I suddenly realized that reading has become a tedious work these days. It now serves as an action that I need to complete for the sake of meeting an academic requirement. As I follow this new habit, I gradually lost the interest in meeting new characters as I have become busy in understanding (at least trying to understand) the ideas of various local and international literary critics. Then aside from discovering this extensive form of “reading,” I also realized that I lack an important knowledge about Philippine literature.
A dozen of scenarios plays back and forth in my mind. I get sleepless nights, tossing and turning with all these grand images knocking, crawling, and sometimes, frolicking their way to my consciousness. With this kind of dilemma, I set up a small space beside my bed with pieces of paper and sets of pens. This is my refuge as I try to organize the thoughts into actual writing. However, it never works out well.
I end up stunned. Staring blankly at the ceiling right after I opened my eyes from sleep. Whenever I try to remember, the ideas aren’t simply there at all. I’m left with a certain kind of emotion drawn from the event/scenario/whatevs, but the actual scene or thought isn’t present anymore. This is a real struggle especially when I want to write so badly. How I wish I could easily record my dreams and random train of thoughts like in a quick writing exercise where I jot down anything that pops into my mind. This way, I can go back and read through them then slowly figure out how a story can possibly develop from the seemingly balderdash record.
Aside from these challenges, I also end up losing interest in particular topics that I think I miss a lot of good opportunities. This year, I wish to overcome this lazy attitude and complete more written works.
A simple sight of blood upsets me. Even a small cut sometimes scares me. I seem to have a low tolerance for the striking uneasiness of pain or more so with gore. This reaction, however, seems strange to people who know me personally, because I write some dark stories with vivid descriptions. Continue reading On Writing: (1) Dark thoughts, great stories
In a couple of weeks, 2016 is almost over. Today seemed like a great time to look back into some of the memories of my younger years.
Nerdy yet Fun High School
There weren’t much to do when I was in my teens. I was the typical girl who went to school, studied her lessons, followed the rules, and stayed at home. I was only an active, playful, young girl in my elementary days. So, I tried to find some interesting activities when I was in high school. This was the period when I met a lot of friends who gave color to my usually predictable days.
For four years, I was with a group of friends who were all brilliant, funny, clever, and unique in their own ways. We shared a lot of time reading books, sharing stories, finishing group assignments, answering exams, and presenting skits/reports in front of the class. Those memories helped build lasting relationships and opened opportunities to learn about our own personalities. Even though everyone looked nerdy and grade conscious (being in the top section), we still knew how to enjoy a break. Some of the activities in the years we stayed in the school (2005-2009) were simple yet fun and interesting *but, I think many would not be able to relate with this now* 😛
I don’t regularly post about my personal experiences online. There’s no urgency or even the need to share anything about my daily routine or some of the fascinating moments I get to do during the day. But today, it’s different. Not that I suddenly accomplished some extraordinary project, it’s simply difficult to keep the thoughts to myself. My friends also have their own concerns that I so gladly listen to, oh so regularly now. Worries of making mistakes to the woes of the heart.
Dozens of people around me look so happy. Yes, they are. That’s good. I am, too.
This is going to be random, so bear with me if you are still interested in reading.
I listen. I do. I understand most of the time and I try my best to stay longer; reading between the lines or even beyond those. So, whenever people around me start to share, I keep quiet or give a couple of short responses to let them know that I’m still with them. Not simply nodding in approval with those wandering all over the place. They don’t look for someone to butt in after every statement. They want ears to hear their thoughts, arms to grab them for a long hug or even just another being willing to spend some time with them.
This is a common and proper courtesy to give to anyone who wants to share their feelings. How I wish I also get the same from new friends I meet.
Nowadays, I’m not sure why almost everyone around starts to have their unbearable troubles with relationships, love, emotions, commitment, and the likes. It’s okay to think about these things at times, it’s just that I’m being “exposed” to so many of these for weeks now. IT’S DRAINING.
Though the situation may sound dreary already, there’s still something worse. I get to share my own “love concerns.” This is where things don’t seem too well on my part.
When people get surprised, they talk A LOT. We (yes, including myself) tend to overreact to situations/events/experiences that seem unusual based on our own “standards” because we try to find the meaning behind those scenarios. So, it’s no surprise that people who hear me share about my SSB (single since birth) status freak out most of the time. Some are better in hiding their surprise while others, not so much. Honestly, that’s not bad but when they end up giving me lectures, love advice, not believing a word I say or even frankly asking me questions like Anong problema sa iyo? (What’s wrong with you?). Damn! Those words sting.
At the end of the conversation, the problem of being single is undoubtedly part of my actions or even simply of my being.
I smile and stay as polite as I could be, but when I remember those moments, it hurts. I have my own insecurities, flaws, mistakes, and other worries to carry on my shoulders. I may look so jolly most of the time and shrug those comments off, but how I hope that people can become more sensitive.
Looking intimidating, being strong, trying to be outspoken, staying in touch with friends… Since when did these traits become a negative characteristic of a person? Though, intimidating isn’t that much of a friendly impression. Still, I don’t think that I’m strange. Everyone is strange depending on each individual standard. I can be random, chatty, and importunate, but I know my boundaries. This doesn’t mean that being in a relationship is …
I think this is going to be a long rant, so will keep some for intimate talks with friends. Just wanted to put some of my thoughts for a while, online. In public.
Ever since I’ve come across the videos of Sarah Kay in college, I learned to appreciate words and the beautiful rhythm of spoken word poetry. Personally, I don’t think that I have the courage to present my poems or other written works out loud that’s why I love listening to others confidently sharing their works. How brave are they to openly share their thoughts and receive praises (and criticisms). It’s stunning and inspiring.
The first video that I’ve seen:
Words, experiences, and reflections. I find these all helpful elements in the creation of poetry, in all forms and any lengths.
Sarah Kay’s not the only one I constantly listen to, I also follow some of the works of Phil Kaye. They both share that deep yet relatable experience in their spoken word.