Blog Shout-Out: Being in Love with the Urban Sinner

I only had the privilege of working with my buddy Phil for my first super-short year at BLCU, where I'm still teaching.  Since last year, he's returned to his home in the Philippines (yes, he's Phil from the Philippines), where he's been working and living and figuring out life.  Even though our time together was short, it was rich with laughter and memories, and he's still my hands-down favorite colleague.  We'd get together for lunch and dish about our students, wonder if they gossiped about us, and swapped stories of our past sinful, and often regrettable, escapades.  I miss him whenever lunch time rolls around because- although my new colleagues are wonderful- it's simply not the same.  

Sometimes you meet those people with whom you are instantly comfortable.  Old souls who still know how to tell a good dirty joke and throw back a few beers before it's time for lunch.  People who aren't ashamed to admit that going out to bars and clubs is getting tiring and pathetic and perhaps we're prematurely submitting ourselves to the dooms of middle-ageism.  Phil is one such man.  And even if the distance gets to us and we aren't able to keep up this international friendship of ours, I know that I will always remember him as the best lunch buddy a girl could ask for in a strange land that we're awkwardly trying to make homes in as single people.


So, I hope he doesn't mind, but I simply had to share this post that he wrote on his blog, aptly titled The Confessions of the Urban Sinner.  This one post, which is about an evening he spent with his parents on their 52nd wedding anniversary, made me miss him more than ever before, and reminded me of the one struggle I also face every time I turn my back on my parents when I climb back onto that plane headed to wherever it is I am going.  Don't get me wrong- living internationally is amazing and an experience I've never regretted.  But there are times when I am back home and wonder if I've shot myself in the foot by leaving behind loose ends and missing all the wonderful little moments that turn familial bonds into the memories you cling to when you feel like killing each other.  Those horrible holiday experiences where one second, we're enjoying a meal together, then yelling at each other, crying, then moving onto dessert and karaoke without missing a beat.  Man, what can replace that?


I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that Phil would be the one to remind me of this poignant little point.  Still, I miss him.  If you have a chance, please read his post.  He is an incredible writer, and I think there is much we can learn from his observations and experiences. 


I miss you so much, Phil.  Be well.

The lunch crew on one of our legendary lunches in Beijing: sweet Lulu, me, and dear Phil.