There’s a battle in my mind.
Today was my first day back at school. Just like most of the first days I’ve endured in the past, at least one of my professors had the need to put me on the spot.
I hate it when they do that. They all have the same “coincidental” action of throwing me a perfectly sane question (thus earning the attention of virtually everyone in the class room and easily labeling me as a poor, pathetic student), except that it is never sane enough for me to answer eloquently.
I’ve always been at a loss for words. And it isn’t the speechless kind of being at a loss for words. It’s the literal loss–not finding the right words, not knowing the right way to respond, not comprehending the question enough to fish out a good answer. And it sucks. You’d think that because I’ve had so many “opportunities,” (what with professors always randomly calling out that mysterious name) I’ve been able to perfect my speaking skills.
But no-o. That isn’t the way it is for me. I’m just horrible with my speaking; I don’t know what to answer to normal questions; I don’t know how to control my audience when they’re obviously not listening to my kind of well-prepared speech; I don’t know how to speak clearly and audibly, such that the person at the back can hear me; I just can’t speak well.
Which is why I think writing is so much better. At least when you’re a writer, you can play around with your words until it’s time to submit a composition. At least when you’re a writer, you can publish anonymously and not lose it when people criticize it to be trash. At least when you’re a writer, you’re the one who’s in control. You don’t necessarily have to care about your readers, because if this is what you want to write, then you should just go ahead and create your masterpiece. What does it matter to them if this is what you know and feel like writing? What is it to them if they don’t find it as marvelous as you think it is?
Don’t get me wrong. Constructive criticisms, when completely unbiased (although sometimes biased comments can do tricks), help improve something, so writers should not shy away from them.
What I am saying is, it doesn’t matter to anyone if your work looks like trash to them because it’s yours. Your work is layers of experience and your interpretations, and you have the right to feel darned good about it.
If there’s anything I don’t have a stock of, it’s self-esteem, so this post has just about exhausted any sense of self-esteem I have been able to pile up. It’s actually a sudden burst of emotion, if you will, since minutes ago I was just wallowing over my underdeveloped writing skills.
To turn to the negative side of my rant…
It feels so awful that I own no creativity whatsoever in my humanity. I can’t think up a quick answer, can’t look at paintings and comment on their beauty, can’t draw or paint, can’t write creatively…
I say so because my class in Literature earlier shook me. It briefly introduced me [again] into the world of ComArts–why I didn’t choose it, why I will forever be fascinated by it, and why I suck at any form of literary writing. Once upon a time I wrote poems. Or at least tried to. I’ve had my sad attempts at short story writing. (Of course, I could never get past three pages so I just gave up.) I’ve had my pathetic thoughts for a novel.
But I’ve never really succeeded.
I never knew it took so much effort to write that way, until I tried last semestral break. I am so used to essays, research papers, news articles, feature articles, radio scripts and what-have-yous (I appreciate having these around because they, more or less, have a structure that I/we can understand or imitate, but creative writing doesn’t give you that. There’s no formula for poems and short stories.), but I have nothing to be proud of when it comes to creative writing. I’d much rather read, than write, when it comes to creative pieces.
Sometimes I think I’m just too boring or dull to have anything good to write about, or that I’m too lazy, too unexperienced, too unconfident, too… well, you get the idea.
But my professor earlier made quite a good point: literature is interpretation–it’s a pile of meanings, and this is where you will find answers to the questions you most want to be answered (not the exact words).
…which is why I know more attempts in creative writing are worth it, because I may not have felt every texture of life or tasted every flavor of it, but I do have a way of looking at things that are mine alone (i.e., my personal interpretation), so maybe there is hope for me yet. Maybe I do have something to say after all.
[And I say this after an hour of contemplating my complete lack of communication skills and shortage of creativity. Nice. There goes my credibility.]
For once… Why can’t I be content.
