is not a work of fiction…


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