Freelancing - The Call of the Wild

I hear it. It beckons like a mermaid in the mist. Telling me that I'm ready to leave my comfort zone behind.

Three weeks ago, my cousin Raul passed away so suddenly. We surmised he had a massive heart attack in the middle of the night. Saddened and shocked, my brothers, cousins and I found comfort in each other. I reminded some of them that he was already accomplished and has left a legacy of published books behind. Yes, Raul was my muse, the kind you admired and feared at the same time. He set the bar so high for me, not just in my writing, but more in the way I lived and followed my dreams. I feared that I would never be able to make him proud.

He constantly reminded me that I was bigger than my fears. When I was a freshman in UP Diliman, and scared of telling my parents that I didn't want to become a doctor, he simply asked me what I wanted to do. I was never afraid to tell him that I wanted to change the world. I said I didn't want to slice up bodies. Instead I wanted to dissect people's thoughts.

That was just the beginning. He was there each time I made life changing decisions. In my first job ever, we were officemates. That wasn't even intentional. I had applied to a job ad in the local newspaper and when I went for the interview, there he was as one of the interviewers. He was there when a common friend of ours broke my heart. He was there when I decided to migrate to Canada for good. He was there when I took a hiatus in Manila for 18 months. During all that time, he would ask me if I had written anything yet. But what do I write, I felt like I hadn't lived yet?

Now that he has gone ahead to the library in heaven, because I'm absolutely sure that's what Ollie's heaven looks like, I still hear his voice. I still hear him asking me, "Are you happy? Are you living your dream? Are you living the life you want to write about?"

Last week, I was in Manila and living in two timezones and not in a fun way. I wasn't chatting with friends from across the Pacific Ocean. No, I was working, posting accounting entries and replying to emails across the Pacific. That made me feel very, very sad. When I should have been dealing with family matters, work had intruded such a personal time. That signaled the end for me. It was work-life balance tipped at the wrong side of the scale.

I'm back home and back to work. Today, each moment on my desk I heard the ticking of the timer, the rushing of the sand on the hourglass. I'm setting up my escape to freedom. A planned escape because I'm 40 and not 21. But an escape nonetheless. Soon. Before it's too late.