Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda

Having been born, raised (and made!) in Alaska, it was literally a dream come true for me when I had the opportunity to live in Manila for less than 2 years. My only regret though was that hubby and I didn't travel the country as much as we should have--could have and would have-- had we known we'd be leaving for the States a year and a half into our marriage. Palawan, Cebu, Baguio, Samar -- so many places we had yet to experience! And it's when you're far and away from your surroundings do you start to wish you'd done the things you should have when you were already there. And I highly doubt we'd ever go back to the Philippines to live -- I was so anxious to get out as it was, LOL. But oh, how I've yet to experience every part of my parents' homeland (and err, my husband's!).

My Lakbayan grade is C-!

How much of the Philippines have you visited? Find out at Lakbayan!

My Favorite Poem.

My Heart Leaps Up

My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky.

So was it when my life began;

So is it now I am a man;

So be it when I grow old,

Or let me die!

The Child is father of the Man;

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety.

-William Wordsworth

****

Don’t you just love that line, “The Child is father of the Man”? I love that.

It scares me to think about going back to college, much as I want to finish my degree. Everyone is going to be so much younger than me. And I remember how even I thought to myself how older students were such losers for going to college so late. It just wouldn’t be the same. But then again, I’m not there to hang with the coolest crowds or to sit in the cafeteria and make friends or compare notes. I’m not there to be “accepted.” It’d be just a, “I’m in, then I’m out” kind of thing, as I head back to a life where I run a household. At the same time, how empowering to finally grab that gosh darn diploma that serves as… well, nothing really. Everything that matters to me in this world is right here in my home — my husband and daughter.

But still. Still trying to figure out how we could accomplish all the things we — E and I — want to achieve. E would like to go back to school and study computers. And I’m very supportive of that. And hey, if I can finish my college degree, maybe then I could finally, finally move towards my real dream of working with hair. But I must, must finish my college degree. Financial aid, where are you? :D.

What ifs?

Jane got me thinking of what ifs today.

I don’t like to think I have any regrets in life. I’ve always believed everything that happens in life brings you closer to where you ought to be.. or where you’re meant to go. But even still, sometimes a moment will remind me of something really dear to me and I’ll get this tiny stab in my heart and well, my mind drifts to what could have been.

No, I am not talking about some past lover.

Playing the piano. I’ve never mentioned this before but I used to play the piano in my past life. I loved it more than books and short stories. It was the one thing in the world where I could escape and I was (brace yourself for the corniness that lies ahead) one with the music.. the chords.. the melody.. the climax.. the everything. Just thinking about it now almost puts me in an emotional state. I remember just today, while driving, hearing a piano version of “It Might Be You.” My heart hurt and once again, I was reminded of my past life where I could escape to the one place that no one else could be a part of with me — the piano. It pains me even more, presently, when I run my fingers across the keys and my fingers have no reaction — almost as if they’ve reached foreign land. Imagine that feeling — something you lived for, in every moment you were in it/there with it 100%, the way a glove fits your hand and then… when you seek some sort of affirmation that there’s still a connection and sadly, there ends up being none, imagine that. Hubby tells me I could always go back to it but no, he doesn’t understand. It would be so hard to go back to the piano. My fingers don’t sway with the keys like they once did in the past. My eyes don’t see the notes as clearly as before. It is all so foreign to me. I don’t feel the connection at all.

And so my piano just sits. In our living room. And it is the same piano from when I started at 3 or 4 years old. I told my mom she could will everything to my sister so long as I got my piano. It was shipped from Alaska to California. Corny, I told you.

It’s even cornier when I say I miss performing for a crowd. I miss recitals, I miss choosing a piece and presenting it in a version that becomes my own. It’s a special thing when you’re up on stage. The greatest high, especially when the journey is done, and you realize you have a crowd in front of you (with their loud applause) and you’re wondering where the hell they came from — only to be reminded that they were there with you all along. And it’s an even greater high when you perform something you’ve put your soul into and when you look into the crowd for some sort of confirmation they understood your meaning, they’re standing for you. Life doesn’t get any sweeter than that. I could live on stage and in those moments forever.

I am a coward. A coward because I choose not to chase my dream and see where being a pianist might have brought me. A coward because I didn’t stand up for the one thing that was special to me. And an even bigger asshole for ending my relationship with the piano over something so entirely stupid, immature and just plain dumb.

Again, like I said, hubby says I could always go back to playing again. I don’t agree. I’ve lost so much along the way. Let me be a coward and take my pride instead. Besides, I’m only human — and we all must have at least one ‘what if’ in life.