Saturday, September 6, 2014

The bedrock of my life

This is a quick post to say, I have returned to blogging. For a very long period of time, in fact three quarters of a this year 2014, I did not even lay my eyes on this piece of cyberspace. Now, here I am blogging.

There are just two things I want to write about. First, I need to acknowledge how much I have engaged in self-loathing for much of the year. I did not accept myself as me, as Pancho, who is now single, gay, eccentric in so many ways. I felt that since I was single here in grad school, it must be that somehow there was something wrong with me. Now, I finally have come to understand I am a perfectly fine as a gay man, though I am different to so many of them, I am fine as a Catholic too and as a student as well. One day I will meet my beau and there will be sparks that will set my love alight. Till then, I just need to keep on praying and believing. As the journey song goes 'don't stop believin'. I remember clearly singing that in 2009, with my graduating class, on Blair arch steps in Princeton. Now I remember and it is so grand. Fills me with so much love.

The next thing is to remember is how a good meal is the bedrock of my day. It allows me to move from there to planning my day , in the morning, to doing my exercise, which I combine with prayer and all that I need in the day. And when the day is done, dinner brings me back to life. Need I not mention the fact I pray before I eat and the intimate connections I make with those who share meals with me.
I have become accustomed to reading and eating. Often, great ideas come to mind, but often it is just superfluous reading. I rather eat with someone else.

So here I am, after dinner, writing in my blog. Before dinner I felt so stressed, but now I feel renewed. Listening to that Journey song cover by "the Nerds", a present for my birthday in 2008 (I turned 22) in Princeton really helped me feel better.

Thank you Lord. I pray I can still keep this good feeling. When I feel sad, I will remember this.

Pancho

1 comment:

  1. Here I am writing a post in January 2018: It is about going back to Graduate School:
    UNSW2018Backup!
    Yet there is no back up to taking up the offer for the PhD. All the pieces are falling into place and I should leave as soon as I have my visa.
    Christian, from Germany, who once worked as scholarship officer for the German Academic Exchane Office and I ran into each other today. He told me that he saw the US embassy position - Senior Public Health something or the other - the last time we met up, last year. In response, I smiled and told him, with much appreciation in my voice, that I knew. And then I had to tell him, that I was going to do my PhD in public health and that it would be more interesting than sitting in meetings. We both lamented how tiresome bureaucracy can be. I nonetheless countered this dismissive talk of work in public service by adding something is learnt - how to get research into policy and practise. And by so doing, I acknowledge I may be moving away from this, at least for my PhD, unless my topic focuses on this aspect of public health.
    I told him I would be going to Australia and after the expected-eye opening exclamation of surprise he asked:
    “You have a place already there, where you are going?”
    “Yeah I do” I responded
    “So then you don’t even need to apply for the job, you just go do your PhD.”
    My fears, then came to the surface and I knew there were irrational. I told him I had this fear something could happen and I would need a back up.
    “What could happen?” he asked with that look that is not so much as puzzled as surprised at one’s interlocutor. I could not then state my fear, that of one or both parents dying - though I have no reason to believe it will be soon - and having to take over the assets. This irrational fear of course is just that irrational. On a deeper level, my worry may be that I would earn greater approval from my dad, at least, from taking a high paying job than chasing this academic one. Well, that too is questionable. I believe my dad wants me to be happy, rather than just mediocre.
    And then walking out of the shop, I went to the pawn shop where I was with a friend who was selling her clothes line before she left Namibia. For her life is about finding the calling. And hers is to teach yoga the beach of a town in South Africa. I am inspired by her authenticity. She is honest with herself and following the calling. Now, what am I called to do again...

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