Walking on Water: The Resurrection

After nearly eight months of dormancy, I’m back. I’d like to believe that the fact that I am writing on this blog again means that I’ve finally settled into the new life that I’ve chosen for myself. The rolling stone that I had once been now decides to stay still in a corner for awhile and gather moss, just a little bit of it, maybe to have a semblance of stability in my life, to say that I too have a home somehow. People who know me well enough are probably chuckling by now. Jean is never the type to stay still. Oh well, let’s see. Maybe gravity or some force stronger than it will hold me into a quiet corner finally, maybe for good. We’ll see.

The last eight months have been a blur. It was blurry because of the storms, the many hurdles and rites of passage that I had to endure to be able to arrive at where I am now. And where I am now is just a small white-tiled office, with a steel examining table on my right, and a cheap glass-topped table under my old laptop as my desk. I have all the luxury of time to ponder on everything I’ve been through. Being the frustrated writer that I am, I have always imagined great novels out of the events of my life, with matching musical score, no matter how mundane these events might be. Writing has always afforded me a semblance of order in my otherwise disordered existence. And excitement! When the practical side of me gets reminded of the monotone of my uninspired life, I seek to write in order to create a different world, a world where there is color and music and tears. Everything I go through becomes a material for a great story that I dream to write one day. Hence everything – the sleeping in call rooms on chairs, on empty hospital beds, on couches, on treadmills, the 100-mile per day bus rides, the riding on tricycles, the 30-peso meals – these are just part of the ebb and flow of a glorious plot where I’m the main protagonist.

Fantasies aside, let me get to the meat of things – the things that my readers would want to read about. Maybe you’d like to hear about the turmoils of starting a private practice, tips on how to survive in a dog-eat-dog-world without having to be a carnivore yourself, how to transform from an absolute couch-potato to a 10K runner in 6 months, how to be the Queen of the dreaded Friend Zone and end up unscathed, well, hopefully). Yes, yes. I promise I’ll write about them. Soon, but not today. Not yet. Let’s just presume that I’m still gathering enough materials before this blog can go full throttle again.

This blog post is somewhat forced. Several hundreds of words spewed from a brain that’s squeezed to absolute desiccation. Nothing of substance to write about. Just a writer expressing her angst over an 8-month blogging hiatus, waiting for that inspiration that never came. But here I am. I am writing again. I am not inspired, only compelled. I need to prove that I still exist. Yes, I’m right here. And I’m still loving it.