WTF moments: I had an early birthday present from a thoughtful post by Ronin AnimeLover, who writes:

The youth are now proactive, not only in the streets but also in cyberspace as well. People are now taking their outrage from police-controlled environments to the untrekked world of digital information, a.k.a. the Internet.

And with their struggle supported by the launching of the blogs of Jun Lozada and Among Ed, respectively, and joining the ranks of the respectable political blogs of MLQ, Lester Cavestany, and Marck Ronald Rimorin, to name a few, it won’t be too long before the cloud of the Philippine political blogosphere gathers like water drops condensing into a massive thundercloud.

I like the idea of the youth being socially proactive through the Internet and all, and I like the ring of “water drops condensing into a massive thundercloud.”  All of a sudden, political meteorology sounds like such a good prospect.  But what really got me squirming - both with flattery and shame - is that the blogger lumped me up with Manolo Quezon and Lester Cavestany.  These are two people who deserve everything about being “respectable political bloggers.”  I, on the other hand, translate songs by Aegis.

Who?  Me?  Respectable political blogger?

I think it will please the likes of Arbet and Jester-in-Exile if I lifted my self-imposed political blogging moratorium and wrote more about politics, and if I postpone my post on the possibility of Renz Verano singing a Tagalized version of “Always Be My Baby” (I have it in my Drafts).  Which means I’ll end up doing two things: post the translation anyway (I still have to check if the measure matches) and lift my political blogging moratorium.

To be honest, even I can’t stand it.

I’m going to turn another year older tomorrow. Yup, Marocharim turns 23 on the Fourth of July. That itself is a pretty good reason to take a good, long look on the 22 years you already led, and the road that lies ahead. That itself is a pretty good reason to look at exactly where you are, and what steps you’ll take next.

Twenty-three is anything but a crossroads; at my age, I already have set a course for my life, and to a certain extent, I’m making it happen. Among my many ambitions and dreams, I always wanted to be a writer. If anything, I never imagined myself to be famous, much less rich. My life is still rather Spartan: not in the sense of 300, but living within what I can of the pittance I get for my pay. As you claw your way to a “destiny” that seems to be within your reach, you find yourself clawing for your cellphone, texting your parents, and asking them if they can spot you a thousand to tide yourself over until the next payday.

There’s rent to pay, lunch to eat, and painkillers to numb the gunshot-like pain at the base of your skull shooting down your left arm after a day’s worth of writing. Or as my friends call it half-jokingly, my “source of inspiration.”

I guess that if there’s anything I learned the past year, it’s that I really can’t separate myself from what I do. Granted that I don’t make a lot of money and pester my parents too often for a small loan, but I am in the extremely enviable position of making a living out of my passion: writing. I’ve been somewhere holding a pen, lugging a typewriter case, or tapping away at a computer keyboard for most of my life that I really don’t know what else I can do. I no longer think of writing as a means of making a living, as much as I do think of it as living. As life itself. As happiness… as sensibility, as meaning.

Everytime I get up from my bed and take the long commute to the office, I sometimes question that thought; if I pursued a different direction in life more than one that has me popping pills and smoking cigarettes like crazy. I sometimes shed tears, wondering if I ever failed at yet another decision in life just because I felt like looking at things through sentences and phrases. Those tears dry up quickly, knowing how many differences I make with just a few thoughts, with some sentences, and doing things without the wax. From there, no matter what road I will take, I’ll still end up somewhere: somewhere I’m destined to be.

Where that would be, I do not know. I am absolutely uncertain about the steps I’ll take. But I am, however, certain that one road will lead to another. All this is meaningful. All this is happiness.

All this can be written about.

All this… is life.