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BY PETER SOLIS NERY
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I’M A PRETTY reflective person. But no, I’m not the past tense kind of guy. I’m really more of the present tense, the seize-the-day, the live-the-moment kind of person. But I do take time to think about the things that have happened to me. Somehow, it is important for me to understand what I’m doing right, what I’m doing okay, and what I’m doing great.
In fact, I have a little black book of daily achievements. Sure, it records my great successes, but it also documents mundane things like Duterte and Trump winning the Philippine and US presidential elections. Or Leonardo DiCaprio and Brie Larson winning the 2016 Oscars for Best Actor and Best Actress, respectively.
I have no problem remembering that in January, I finished my senior high school Creative Writing textbook for DIWA Publishing (due for release next year in time for the first year that the Philippines will have Grade 12). It was some work. Seriously, it wasn’t a hard or difficult job because I liked what I was doing; but it was tedious, and I had serious deadlines to meet.
Moneywise, the DIWA project did not really rake in a fortune for me. It was a pretty specialized book for the Humanities and Social Sciences track of the K-12 program. But, although the money may not be great in US standards, it was pretty decent for the Philippines.
The textbook writing was fun for me because the project could have gone to some pobreng alindahaw Filipino writer; but instead, they chose me! Here’s the thing: because I am not in the academe, any chance I get for world domination, I’ll grab. Even if it pays me only half of what I should really be getting. I’m not trying to be a pushover here. It’s just my strategy.
Anyway, I really cannot understand these Filipino writers who put too much premium on themselves; and yet, have no books or textbooks to show. How can you call yourself a writer if all you have to show is a shoebox full of unpublished poetry and stories?
In February, I wrote several creative writing stuff for the 2016 Palanca Awards. Although none of the new works won any prize, I was still awarded a first prize Palanca gold medal this year for an older work that I reviewed in February. So it was really a win-win situation for me.
Confession: I’m really beginning to feel tired of writing for the Palanca contest. And I’m afraid that my Palanca years will soon be over. Did I climax too early? Was it wrong to peak and attain the Hall of Fame at 43? I have a UP professor who didn’t get to the Hall of Fame until such professor was about 60 or 65.
Of course, a lot of people want to me stop entering the Palanca contest, and just be a judge. I like the idea, but I don’t think it’s happening soon. Just because I don’t have a PhD in Literature, or an MFA in Creative Writing, I’m still largely insecure as a writer, much more as a judge. I may have the verve and the nerve, but I’m really shy and insecure deep inside. But don’t worry about me. It’s not psychotic shyness. I’ve pretty much adapted, and adjusted, to all these fame, glory, and honors vested upon me as Peter Solis Nery, the multi-awarded writer.
In March, I met an old flame, who has a new flame, and we all, three, played with flames and fire. So yeah, threesomes and love triangles… guilty! The worst part of it is dating X; and then, dating Y; and before the day is over, having both X and Y together. Eiffel Tower Position, check. Three Cobras in Tank, check. Don’t judge. I’m a widower! And it’s not true that I have a thing with young boys. The truth is, young boys have a thing for me!
April was a bad investment month. No, I’m not talking about President Duterte, although I campaigned vehemently for him when I came home in April and May. I’m talking about my failed RV life.
So, I met possible roadtrip partners in March, and I bought this previously owned RV for cheap because they said they could fix it. I thought the opportunity was too precious to pass up. A happened, then B happened, then C, and so on. About $8,000 later, the RV broke to a coma, and would need about $4,000 to fix with no real guarantee. (The RV was a 1987 junk; about 10 years older than my youngest boyfriend!) Sadly, I decided to let it go in August.
The RV Project was truly a nightmare. But I was in love with the idea. And those times when I was in love, they were precious. They were exciting. They inspired me, and they made me lust for life. Buying the RV and spending for its repair made me realize, once again, the value of money, and the value of my money. I can afford things! I can even buy a boyfriend!
But the greatest thing that came out of my RV Project dream is me alive, and intact. Full disclosure: at least three of my closest friends have warned me about going on a roadtrip with “total strangers.” I don’t know how to explain this, but let me try: I believe in giving people a second chance. I believe in random kindness. I believe in a ministry of accompaniment. I believe in affecting people’s lives positively.
I met people I liked. They were as available as I was. I thought it would be cool to travel, and see the world, with them. I know I can be abused, and exploited. But I also thought that perhaps I could be appreciated, and loved. I had to take chances. Life is too short to be lived in constant fear and paranoia.
No, it didn’t escape me that I could be killed in the middle of nowhere; but I was also hoping that traveling would make me more alive, more human than most sedentary people. When I shared my RV Project idea with friends, I was the subject of envy. Everybody thought it was brilliant. My legion of supporters wished me well, and wished they were going with me. But some things aren’t meant to be.
I lost money on the RV Project. I lost faith in certain people. But I’m still here, I’m still alive, and still grateful that I’m such a lucky guy to suffer and feel it before things could get worse. And still, I have faith in God’s big picture. And God’s plans for me./PN
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