The three weeks that were
These days, in a frenzy to complete the first draft of the first ten chapters of the book for the Special Action Force, I wonder how I have ever gotten a word written on the page. The last three spreads of my Moleskine weekly planner is a jumble of tasks and reminders and notes that I don't even remember doing anymore.
Could it really be that three weeks had passed me by? What do I really remember of those three weeks? I remember going to Bicol and staying with my son for a weekend, and interviewing two different people. I remember making two keynote presentations and speaking at a briefing, and missing an opening at an art gallery, and finding a journalist I have been tracking for so long but eventually realizing he won't be any help to my research. I remember watching the last season of Friends and looking for the Davide Report pursuant to Republic Act 6832 but not finding it. I remember putting off converting and digitally archiving an analog recoding of something very important. I remmber making a lot of calls. I remember spending a whole lot of money.
Beyond the memorable, beyond the vague details remembered, and beyond the mutilated pages of our planners, what do we retain of the weeks we spend? Of the things we put off for yet another day, and of the things we do that are uncheduled, which ones really enrich our lives? What judgement do we make of ourselves when we look back on our lives and realize we have been either too busy or too lazy to appreciate the things that matter?
I have grown three weeks older. Aside from having three spreads in my planner completely filled up with lines that have also been duly crossed out, I also have filled up over a hundred pages of my diary about my reflections on the coup-de-etats in the country between 1986 and 1989, and have amassed over twenty pages worth of notes for the chapters that I am building. I have not blogged. I have not written a word of fiction since my work on this book began. I have not joined the Palanca even with an older work, and have not sent in anything for publication.
But something tells me that staying away from writing fiction for now will all be worth it. I will be back, but for now, well, life is just so much in the way.
Could it really be that three weeks had passed me by? What do I really remember of those three weeks? I remember going to Bicol and staying with my son for a weekend, and interviewing two different people. I remember making two keynote presentations and speaking at a briefing, and missing an opening at an art gallery, and finding a journalist I have been tracking for so long but eventually realizing he won't be any help to my research. I remember watching the last season of Friends and looking for the Davide Report pursuant to Republic Act 6832 but not finding it. I remember putting off converting and digitally archiving an analog recoding of something very important. I remmber making a lot of calls. I remember spending a whole lot of money.
Beyond the memorable, beyond the vague details remembered, and beyond the mutilated pages of our planners, what do we retain of the weeks we spend? Of the things we put off for yet another day, and of the things we do that are uncheduled, which ones really enrich our lives? What judgement do we make of ourselves when we look back on our lives and realize we have been either too busy or too lazy to appreciate the things that matter? 
I have grown three weeks older. Aside from having three spreads in my planner completely filled up with lines that have also been duly crossed out, I also have filled up over a hundred pages of my diary about my reflections on the coup-de-etats in the country between 1986 and 1989, and have amassed over twenty pages worth of notes for the chapters that I am building. I have not blogged. I have not written a word of fiction since my work on this book began. I have not joined the Palanca even with an older work, and have not sent in anything for publication. But something tells me that staying away from writing fiction for now will all be worth it. I will be back, but for now, well, life is just so much in the way.
posted by Maryanne Moll | 1:25 PM
3 Comments:
I'm sure you'll get back on track with the fiction writing before you know it. Sometimes, I find that you have to wait until everything is bottled up inside to the point of bursting. Only then will it all spill out beautifully. c",)
How did you fare with typhoon Milenyo? Hope you and your family are okay.
thanks, irene. that is just so true.
milenyo was horrible in bicol, but my son took the opportunity to keep asking about how storms begin.
i myself was in makati the while time, a living witness to flying g.i. sheets.
Wow! You are quite busy those days!
But you are right we shouldn't forget the essential things in life... life is too short to do such an error!
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