Beware: An absolutely egotistic, self-absorbed, senseless, and seemingly (okay fine, REALLY) boastful entry follows.
What is it with grades that make them matter to me so much? How can other people live with satisfactory, or even low, ones and not grieve over them?
That sucks you know, that I struggle so much with getting good grades; that I care so much it would be enough to make me breakdown if I get completely low ones.
It’s kind of the way older people who work equate their salary with their usefulness or something. It scares me that when I’m done being a student (technically: being within the walls of formality), I’d equate myself with my paycheck and not my genuine ability. Besides, at the present state, I am obviously not factoring in my talents in the equation.
I’m afraid because although I really want to become rich someday, enough that I’d be able to donate money to some health/environment/welfare organization or even sponsor a child, I do know how to be realistic, that I understand I might wind up poor. I do know how to look myself in the mirror and tell myself, “Face it, you’d have to be super lucky to achieve something like that someday, and how lucky are you right now?”
But then again, it isn’t about luck, I guess. It’s about determination, self-esteem, self-respect, and the ability to see things as an opportunity.
Perhaps everything I lack in the right amounts.
I got two of my class cards today (out of the six I need). I was kind of dreading getting them, because I know nothing can go perfect and that I’d most likely get sad over them or something.
Like I always do.
Still, I needed a sad excuse to get out of the house (refer to previous entry), and while I was out, I had to accomplish something.
The good thing about knowing I wouldn’t get my way, is that I hardly expect now. I don’t have an expected grade at the start of the semester. I don’t even try to imagine what grade I’d get as the semester progresses.
But none of those preparations of expecting the worst helped heal the blow I received earlier.
How it hurt that, no matter how hard I try to escape that grade, every semester, and in at least one subject, I always garner it. It’s like trying to outrun a mountain lion; it will always win against me. Like there’s no escaping it, because maybe I was cursed to be this way. Maybe it’s some type of gift from academic hell.
I declare this post as seemingly (or really) boastful because I know that for most people, my troubles and anxieties are stupid, and I am foolish to think that there is a possibility I’d ever be happy, like those other students who never fail to get unos every semester. It crushes me that I always lack something, anything, in achieving my goal. For this semester, at least, it was to avoid receiving that grade.
That grade is a dos, which would probably be heaven for anyone but somebody like me. Why can’t I achieve the one thing that would be perfection for me, when others have it so easy?
It pains me to see that ordinary people can achieve the grades I want (without a dos). Not that I’m extraordinary in any sort of way–it’s just that the ones who get the grades I envy are the people who I wouldn’t expect to be so good.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t care, that I’d be like other people who didn’t give a damn. But it’s hard. I was just wired this way; I instantly regret it when I let myself flunk all over the place (not that I’ve seriously done so), especially since it’s probably the only thing I am capable of: studying and getting “good” grades.
Plus, sometimes I feel like it’s the only thing that matters to my parents. Like it’s the only way they’ll see me and truly appreciate my existence…
It’s quite far-fetched, I know, but who can know for certain? People are different..
This time.
So this time it’s a scientific paper I’m busy with. But I’m not exactly cramming. That’s because I don’t want to. The last time I crammed a scientific paper, I hardly got to sleep a wink. It was crazy. I went to class and my eyes hurt so hard that I wanted to close them, but each time I did they only hurt more. [ugh. that sounds ugly. it's like i'm talking about something else..]
You know what I realized this morning? It’s that even though my broadcast did not go as smoothly as planned, it’s no use wallowing in it. What I can do is listen to other people’s broadcasts and support them. At least that way I can feel good about complimenting people sincerely. At least that way they’d feel appreciated, something I’m having a hard time feeling lately.
Anyway, I can’t wait for the semestral break to start. I’m so tired, every week of my life is hell. I want and need a break. I’ve already got plans. But I will not let myself lose sight of my goal. I’ve gone this far, it won’t make sense to let go.
Destiny belongs to those who hold on…
Parallelism Between Concepts in School and in Real Life.
