The Terrible Writings of Quentin Montejo
Serial experiments on a fallen archangel who only wanted to regain just one wing back
Free of the World. Rain worshipper. Hermit. Tormented mind. Caged spirit. Defiant and eternal enemy of Destiny and Fate. Poet. Scientist. Artist. Daydreamer. He who laughs. Slacker. Sleeper. Romancer of wings and clouds. Fiercely independent. He who is ponderous. Games and anime junkie. Four eyes. Caveman. Nature-lover. He who doesn't think that hard. Non-smoker. Music-junkie. Counter of blessings. Guitar-hugger. He who simply wants what everybody else would like to be in this world and the next -- to be happy.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Somewhere on the Edge of Infinite What Ifs
I remembered when I was young that I fear taking risks.
I wouldn't go to the river deep in the plantations alone afraid that I might get lost. The vast coffee plantations was a horrible place to get lost in to. If you stray away too far from the goat trail, you'll never find a landmark to get back again.
The only thing you can do keep heading in one direction until you come across a wayward local inspecting his coffee trees.
But the thing is, I do know how not to get lost. I know the direction where the roads are, and I can recognize certain trees and landmarks. And if that happens I am limber enough to climb tall ones to get a better view of the place.
What if I did take the risk of going alone into the plantations? I love it there. Just so I can catch a fighting spider I could match with my cousins' and friends'. And sometimes, even at my young age, my restless mind wants to discover things never seen by anyone before -- a wild orchid, or a glimpse of the infamous ibong diablo (a species of sun bird, very rare), or a tree heavy with ripe fruits.
But let's get back to me being afraid of taking risks.
The reason is because I was born with a frail body. My mom is always afraid that I might catch some illness, or that I come home with bruises and wounds from falling off a tree. That happened many times because of my unsatiable curiosity.
Now that I've grown up, things never really changed.
There are still things I don't know. I can only theorize or speculate, but there simply is a lot of things out there that I can barely put into my skull.
And what I don't know, I avoid. Plus, my curiousity has diminished. It's as if I feel that I've figured everything out and I don't need to ask anymore questions. I simply think I am right provided I have analyzed it sufficiently.
But ... what if I'm still wrong?
Yes, that happens. And it did happen many times. Some experiences humbled me and some caused me despair. Somewhere along the way, I even stopped understanding people.
There are things I still don't know in this world. And probably a lot more that even if I live another lifetime, I still wouldn't figure it all out.
What if I did? I guess life would be boring by then ...
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