i'm lost but i'm hopeful

It takes about twenty minutes at most to walk from the office to my place. In that short span of time, I get a lot of work done, and by work, I mean thinking, processing thoughts on the usual - life and love, what to blog, and what not to blog.

That's why I find walking therapeutic. I don't care if I sound like a broken record for repeating it for like a dozen times already, but it is. Indeed, the body tires. Much more so for the lower extremities, especially when one is wearing leather shoes; which is what I have on right now.

There are moments when I won't mind traversing the length of two avenues after office, on my way home; but now's not one of those instances, given the circumstances, given the weather. I was too eager to be home and lay down on my bed, and cry myself to sleep, or something like that, but sometimes, things happen - an occurrence that other people might coin as an act of selflessness.

Rather than deprive someone of a small fraction of what they're supposed to earn for the day, I opted to walk, and I just prayed that the clouds will hold up until I'm safely sheltered.

So I tell myself, "Walking does wonders".

There is solace in letting the mind wander. There is a simple joy in noticing the simplest of things that one passes by - like the old building where I used to work, or that flea market which a friend used to visit on lunch breaks, or that short stretch between two landmarks where I would occasionally bump into one, or two crushes, or that crack on the street pavement which I have tripped on a couple of times, or that traffic signage which constantly reminds me of how I stupidly walked straight into one a year and a half ago, or this cafe by the corner, those seats by the window which became witnesses to how we shared stories, told secrets, and judged people.

It surprises me how much memory is built around things unnoticed at the time it was formed. Truly, walking takes my mind farther than where the feet can take me. In as much as it lets me relive memories, walking grants me a unique sense of level-headedness in dealing with them; for memories can be crippling - holding on too tightly makes us so used to seeing shades of gray that we tend to be blind to the better and brighter things that are in front of us.

Yes, memories can be barriers, and it is hard to be stuck behind one.

And for the past couple of seconds, I've been standing on this crossroad wondering if I should head straight, or take a turn but I guess it doesn't really matter which path I choose. What's important is that I know what I need to do.

It's time for me to move along.


Just can't do nothin', gotta do something 'cause if I don't get into my car, I won't go very far.
- David Archuleta, Barriers