Brooding

I've just had a wonderful 7-hour phone conversation with my very good nurse friend. She's unemployed by choice, having fearfully discovered she dislikes working in a hospital setting. She prefers to become a social worker - mingling with indigent children and native Filipinos in the provinces. Although her intentions are very noble, these intentions aren't ones that will bring food to her own plate.

She and I were not born into wealthy families with Benzs or BMs. That's our dilemma. If ever we pursue the career of our dreams, we fear we may never be financially content. However, in doing the opposite, we may have enough money to live a comfortable existence, and lose sleep over regrets and unfulfillment.

In our world it seems, there is no such thing as COMPROMISE. It's either you go for it or not, but there is nothing comforting in being in the middle of it all.

One cannot have one's cake and eat it too.

Our marathon conversation breezed thru light-hearted topics like Kris Aquino's quivering insanity and Maricel Laxa and Anthony Pangilinan's intrusive interview by Boy Abunda to more serious and thought-provoking trifles as dreaming of beanstalks and stabbers to "What's Next?" questions and people working for National Geographic. She asked me who's one person I'd like to interview, dead or alive, (like a beauty pageant query), I told her NOSTRADAMUS. And we went on talking about predictions and predilections, stem cells and bovine nerve cell regeneration; how'd she'd like her organs to be donated if and when she dies and how this website told me how I find interest in things most people find boring. We talked about courses of action regarding our respective futures, and credited and discredited people giving us pieces of advice at times when we feel like we've lost the ability to decide on our own.

Depression stinks but it makes for very interesting conversation.