thinking aloud...

While riding the cab on my way to work, I wondered how it must be like for cab drivers – meeting strangers everyday in their line of work. Do they get curious about the passengers that get in and out of their cars? Do they ponder about the life stories these people have? Coz I know if I was a cab driver, I would probably think about that. And I would let my imagination run wild and invent all sorts of life stories for these people. Why is that old guy smiling? Maybe he just came from an illicit rendezvous and he’s reliving the scenes in his head. Rendezvous with an old girlfriend from college! Why does that pretty girl look so worried? Maybe she just found out that she’s pregnant and she doesn’t want the baby. Not when she’s planning to take a job offer overseas. Why does the baby keep on crying? Maybe her nanny is secretly pinching her on the side. The nanny actually hates the baby because the baby is her half sister (they have the same father) but nobody else knows about it except for her and her mom. Why is that guy constantly starting at his companion? Maybe he’s in love with HIM! I’d come up with complicated stories, issues and drama because I firmly believe that people aren’t always what they seem. Then I thought, I wonder what people think when they see me? Do they wonder about my life story? Do I look like someone full of stories to tell?

*****

One of my dearest friends visited me for a week, and as pasalubong, gave me a book written by Rica Bolipata-Santos. I finished the book within the week, reading it before I go to sleep. The book is a collection of her articles previously published in a daily, and the way she writes reminded me very much of how I wanted to write when I was younger. It was simple, no big words, just narratives of her life. But it was captivating, and moving. She was able to effectively capture the important lessons that are learned in living the everyday life.

Back in high school, I loved writing, kept journals with many unfinished stories (because I can’t write fast enough to capture all the thoughts swimming in my head), and wanted to be a writer when I grow up. I wasn’t good at writing – I just liked to write and I have a lot of things to write about. I have stories! And emotions! Emotions that can only be fully articulated through writing. And I was willing and able to write them down. But over the years, I had lesser time to write, but more so, lesser inclination to do so. I learned to be less emotional, more logical. Or more accurately, less vocal about my emotions. Yes, that’s probably it. I don’t think I ever lost the art of emoting but I’ve learned to control showing it. The experiences I’ve been through and the people I’ve let into my life taught me this skill.

But I liked what I have become. I realized I don’t like drama in my own life (so I get my drama fix from the cheesy movies that I love). Although I guess if I want to really write again, then I’d need to be more sensitive and open about my emotions.

Hmmm, we’ll see…