How do you read?

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Tagalog comics, English novels, Japanese manga, TV series subtitles, advertisements, newspaper reports, online article bits, and more: there are a lot of text that we read every day. They can be mundane, profound, inspiring, heartbreaking, or whatever the reader incorporates to them. However, there are times that reading is usually related to the opportunity of escape. When one grabs a novel of his or her liking, there is a great chance that that person chose such for a quick relief from the routines of his or her life. Many think that reading is only associated with the reading of novels or stories, but it is not the case.

Text is all around us. They convey different messages as they are in different forms. This is just a thought that I wish to explore in the coming days. What do you think?

I am ready to fall in love

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Has anyone really been ready to love?
Is there a certain schedule that you can mark in your calendar and finally set aside for a couple of days, weeks or even months? If there is such a thing, I wish someone could tell me the proper steps right now.

Is there a certain schedule that you can mark in your calendar and finally set aside for a couple of days, weeks or even months? If there is such a thing, I wish someone could tell me the proper steps right now.

Throughout the years, I have learned to simply shrug off the comments of people around me asking, telling, and sometimes, arguing on my current romantic/relationship status. There were moments from high school to my university days that people around me started meeting new circles of friends, enjoyed the companies of other cliques, and dated people they thought were “the one.” Now, I think with the many stories I’ve heard, and first-hand experiences that I’ve witnessed throughout those years, I also learned to stay aloof from the feelings of jealousy as my friends spent more time with their significant others; anger as they share their pains from a failed relationship; and distrust as they introduce new faces with glee and beaming smiles. In that process, I’ve led myself to a comfortable state of sympathy, empathy, and patience. But, there’s that particular feeling that I missed, curiosity.

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On Writing (3): Language – Filipino or English?

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Filipino or English, what should I use to better share my ideas? 

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With a background in communication studies specifically in language and culture, I learned that there isn’t a “better” language. Moreover, the thought of providing a distinct hierarchy of languages that makes one the best is affected by various factors which can be seen within the society and outside the society. There isn’t that one particular criterion that lets you identify one language that is better than another. The use of a particular mode of communication is also a result of people’s interactions and are associated with various factors such as the community’s history, values, and traditions.  I won’t expound on the minute details for each one as you may search for it in various scholarly articles (communication theories, language acquisition, multilingual concepts).

In my own writing, however,  I still am bothered by this concept. Even with the idea of using various languages as an individual element in communication, I get troubled whenever I try to choose over the two languages that I know. Like right now, I am using English. Ha! Continue reading

On Writing (2): Lost interest, missed opportunity

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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.

Still Oblivious but Learning

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When he gives you time, does that mean it’s already a sign
That he’s interested in investing his heart?

When he asks about you, does that mean he cares
Or simply an instinct he’s compelled to do?

There are so many possibilities. Different answers, varying timing.

Guard your heart.

Guard your heart to the sudden jolt of emotion.
Guard it against the surprising attention.
Guard but keep yourself open.
Guard but listen.

After all, maybe it’s time to give love a chance.


Thoughts in response to people’s concerns about my (perpetually)  single status and their constant curiosity about my actions toward this matter. These are the questions that I still don’t have answers to, but hopefully, in time, I might finally discover the answers to them. 

Great Beginning, Failed Ending

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Whenever I try to write something out of the blue, there are dozens of ideas popping out of my mind. Sometimes my writing can’t run as fast as the thoughts spreading all over my head. This is when I become too lazy to browse through the words, images, or sounds under the pile. So, I begin a story with colorful settings, engaging actions, interesting characters, but as it progresses, the life withers. Slowly. Fading. My mind catches too many distracting new sights, music, words, etc. etc.

This tale goes on and on for days, weeks, months, or even years. A great story half untold lies beneath the mountain of wavering spirits and forgotten dreams. Sometimes I am able to walk back. Scan those unfinished works and do my best to continue where I left. But the feeling isn’t the same. The memories are only fragments of myself. Change is inevitable. That half-written great poem, short story, or novel will never be the same. All of those beginnings might sound inspiring, charming, or even fascinating. In reality, none of them will have a great ending.

I write like this. As I learn more about myself, the random, annoying side of me takes over. Great beginning, but ultimately failed and dragging ending leads the writing.