A morning walk

It's 5:45 in the morning and I was reading a book for my thesis. I had the urge to walk outside. Wearing only a pair of khakis and sando, I went to a nearby 7/11--a staple place for people with nowhere to go in ungodly hours. I bought the first thing that I saw as an excuse: a bag of Chippy. Red. Salty. Good enough. 

Cue few puffs, walking students in lanyards and uniforms, morning sweepers, a lady, another lady with her son, and a girl buying Red Horse 500mL--I was good to go. 

I walked home taking a dimly-lit road. It was cold. February cold. 

I got home, went to my open computer, and stared.

Can't wait for Sagada.

On Observing

Chuck Palahniuk once wrote that the best way to waste one's life is by taking notes and the easiest way to avoid living is just watch. There is some sense in his words as an observer is bound to to live his live relative to the lives of others, but I do not believe that an observer's life is void of its meaning whenever he observes. He sees things that others do not see, feel things that others do not feel, and experience events that others do not and cannot experience. And these perceptions are just his own. Whenever one walks along the streets of Pedro Gil and observes his surroundings, from the wailing jeepneys to the transient people, one creates an alternative dimension--where meanings are endless and experience is unique. Vicarious living is mere self-sensing that creates another version of someone else's experience and makes it his own. 


Quite frankly, I feel I'm most alive when I just watch.