Though I am blinded by life’s occasional flared lights, there is certainty in this inkling. I am on my way home. It’s like knowing that as long as you know where your North is, you’ll find your bearings stable enough to bring you where you’re supposed to be. I’ve taken the much longer route than most folks — wrong turns and hitting potholes — I’ve finally reached a crossroad that with just a flip of a coin, I’ve reached a more definite decision.

I am where I should be.

Trivia: Taken with an iPod Touch camera (MrTots) using the Instagram application as I was walking home from the train station one late fall afternoon in Adelaide, South Australia; April 2011).

Trudging through life with the knowledge that this bit of space I occupy is lost in the colossal tract where a million of other folks, who are seemingly larger than life, with voices louder and more significant than mine, reside in. Sometimes, I wish to remain in the shadows, but there are times when I do seek to scale the canyon and challenge the norm. If only my courage won’t fail me each time I take that first step.

It always comes back to being someone ordinary wanting to be extraordinary; constantly failing, sometimes succeeding. Subdued by the ache, freed by the pen. So, thus I write.

I write a letter.

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Emptiness is often associated with sad circumstances. Loss, abandonment, purposeless, desolate, uninhabited, barren, no life. Though these have merit, I’d rather spend time supposing something brighter, meaningful and good.

Sometimes, you do have to empty your hands to be able to hold on to something new. Looking at things from a different angle, hollowness can mean boundless opportunities, anticipated fullness, a worthwhile future, and yes, a certain level of freedom for expression.

Once in a while, we go through trying times that will bleed us dry, forlornly empty. Cheer up and move forward as opposed to keeping yourself housed in melancholy.

Trivia: Photo taken at Caleruega, Nasugbu, Batangas, Philippines using my new toys: a Canon 60D and a Lensbaby Composer with a Double Glass Optic; February 2011.

The strangeness of reality would often catch me unaware. Random events would come as a surprise even when there’s familiarity. Life, mine in particular, has almost always been oddly discomfiting — seemingly leading me towards a different direction each and every time.

Music labels each path I take. I allow it that much power. In the moments I spend alone, thinking and writing, it accompanies me. Affects my mood and pen. Inspires every creative cell in my being; reflected in my personal style, in my writing, and in my photos.

I’m finding more and more time for music and writing. I’m finding more and more time for myself and my thoughts.

A new road. A change in direction. In time, things will make sense. Music will provide the spark; inspire each time I pick up my pen, face my laptop or look through the viewfinder. Each step I will take will be driven, energized and affected.

How about you? What sort of music are you listening to today?

“Maybe you’re just preempting yourself,” a friend had said earlier when I openly admitted personal theories on dating. I reckon my friend had hit the nail right on its head. It was a statement I couldn’t argue my way out of.

I make choices based on a drive to prevent an anticipated event from happening regardless if the outcome is good or bad. I forestall. I act in advance of someone in order to prevent them from doing something that I may not like. I interrupt a train of thought before it reaches its rightful conclusion. I replace definitions with my own way of understanding them. I do these out of fear of disappointment.

What is wrong with acknowledging the desire? Why is it hard to admit that I do want this desire to materialise?

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