Longing for old habits
Time is irrelevant. There’s only now.
The idea came up amid the calmness of a nearly empty coffee shop where I sit comfortably: I just spent some hard-earned P200 on a coffee-free drink, despite making a commitment to myself to spend less than that in a day, all in the name of self-love.
I was thinking about the most recent — not recent at all, actually — meet-up I’ve had with my good friend, Razel Estrella. Was it last year? The one before then? I can’t remember. What I vividly recall, though, is a brief discussion we had about our goals and plans for the coming year.
More important than making a list of resolutions, for me, is deciding on a power word or a theme for the new year. Whichever word I choose will set the direction of my life, at least in the year that follows.
I may have told Razel how I yearned to be back at reading the printed word, to sniff the tangible pages of books, to be daunted by the sharp edges of a piece of paper, to immerse myself in new worlds I would never discover elsewhere.
I wanted to read more. To read again.
As I sip my iced hazelnut drink, carefully plotting how to “budget” the last few pages left in the book I’m reading only now but had bought two years or so ago, I was overcome with the need to tell Razel: “Look at me now, and be proud. I’ve been reading more; I’m doing what I've always wanted to do.”
That’s what matters: the now. Who cares if our dinner at Icebergs happened last year or a year before then? The memory lingers. I’m transported to that time and space. And that experience fuses with tonight’s. •
The idea came up amid the calmness of a nearly empty coffee shop where I sit comfortably: I just spent some hard-earned P200 on a coffee-free drink, despite making a commitment to myself to spend less than that in a day, all in the name of self-love.
I was thinking about the most recent — not recent at all, actually — meet-up I’ve had with my good friend, Razel Estrella. Was it last year? The one before then? I can’t remember. What I vividly recall, though, is a brief discussion we had about our goals and plans for the coming year.
More important than making a list of resolutions, for me, is deciding on a power word or a theme for the new year. Whichever word I choose will set the direction of my life, at least in the year that follows.
I may have told Razel how I yearned to be back at reading the printed word, to sniff the tangible pages of books, to be daunted by the sharp edges of a piece of paper, to immerse myself in new worlds I would never discover elsewhere.
I wanted to read more. To read again.
As I sip my iced hazelnut drink, carefully plotting how to “budget” the last few pages left in the book I’m reading only now but had bought two years or so ago, I was overcome with the need to tell Razel: “Look at me now, and be proud. I’ve been reading more; I’m doing what I've always wanted to do.”
That’s what matters: the now. Who cares if our dinner at Icebergs happened last year or a year before then? The memory lingers. I’m transported to that time and space. And that experience fuses with tonight’s. •