I remembered to greet you, Jairus. But in all honesty, I thought I was running out of clever things to say so I decided to put it off. I suppose you tire of flowery vocabulary and fabricated creativity when you are happy and content. Smug in a newfound coven of complacency. There's the sound of a comfortable, satisfying buzz.
We are almost forty. I was flattered, rather superficially, when a new high school student asked about our age and said that we looked like we were in our 20s. There's the sound of a truly old man.
D. says that it comes naturally, upon reaching this age of ours, to flirt with the idea of doing bigger contributions to society. That's been on my mind, even if I also consider myself a kind of underachiever. We didn't really bother competing so we defaulted on being an achiever. Perhaps the real winners are those who quit the corporate rat race. There's the sound of a confused, humble brag.
I suppose, at this certain age, we start to trim down our cravings to just genuine relationships and experiences. No fancy cars, or European tours or Rockwell condominiums. We've fully developed our capacity to care for others, even for our country. We've laughed so much, we wouldn't mind self-deprecating just to laugh some more. There's the sound of someone who flicked on a light bulb.
In reality, those genuine relationships, experiences and regard for others are extremely difficult to come by. I just made a playlist named
Fake Jazz Bar because I couldn't be in a real jazz bar in Shinjuku or Quezon City. Most days, I'm running on the treadmill instead of on the ground. I read more electronic books instead of paper ones, flip through digital magazines. I teach/tutor remotely as a virtual presence to students in another country. Sometimes you long to connect with people you care for but your fingers just end up spending an awful lot of time fudging through fake lives lived in social media with all their tourist-ey experiences, purchases, even more god-awful politics, that's liked by fake friends. There's the sound of bitterness and honesty.
But don't draw the wrong conclusions about us, Jairus. Everyday, we are surrounded by so much genuineness, love, laughter and a literal togetherness. After a year of self-training, I. has taken strides in his piano skills. V. expresses herself in dances and songs, and is beautiful as a splendid ray of light that falls on us everyday. There's the sound of home.
While I never want to leave home, I've developed a travel itch. (Does that count as a good irony?) More than going places and gaining experiences, we've reached a certain age where we keep fewer and fewer connections to people while we want to accept and return kindness.
The world has been kind to us, Jairus. There is no other way to reciprocate, and that means having to agitate that comfortable, satisfying buzz.
We are of a certain age, Jairus. We are finally certain.
