The title may be a bit complicated, but this entry is basically an introspection on my being an escape artist.
I realized quite recently that I can be an escape artist, in a weird sense.
I guess it has been a reflex of mine to daydream whenever I find myself in a not-so-ideal situation. I've had a few of those in the past days.
I rarely blog about my roommate, compared to the rate I did two years ago, when I had a Japanese roommate who sucked. This time, my roommate is way better than that, but I still have some reservations.
I will not put emphasis on his "misdemeanors," because I don't want to concern myself about it right now, but instead, I want to blog about my survival instinct about it. I guess I just daydream of the time when I would have a pad of my own, where I rule the place, and I am the boss. I dream of a place where I would return and not find the sink half-clean, with fish scales all over the place. Don't get me wrong, my roommate tries his best to do his part, but it is just not as thorough as I can do it. I dream of a place where I would not remind whoever it is that it is his turn to vacuum the place, since I did it last week. I dream of a place where the dishes are placed in order and exact precision in the cupboard. I dream of a place where the knives are all placed in the right order, with the blade facing upwards not downwards in the knife-holder. I dream of a place where I can insist on my desires and preferences. But alas, I am not yet in a position to do that.
I see myself in him, only I see the version of myself when I was in fourth grade. I remember the time when it took me 3 hours to finish washing the dishes back in Manila. I remember my mother telling me how bad I am at washing dishes, with all the grease still intact. And now, I see myself, my previous self, embodied in him.
Enough of that.
Yesterday, I went to the library. I carried my statistics book, my notes, and my folder for that class. I decided that I would go to the library, find a quiet place, and sit down and do my homework. Even if I have an office, I decided to do it in the library. In this way, there would be no distractions.
Don't get me wrong. I do love the class, where I am brushing elbows with different terminologies that I haven't encountered before, such as the Satterthwaite's Procedure, the Newman-Keul's Procedure, the Tukey-A Procedure, in addition to the numerous different statistical tests, such as the Student's T-Test, Hartley's F-Max Test, and Cochran's Test, among others. It's just that the homework is a bit too tedious and I get distracted whenever I am in my office.
Well, there is always my laptop and the Internet in my office. I then put on my escape artist hat again, and surf the web for the different places that I would want to go. If I want to be distracted, I would just go to websites offering tours to far-away places. In the past, the places I have checked and traveled to virtually included Registan in Samarqand, Uzbekistan; Xibalba Caves in Coban, Guatemala; the earthen carved churches in Lalibela, Ethiopia; the Buddhist stupas in Anuradhapura, Sri Lanka; the Inca citadels in El Valle Sagrado, Peru; the salt pans in Salar de Uyuni near Potosi, Bolivia; the Badshahi Mosque in Lahore, Pakistan; among others. There are simply too many places to go.
And having a wall with postcards pushed into it does not help. In front of me is this push-pin wall where I display my small but growing postcard collection. I have started this small collection of mine from the time my family sent me postcards from places where they have been to. I also asked friends to send me postcards whenever they would go places, and I myself buy a few postcards here and there, whenever I would find myself out of town.
A few years from now, when I am a faculty of a sweet university, I imagine myself having an office, whose wall is full of postcards from all over the place. I'll be a linguist-cum-deltiologist by then.
Ok, back to reality.
(Tall arches, from my Basilica de Voto Nacional Series)