In Transit

I'm in transit.

I realize I love talking about public transportation. Well, not necessarily love love, it's just that it happens to be a daily requirement in my life, and much like the old teachings of Zen, wisdom comes in not doing. The no-mind not-thinks no-thoughts about no-things, Buddha says. Okay, I don't get it really, but it's amusing the way insight comes when I'm out alone in the world, not-walking and not-thinking, moving from one place to another. It's rather hazardous, but hey. This is probably why I shouldn't drive.

Anyway, I digress.

Like I mentioned in previous posts here, I actually like traveling via jeep, train and/or bus. What I kinda hate are the in-betweens. I especially hate that walk from the LRT to the MRT line, those hundred or so steps through Fairmart and Gateway in Cubao. I generally like walking, but that walk is just totally painful for me (especially in the morning when you have to take an extra hundred steps around said malls, because they're still closed, or late in the evening after a long day at work). It's noisy, it's laden with distractions and crowded with people who probably hate the walk too, and couldn't care less if they bump you or step on your quickly-pacing feet. I often find myself zoning out when in transit from one public station to the next. Funny, though, there's a weird sort of excitement that you get when you know you're close to the next terminal. I guess it's the enticing triumph of reaching your destination.

Life is pretty much like that right now. I'm in transit. I just had a really long train ride on a very corporate, hyperpaced train. I learned to grow train legs against the whoosh and wobble of the Telco industry; actually, to the point of people telling me I write so differently now, and that what I write has taken on such a corporate sound. I learned so much in that year-and-two-month Telco train ride; stepping out of such a stable carriage was a tough decision. The best decisions are the tough ones¸ my department head said, and I will forever be thankful for those reassuring words.

Being in transit sucks, and it's embarrassing trying to find your way through the unfamiliar connecting paths and figuring out the new ticket booths (have you ever experienced not knowing how to get a ticket from the LRT vending machine?) and stairs and escalators of a new and uncharted train station. I think we have to want to get to our destination enough to survive the awkwardness and restlessness of being in transit. It also pays to remember your good friends telling you how much they believe you're meant to be where you want to be. That they look up to you for having the courage to jump out of your current train in order to get on another one. Funny how things don't seem that grand when you're all jelly in the knees and anxious.

I'm in transit, and a lot of things are funny, awkward, unsettling and downright different. I'm a shy kid, and I'm more often than not easily embarrassed but learning is always embarrassing anyway, as a good friend quoted someone who escapes my brain right now. I'm all wide-eyed, hopeful and eager to learn, praying that this new train ride will take me closer to home, to that destination I've hungrily sought routes to to take me there (and there are no easy routes I think). I've a lot to get used to, a lot to learn, a lot improve on!

When I'm wandering in transit I often look around for clues if I'm on the right track, pun intended. A familiar sign, a directional arrow. On my first day on the new job, I came to my area and found a measuring tape, a stack of fashion magazines and a pile of clothes on my desk.

Sorry for the clutter! my new seatmates said. It's alright, I said. It's all right.