St. John and the Perils of Posting: Blogging as Sweet Remembering

Sigh. Sometimes, I find myself seriously reconsidering having our school, St. John, moved somewhere else. Don't get me wrong. San Antonio Village is a beautiful enclave at the heart of the Ortigas Central Business District, which is due, in great part, to the efforts of longtime Barangay Captain Gregorio Rupisan. It's just that most of my memories of San Antonio revolve around the carefree adventures of my storied "single" years, which, to hear my best bud Ralph tell of it, is the stuff of which legends are made of. While I would not recommend, by way of Chesterton, exploring a John-D Borra "whose manifest absurdity clings to the fancy like the beauty of first-love, and whose follies are recounted like the legends of a paladin", I find myself longing for the days when life was simpler and less taxing, when my chief responsibilities consisted of getting up ten minutes before class and getting paid. Nowadays, my working day begins very early in the morning (since, oddly, that's when I seem to do my best conceptual work) and there just seems so much to do.

Still, whenever I look at what we've accomplished, in no small part, thanks to the efforts of all the people involved in putting up St. John, my wistful reminisces seem to dissipate into the fondness of memory and fade cheerfully into some half-remembered twilight where the very lack of useful light makes all these memories, in a way, illuminating. I know I probably burdened the preceding sentence with more faux-literary twists and turns than any decent sentence could bear, but that's the beauty of blogging. Blogging is very much like reminiscing, and just as soon as you let it all out, everything seems to calm down again.

Watch out for the opening of St. John. It's worth the wait.