One can want so much…
I am reminded of my Economics class, where Professors break their necks getting students to understand the fundamental concept of it all: wants are unlimited, and resources scarce.
It’s almost funny how it can also apply to things abstract. But then again, most academic concepts are; we just don’t know it at the time when its being discussed in class. As time goes by and we experience more of what life has to offer, it is then that we remember the lessons we learned at school.
Currently, I seem to have a thirst for so many things, and they’re not all concrete. Yes, I do want more books than I already own (I’m quite a collector, reader, and materialist…), a closet-full of new clothes that will promote a new look, my personal laptop, the latest camera that I can actually afford, and… the list will go on. But most recently, I have noticed my want to meet new people and bond with them, plus my sudden but not wholly unexpected interest in a person I thought I’d forgotten long ago… A person I have not talked to in years. A person I always kind of ‘go back’ to liking.
I don’t regard this recurring sense of liking as a negative thing, but I most certainly want it to go away. It’s unhealthy for me to keep doing this to myself. The thing is, I’m not. Of course such things are necessarily involuntary; If they weren’t, it would be too easy. I’d be able to control my feelings for the guy. On the other hand, those that admire me who get nothing in return from moi would also be capable of driving their emotions away. Oh. That last statement? That is if anyone is at all interested in me.
Anyway, I guess we all have to go through suffering. Without it we’d never learn.
At least admitting to myself that I am still in the cycle of liking one single person over and over again has helped me realize that I’m still a normal, functioning human being.
‘Cause I almost thought I wasn’t anymore. All I do everyday is watch movies online, eat, read, and write. Not much of a life. Not much at all.
Sudden Realization.
School days really are nearing… I’ve kind of said that before, you know, with ’summer is about to end’ but it takes a whole new perspective when you stress what’s coming. Personally, I have a lot of plans for this school year. I really want to meet new people and develop friendships; I desperately want to move on with my life and do something new. I think sometimes the only way to let go of whatever hurt you in the past is to go out into the world and start over, instead of moping around and wallowing over your misery. Just let yourself see sights you’ve never seen or feel things you never have, and the process of moving on takes hold. It’s hard, I bet, and I’ve only just learned that it could be so more effective than avoiding human contact for fear of getting hurt again. I anticipate the looming school days with open arms; I expect so many new students that I could possibly bond with. Hopefully, my recipe for self-improvement and personal growth will prove itself efficacious. Hopefully…
Resurrection.
I have just risen from the dead. I haven’t written here in forever. I was almost going to delete this account, thinking I’d forgotten my password altogether, but given that I still knew my password, and given that I have recently been inspired to blog thanks to the person who got me to create this account (he does not know me; well, not yet), I thought I should save this. Besides, I need to stop this cycle of starting something and not ending it. Not that there would ever be an end to weblogs.
Today was special. I went out with my aunt and my cousin at IRRI to attend this seminar on beauty stuff, which is normally so not my thing, but trailed along anyway out of respect and the expected ultimate bonding experience it had in store for me. I haven’t been with them in so long it feels like years. Oh, wait. It has been years.
I realized I missed my older cousin. We’re practically six years apart (and I’m not even sure) but we’ve shared a lot of things together since I was an infant. Seriously. She’s even lent me clothes. Aside from that we’ve borrowed CDs, mp3s, books, and notes from each other. She’s in the same university I’m in, only she’s about to graduate. She’s taking up Veterinary Medicine, and that’s why I got up to her in UP.
Anyway (expect this word often), we got to talk about my current situation, which, due to the vastness of the internet, obvious exposure, and security reasons, I will not care to elaborate. She and her mother gave me advice on how to deal with it. It’s so difficult but sometimes I find myself satisfied. Forgive me for being extremely weird, but it helps me focus on something other than what I’m used to, like my academics and my social life. For once, I’m devoting myself to it, no matter how subtle my actions and how much of a coward I really am. This storm came for me to be stronger, more active, and involved. No storm shall come to pass without having left anyone stronger and with a deeper outlook in life. Maybe this is my chance.
