I'm currently reading The Secret right now, a book by Rhonda Byrne. And it was as if I was scheduled to read it.
You see, my brother and I was just surfing through our new-found torrent site. In no time, we realized that (oh yeah) we can search any book--or any ebook--we ever dreamed of reading. (Well, if you're not a fan of reading, this may not interest you, but hold on.) Out of excitement, I remembered Oprah recommending a book called The Secret. And that was that, then click! Done.
Oh wait, before the book was downloaded, I read something from a friend's blog that goes something like, "Your surroundings are but a reflection of your thoughts." I really tried to take it in, but I just can't. It was like eating liver or prunes--foods that I'd been avoiding all my life. I just can't accept the idea that I was the one who supposedly "thought" the not-so-great part of my surroundings.
But then, this came into my mind: the first step to recovering is none other than forgiving oneself, right? Well... that is, if I had really thought it. (I was so shunning the fact that I brought about such an event.)
It was still a few days when I got the chance to start reading it. We had developed a habit of reading ebooks during our shifts (when I say we, I'm referring to my hilarious friends), and that was what I was planning with my latest... discovery.
It wasn't some kind of a shocking revelation. It was like, a thing that was there all along but you just didn't take time to notice. Or in my case, it was deliberately ignored. But things have a means of finding its way to you, or it was just one of those days that you managed to attract something without realizing it. I don't know. It just came.
Maybe because I never thought it could happen to me. Or maybe I was just in the middle of two clashing things, and that when one dominated the other, it won me.
I never thought such a simple thing is so hard to accept.
Oh but wait again, I'll save this good "thinking" for next time though; my bed's already so inviting. I'll explain my pros and my cons by then.
Yes, you read it right. I have both.
written last September 12:
I often see demonstrations by outspoken individuals who seem to demand almost anything and everything from the government; students who insist on their ideals, workers who contest the minimum wage and taxes, and not-so-employed citizens who seem to always arrogantly lay down their requirements as to how they should live. Yet politicians and government workers alike pursue only what they believe are the topics worth debating.
I saw someone in a company meeting who mustered up the nerve to ask if there will be salary adjustments accompanying the re-assignments. One boss handled it very charmingly, asking them also if their reason for coming to work everyday is their salary or their desire to really help. However impressive this may seem, I found myself more interested with the words of another boss who talks about improving the workplace.
I got into a trike, and after revealing to the driver—who had waited in line for so long for his turn—that my place was near, and that he would only receive a mere fifteen pesos for it, he joked to the next one that he should take me instead. My initial reaction was annoyance, thinking that ‘hey, I would pay you reasonably anyway so why the need to joke like that?’ But after which I also thought that I shouldn’t be thinking that way; that this same driver is only working to earn enough money to feed his family, to make the most of the precious highly-priced gas he has in his engine.
Having witnessed all these, I came to conclude that without love or passion for what we do, we are all just in it for ourselves. And that is just what we have to accept from one another—however selfish it may sound. Because sensible enough, the absence of love is indeed selfishness.
Unless you made a particularly great impact on our first meeting—something that I can associate your name with—I’d definitely forget that one word that will supposedly tell you apart from everyone else I already know.
To begin with, I never was the popular type. All my studying life I have only been surrounded by familiar people. I had never been good at shaking hands, let alone thinking up ice-breakers. I had lived in a quietly reserved country for 5 years. And when I got back, I was still in my own world, living by my own rules. Well, I was.
But don’t get me wrong; I’m not a bad conversationalist. I was merely trying to justify that one flaw you must’ve thought I should have eradicated but have not; and that is simply because—your name—is not that important.
This is not aimed to offend you, nor mock you. I have intentionally left the deficiency there for the reason that I would love to associate you more with the good things that you do, with the honest words that you say, or with the thoughtfulness of someone who genuinely appreciates and respects his fellow being; not the facade that you seem to be, but the true persona hiding beneath. So that on the second, the third, or the fourth meeting, I would have come up with an appropriately unique nickname just for you.
In line with that, I have also decided not to tell mine, for the hopes that you would in turn allow me to let myself be “named” on the same grounds. Being known yet unknown has never been more seducing, that I may have the luck of shouting in silence, of telling yet not talking, and of spelling words which are better read, not said.
And now, in my years when I have already developed a wit for ice-breakers, I would like to cage my body in exchange of freeing my mind; for even though the body is not free, at least, the soul is.
I'm currently reading The Secret right now, a book by Rhonda Byrne. And it was as if I was scheduled to read it.