Not that MD, the Other MD

Hi M—, 

With the deadline of multiple submissions looming, it is hard to Zen and just write in Filipino. Or maybe in my case, a code-switch between Tagalog and English. I've listed down multiple writing prompts and plot devices relating to a contest or a call for submission, but I cannot seem to start things. 

Am I, yet again, on another episode of writing slump? 
Or, was this because I was enjoying (or suffering) this hot summer?

For context, while everyone was so busy with visitors coming in-and-out of our corporate site last week, I was so excited to get to know them and talk to them. Coupled with the PRPB discussion of Nick Joaquin and the essence of reading his works, my extrovert energy was fully recharged. While the workloads were overwhelming, talking to people, hosting and merely networking is another form of therapy for me. I got to have my "Ako nga beh" moments with them, sharing about the doom and gloom of massive layoffs while asking for lifehacks on how to be a millennial leader, et cetera. 

Over the last week, a Managing Director visited us to "check on the shop". The usual reporting of our developments from last year, some metrics here and there, and corporate decisions that will prep us for greater heights. But I am writing now not because of those pains; I am writing about his stay. And I was so ecstatic when he gave me snippets of wisdom on writing fiction and self-publishing, and a pragmatic "You know that you won't earn much from writing, right?" and I rebutted him, "I don't want to be filthy rich, I want to be remembered." That sheer assertive tone I gave to him was a kindred-spirit-exchange of sorts. Maybe he wasn't like those leaders who embrace capitalism as thick as one's own blood, maybe he has that same working-class awareness. 

When we have yet encountered each other on the "spARC conversations", he opened that he was indeed a scholar, an immigrant to the foreign land, and lucky to have a wife who writes and leads. He sends money back to his homeland, supports a passion project pro-bono, and disconnect by listening to podcast as a white noise in the commute. That reinforces the idea that "hey, maybe you are indeed like me". I am a moderator in a book club (pro-bono project), a graduate in a State University (aka "iskolar ng bayan"), and previously lived in Mumbai and London because of work (maybe this can count as a short-term immigrant). I don't have a wife, but I write and I lead (in my own little bubble).

After those discussions I came to him and gave my thanks:
"Thank you for having the same sensibilities of an immigrant and of a millennial."

He answered back, "No worries, as long as our minds are in sync."

I know deep down, I have multiple competitors to add him in a roster of mentors, someone to look up to in terms of digging the corporate gig. I gave them that. They might needed that drive to push through the daily. I am as happy as-is: looking afar from a safe distance, remembering that somehow, we have had that reciprocity of a little conversation about life. 

And if you get to read this little letter someday, I hope this anecdote can get you even on your heavy days. 

See you around, 
E—

PS: By the way, let me brag: he gave me the wife's email address!!! So my assignment now is to read her work — both fiction and non-fiction — and be able to formulate questions. Chat to you soon!