It is the toughest week for me as a public servant. But what’s tough isn’t my job at all, What’s tough, is my love for our people–for it is something I can never put before myself. To them, my principal, I owe my education and professional development. And I am very grateful.
In fact, I rather work for free than go against anyone. I rather be broke than put anyone at a disadvantage while my pocket flourish. To eat three-times a day at Wendy’s (with just side salads), nuts as my snack, any Tall at Starbucks in the morning, with lots of water till night—God, thank God! I’m so alive–I’m contented with that already. I don’t see myself less of anyone; nor do I see my people less of any societal standards. But I’m not against anybody doing any lucrative business. It’s just that I opted to be a public servant. I strive to be a good one everyday of my life–Just like how I strive for eloquence when I write–That if it is stupidity to work harder than hardest and be prudent, then I am one. Note that I didn’t get a medal, trophy, bus pass neither a sandwich from doing pro bono for many years. But I survived nothingness with my dignity intact–through–and–in the rich companies of my fellow poor–and it WAS my ugly truth! Oh, so ugly that I always fell behind returning likes and comments.
Yes, from going back to school, to volunteering, to exercising, to blogging (gosh!) to turning nights into days–winters into spring (at least)–I juggle it all in defiance of fate. I’m trying to make it right; and I’m not stopping . Though I have sworn duties, which make me work like a MOFO—-and yeah, I LOVE IT: I’m trying to make it right. Because, I see ugliness in all of these as opportunities to make a difference to many lives. It’s humbling. It’s beautiful.
What’s also beautiful? I love this blog too! Just as I love my blogger friends too–for this virtual wall is not wall enough to discount the warmth of those kind fellows who supported me for many years. It’s humbling too. Indeed, they’re my people too. So to them, my heart always belongs too regardless of my or their likes or even in the absence of those. They kept me company in this Digital wilderness since 2006. For that long? With this lousy me? Goodness! So I cry unabated for my shortcomings, because I know, they’re good people too.
I don’t own my heart. My people own it. They’re my strength. I don’t own my soul. My passion owns it. It’s my glory. My life is borrowed. I own nothing nor anyone in this world.