For my calves with love.

While it both pains and embarrasses me to see that my last post was made about five months ago and my last blog-worthy post was published at the beginning of the year, my current resurrection simply implies that I have finally decided to end the year cleaning the cobwebs off this blog. In fact, I went as far as changing the blog title and the “tag line” but maintained my username to eternally pay homage to the beaten bicycle that stuck with me through the perils and struggles of learning how to ride a bike post-childhood phase in a foreign country (I was 19 and it was in Thailand).

Anyway, I’m back to writing right now because there finally came a point in this premature career of mine that I realized I don’t want to do anything else but write. I know it’s “too soon” as far as the the Eat. Pray. Love. meter is concerned and god knows my mind would change in the next fifteen minutes, but it was my sporadic yet frequent trips to corporate rock bottom that finally opened my eyes to the truth (will think of a better line next time, promise). And just to be clear on the dramatic term “corporate rock bottom”, six out of 10 times I made sure that I wasn’t just running away from the deadlines and the pressure. I had to constantly assess that I wasn’t just being a wuss about life in general. However, when it finally came to the point where I was actually enjoying and managing my work well but still thought of writing instead, I knew I had to do something about it.

So I’m proud to say that I have done step one which is to leave my current job and step two which is to write constantly. From here, I have no idea what to do next. I have thought about going to school but I am more concerned with being able to pay the bills. I have also entertained the idea of travelling the country on a bus and to write a book about the experience  (to which my usually supportive mother responded by rolling her eyes)–yes, I have watched too much films to justify this vision. So yes, clueless indeed.

What I do know, as of this moment, Monday, November 26, 2012, 12:31AM is my motto in life. It may not sound as promising as “too legit too quit” or “fall seven times get up eight” but I think it applies to any aspect of  life. Plus, it’s French.

Sadly, I cannot remember the book where I first read the line l’esprit de l’escalier but I do remember I was in my last year of college. Earlier this evening, I came across it again while browsing through a Tuscany-themed interior designing book over at a relative’s home and knew I found my tattoo line of choice (but since I can’t get one and live under the same roof with my parents, I decided to use it as my new blog title instead). The term literally translates to staircase wit but is used as a French idiomatic expression to describe a comeback when it’s too late. Or in a more dramatic explanation, the feeling you get after leaving a conversation and suddenly think about the things you might have said (got this from Tumblr so don’t get mad).

Urban Dictionary also offers a definition I’m sure everyone can relate to:

Gahh. Click to enlarge.
To be honest, I don’t think I can go “damn, stair wit!” if this happened to me because I would either be a.) temporarily frozen in my own cold absence of mind/stupidity or b.) busy blaming myself by inflicting mild and legal physical violence on the person I’m with.

Of course, I didn’t just choose this because it impeccably describes my flirting skills (or lack thereof). But you see, one of the most important things I learned this year is the value of life–the opportunities we encounter, the people we spend it with and all that. I know it’s not some brand new discovery but I also realized that I have been living as a spectator of my own life instead of being the main character. I’ve become passive as I got older; taking for granted all the wonderful blessings I am bestowed with everyday. Then when I read about the origin of l’esprit de l’escalier and how the French philosopher Denis Diderot discovered if after being left speechless after being addressed with a seemingly strong remark and then to only came up with the perfect reply when he reached the bottom of the stairs as he was about to leave the party, I read the signal.

The bottom of stairs was the neon sign; blinding the hell out of me. I saw the bottom of the stairs as that brief transition from life to death where you think of the things you should have, in this case, said AND done.

And I’m  in this phase in life where I come to a halt midway the staircase to stop and think about that perfect comeback, so I can go back and deliver that damn reply. So when I do reach the bottom of stairs, I would be ready to take that one last step.

I then saw  that coming up with that reply would entail years and years of going up and down that damn staircase. After all, how do you respond to the remark that is life? I guess responding doesn’t mean you have to come up with a definite answer but rather being able to look  back and feel that you don’t owe anyone any reply in the first place. Because at the end of of this walk, the journey going down and even the kind of staircase you build for yourself is what truly matters.

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About bellazoom

Hold on.

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