12/17/2012
Things I won't get to do when the world ends

If some people are to be believed, I will never make it home on Friday.

And that's not really the only thing I won't be able to do when the world ends. This sucks, really. I'm 23, turning 24, and I will never live out my potential! The things that feng shui master said - they will never happen, because I'm only two years through this supposedly tumultuous decade, and I'll be dead! (Unless by "relative success, possibly abroad" he meant "in outer space, on a colony in Mars".) In fact, I'll never even make it to 24, which sucks, because I was looking forward to have genuine Indian cuisine on my birthday.

Yep, that's settled. Once the world ends, and we're all swallowed by the earth, time zone by time zone, I won't have genuine Indian cuisine. Granted, its authenticity will still be in question because I'll only be getting it at an Indian restaurant in, say, Makati, but it's the closest I'll get, and I'll never get there.

I won't fulfill my dreams of travelling alone. Granted, I went to Singapore solo over a month ago, but that was for work, and the only thing I saved up for (without knowing, really) was my pocket money, which went towards all those CDs I bought. I was looking forward to save my own money for the tickets and the hotel and, if things went differently, tickets to Laneway 2014 with Drea. Or the chance to finally meet Linda Marigliano. Or the chance to walk around London, having just dropped my fish and chips (how stereotypical) because I'm shivering cold (how stereotypical).

I won't get to meet Jeany in New York, if she'll still be in New York by then.

I won't fulfill my dreams of writing a essay on a newspaper. And before you tell me that I was published in a magazine once, that doesn't count, because I wasn't paid for it, and I only knew about it months later, when Dee started feeling angry towards her situation.

I won't get past my fear of driving our SUV, because it's bigger and, thus, easier to hit a street sign with.

I won't get the iPhone 5 I reserved with Globe. But at least I showed some loyalty to the brand that has served me well for more than a decade. (Again, not a paid advertisement.)

I won't convince people that I have a pretty wicked sense of humor. Not that I think that highly of myself, but I remember attempting to do a stand-up routine during recognition day in elementary school - don't remember when, but I tried being topical by mentioning the execution of Leo Echagaray. I don't know what I was thinking then.

I won't be able to buy that bookshelf I've always wanted to see house my still burgeoning book collection and my not-so-burgeoning CD collection.

I won't get to do something at work that I'm truly proud of.

I won't have people come up to me and say "hey, wasn't it you who did this outrageous thing that worked wonderfully in the end?"

I won't have that heart-to-heart conversation with Clarence I've somehow, not-so-secretly, wanted to have.

I won't get to go to that reunion with my elementary school friends, because they always schedule it on a date when I'm not available, usually when I'm out of town taking a vacation. This year, they're doing it in the New Year. It's definitely not happening at this point, I'm afraid.

I won't get to buy another pack of Horlicks powder.

I won't get to buy strawberry-flavored condoms, the very things I have unrestrained access to, thanks to the Reproductive Health Bill, which our legislators just sent to MalacaƱang. Just in time. Or not. They'll be stuck with drafting those damn implementing rules after it gets signed, and by then we have no more politicians, since hell is waiting for them.

I won't get to go to that unfulfilled plan of going to Ikea with Mae and Marielle, and having their Swedish meatballs along the way. Why we all forgot about it when I was in Singapore, I'll never bother explaining at length here.

I won't find out what happens to Carrie and Brody on Homeland. Or whether The Following is really any good. Or the ending to Fringe. That sucks. I was pretty certain Walter will die one way or another, and Astrid will inherit his knowledge (but not his hubris).

I won't get that facial I've long been delaying.

I won't get my first kiss.

I won't be able to write that novel I have in my head, although the window of inspiration has definitely passed, and it would take me forever to even start organizing my thoughts into a cohesive, satisfying narrative.

I won't understand why I did the things I did, and I won't get a satisfactory explanation for the mistakes that I've made. Sure, I'm pretty content with where I am right now, but so many what-ifs still linger in my head. What if I didn't get kicked out of high school? What if I didn't take my studies seriously? What if I was left-handed and right-brained?

I won't know how it feels to be genuinely happy. But then again, I still have less than four days to make it so, and for once, it seems that it's actually easier to get there.

And your responses...

I say, write that novel. NOW! :)

Anonymous Ariane1/05/2013     

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