I am confused

In 7 days I will be heading out of here going back to Dallas where I would be sitting in my dining table looking out to my patio, wondering: Where’s everybody? Where's the crowing of the rooster and my karaoke addicted neighbors?

Dallas is where I should be because that’s where Chat is and Dallas is where I can work not only so I can have what I need but also, so I can have what I want. Not to mention that my boss is waiting. I am blessed with the coolest boss because she lets me do pretty much anything at my own terms. Yet, in spite of all that I just said, why am I not ready to go back?

Because in Dallas I have to pay someone to help me sort out my inner turmoil, to calm down my anxieties and to help me see why I should pick up my own bootstrap so I can go to work. (So I can pay him.) Here in Cebu, for therapy I only have to watch the neighborhood women saddled with 5 dirty, malnourished kids and a jobless husband, yet, they talk to me with a genuine ear to ear smile. With that I don’t need a therapist to help me put things in perspective; I just bang my head on the wall and say, “ What the hell is your problem?”

In Dallas I drive in relative ease and comfort in my own clean car. But when my car makes a funny noise that’s even barely audible I panic – worrying that it would quit on me in the middle of the freeway. In other words, I have to find things to excite me.

Here in Cebu excitement comes free with a taxi. The other day, on the way back from the youth camp, my taxi driver pulled over on a grassy side of the road, he didn't say anything to me but simply got out of the car, leaned over on one of the back tires and sprinkled it. Then he got back on the wheel and acted like, "What's the fuzz about me urinating?" I sat there and wasn't sure if I turned red or purple. Well, I thought, "Just like death - if you have to go, you have to go."