My whole 2007 was more than depressing and irksome. I guess I never got to put an end to my year 2007 in this blog, much less in my journal or microsoft word files. But this I will say: All that I went through last year is one for the books. I have learned, felt, and met so much. If the present fiasco I am participating in is only serving its purpose of changing my selfish and pathetic ways, then fine.
I’ll do whatever I can to learn out of it.
Was it Boyle or Charles?
Sometimes things don’t need tedious justifications. Friends should just support you, give you space to straighten out the crappy foldings and markings made about by emotional stress, and trust that you know what you’re doing. Because you are the one who knows yourself the best.
Time pressure ruins the beauty of things. It is best to wait for something or someone to come around than to force them to do things. The more pressure you apply, the less willing a person can be. It is like when parents are too strict towards their children that they can barely breathe. They will never learn and be open enough to do what their parents want them to do. They may follow the rules, but only because they need to. Not because they want to. The most important factor is what you feel-how you feel. Because it is your desire to do something that will best distinguish things like freewill and forced entry.
* * *
Maybe that description people associate me with really does define me: They say I’m slow; slow at getting some jokes, slow at understanding a few personal and emotional things. That’s what they say.
You know what’s funny? They keep saying that, and yet now some are pressuring me to accept someone into my life easily-quickly-FASTly. (ugly word though. just stressing.) Like they don’t know I like to take time in considering things.
* * *
I do, of course, comprehend that time is not easy to give. That to let someone wait for nothing guarantees loss of sanity. So maybe if you can’t wait, then move along. It doesn’t matter.
The thing is, I can’t believe some poeple still want to stick around when they know they didn’t get the last thing they waited for.
nothing else matters.
“Never look back, they said
How was I to know,
I’d miss you so…”
I love who I am. I love my life and everything I have gone through. I have encountered so many things… They made me strong. Although in certain aspects, I know I am still weak.
I am now missing my high school days. I am missing my youth, my innocence (I am still this, perhaps), my sanity. I wish I could go back. Badly. I slightly wish I never made it to college. I am losing so many people… And I don’t know how to correct things. It would be cheating to correct those mistakes. Like I failed an exam and I have no ability to erase those imprinted wrongdoings…
I could possibly lose myself in this. Damn this sucks.
drama: part one thousand
I feel like I died, and no one gave a damn. What am I in the lives of others? Why do I regard everyone as special to me? Why the hell do I care what others think of me? I wish I could be part of the group of people who spent their lives being trash to others or being total angels and not think about the impression that they gave to the people around them. I wish I could function properly even when I knew that no one valued me. I wish I could live life without being so dramatic.
But if I didn’t feel this way, then maybe I knew no love for others. If I weren’t so sensitive and caring, I probably wouldn’t have friends, per se. Perhaps I would be completely alone in the world without all the shit of spending every minute wondering if people regarded me the same way I regarded them.
The thing is, I’m losing my sense of security. I am now learning the hard way that things will never be permanent. Friendships can die overnight. No one can stay with you forever. People change.
we can’t have the freedom to control everything…
if we only had the freedom to acquire the things we want most; if we only had the freedom to say something and really mean it, and not just say the things because we “need” to; if we only had the power to control, as in fully control, our emotions, thoughts, and feelings… well then i guess things would be a lot better now.
but that’s just it. because we don’t have the power to change things that “just happen” we have to live with it. because we cannot control certain things, they must have been “meant to happen”
all things occur for a reason.
only time will uncover all of those reasons for us. we can always question why the world is being cruel to us, but to no avail. the answers will come some other time, when we’ve overcome the trial and ordeal. it’s so ironic, no? not to mention crazy. and messed up. but that’s the way things are…
that’s reality…
