“The world is not a wish-granting factory.”
So I’ve heard.
Today, when I view my life in retrospect, I wish I could just throw in a couple of rainbows to view it in technicolor. Maybe add a dancing elephant, or a kid blowing bubbles and laughter. Just laughter. Instead, what I get is the sound of a bell, the sound of my father calling. A reprimand or an order, a request or a question, maybe a reminder.
I wish I could enjoy the afternoon breeze as I walk through the busy streets with a smile on my face, knowing that I am doing what I really, really want to do. Instead, I don’t go out because of the heat, and sure, I smile, out of courtesy or habit. I want what I do but I’m getting tired of it. I don’t want to keep writing until I throw up so I want to stop before it gets bad. A pending article on Executive Director’s message for their 25th anniversary is what I get instead. I’m on paragraph 2.
I wish I could sleep – jeeez I wish I could. I wish I could just enjoy the cold, the quiet, the peace without the sound of my own voice inside my head. I wish I could have the time to introduce my back to my soft bed and hug the warmth that my comforter offers. I wish I could shun away the worries of the day and just snore my work away. Instead, I dream about all the things that still needs to be done. And I wake up thinking about deadlines and the things that still needs to be done. So I shower, get dressed and do the things that needs to be done.
I wish I could have this and that, but instead, I have savings and insurance and stocks to pay for. I gather the bills can’t pay for themselves.
I wish I could get out with friends or surf at Baler, or attend a wedding. But I get stuck in front of my computer instead.
Probably Shakespeare was right when he said it is not the fault of our stars, but we have nothing and no one but ourselves to blame for every action, every word ever spoken or every emotion we feel, even.
I chose this job and I chose to stay. I chose not to write and I chose to stay up late for 5 days. I chose not to go to Baler and not attend the wedding, or even my friend’s dad’s wake.
But then again, there are things I did not choose. There are events I have no say at all. These are events I did not want to happen, circumstances that don’t require decisions – only reactions. I did not choose for my dad to meet an accident, nor did I choose for me to meet people. I did not choose to meet you.
For everything else, we can always blame the stars. Our paths crossed, and there is a certain kind of comfort in the thought that we have the stars to blame.