the plane is suspended in midair, stay put or kill yourself

i was talking to my university classmate lorie (who is now temporary residing in a posh neighbourhood in london working for Ernst & Young) who agreed that it seems very inherent for unmarried people our age to start feeling like we do not exactly know where we are going, short term. we know where we are going eventually (e.g. we know exactly if we want to get married or not, or which step in the corporate ladder we are targetting in ten years time).

it was the midrange planning that is a blur.

it is like being in a plane that is suspended in midair, i told her. you know the destination, you just have no idea when you’ll get there. so for the meantime, you stay put inside the plane. what else is there to do? there’s a very limited list of activities one can do inside the plane.

(ironically, i have the same drift of conversation with david more or less the same time. the suspended plane theory, however, didn’t do so well with us. he went to bed pissed at me for being such a bitch -of which i probably was- and i charge it to cultural gap. come to think of it, every arguments we will be having can always be charge to cultural differences. it is quite an easy shock absorber machine.)

” i mean,” i continued typing to lorie, “what else is there to do? u eat, u sleep, u read, u watch movies, u talk to the same group of people who are also in the same state as you are. people who are physically there but not really there. a very senseless exercise.”

“you sound like giov”. she replied. giov is another classmate of ours who share the same birthdate with me, who is a year older than me, but have already earned his doctorate in “PITA and damn successful cause of it” degree. do not get me wrong; i do not admire the guy but he is really something. “we all seem to have the same concerns inspite of being in different state.”

it must be a law of the universe (i do not believe that crap- but i cannot contest it at this point either).

my life is as unorderly as my bedroom now. but unlike my bedroom where i can pay my housekeeper to fix it for me, my life will stay in such condition until i, myself, will move my ass and do something about it.

yesterday, foo came to my apartment at one in the afternoon, his towel on his shoulder. (he lives just right next door.)

“where’s the light?”

“gone.” i told him. “meralco said it doesnt have enough energy to light the entire metropolitan area so theyre cutting back power on selected areas for selected times.”

“fuck.” he swore and took a seat.

“don’t you have a job?”

we both have jobs; we are in fact very surprised why we still have it, considering how many times we lost count of our unplanned absences.

“i gotta find a new one.” he said. “do you have food? i am hungry.”

“there’s spaghetti.” i answered. “help yourself.”

i swung my left leg on the sofa arm.

what else is there to do? the plane is suspended in midair. grabbing the lifejacket and opening the emergency exit will not get me to my destination quick.

escapes often do not. so what is there to do?

and so, we wait.


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