Aging with grace

Aging is inevitable. Something we all can't escape. But not all can go about aging with such grace the way I knew this guy. To the Sociologist students in UP Diliman, he is Professor Manuel Bonifacio, for us at the office (and his friends), he is simply, Doc Boni.

Today, P and I went to Goldilocks to buy a cake for him as we will celebrate his "24th" birthday. He won't reveal to us his (real) age so we stood by what he announced to us during lunch, "I am 24." Everyone laughed. But even though his physical appearance denies such claim, Doc Boni is truly young at heart.

He's one of our esteemed consultants at the office. He's one of the few people I know who can easily adapt with all kinds of people. I knew by heart his credentials,but he refrains me for always talking about it. I knew that he finished his PhD at the University of Pennsylvania and that he's been a consultant to various projects whether government or private. He should have been retired by now and should have opted to stay at home but he said, he'll get sick that way. He's one of the few people who can climb the stairs all the way to the third floor of our office everyday and still smile at the top all the way to his cubicle. In fact he's the only person who consistently greets me "Hi and Good morning" everyday.

He's the sweetest. He gives me littlest of things. A piece of candy. Coffee. Sugar for refill. Soda. Chocolates. A cd of instrumental music for relaxation. He said, "So you can write and relax ." (A sweet spite I guess. He knew I listen to rock music).

But he's not just sweet to me. He's sweet to everyone. I guess that is why he is well loved.

To the sweetest guy alive. More birthdays to come Doc Boni. Cheers!

One good and practical advise that he always tells me: "Rayts finish your MA thesis!" (haha)

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A pensive Friday

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Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter. ~Mark Twain~

Aging and Solitude

Some reckon their age by years,
Some measure their life by art;
But some tell their days by the flow of their tears
And their lives by the moans of their hearts.

- Abram Joseph Ryan

Once I had both: money and youth. Who could ask for more? People loved me. I was happy. I got all the attention. My youth was my salvation, my excuse to every mistake and misapprehension. My money was both my steerer and my stirrer. I believe I could almost do anything, except thinking now, I never thought I would be of this age. To sit and think of the past. Solitude is a nice company. It never asks.

I had all the creases on my face to prove such experience. This permanent crooked smile to prove what I have learned... (-excerpt from some blabber I am writing. about aging. being a woman. solitude. and all the existential stuff)

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What I am 20 years from now is already embedded in my head. It's nice to be the sole bearer of this image. No one knows. Sometimes I would smile. But the overcast is simply hard to put aside. I guess it's bound to happen especially when you're adding a year to your age.