This is WRITING?

For the past several years, I have been criticized by many whenever someone reads what I have written or when someone will borrow my notes in the class. The first impression that I will get from them: “Can you still understand this?”


True. My handwriting has been too mediocre and for the past five years, the style of own handwriting (too hard to picturesque without using a glint of imagination) hasn't changed nor did my writing vox. But does it really matter at all whether your handwriting is too obscure to read as if it was intended to ruin the ability of the person to read? Maybe. But the reality is there: it is one of my minor flaws as a human being.


I don't write in my journal as if I am writing a theme paper ready for submission or for checking. The theme paper is intended for formality or precision while in my journal I can write even in Swahili or in feeblish grammar and use gobbledygook and informal terms. Slang? Sometimes. Freestyle maybe. But my point here is the liberty to write in which way you want to without others dictating you which one is right or wrong because for God's sake it is your right in this democratic society to express yourself in whatever means! I don't want to strict myself in a very stubborn and uncomplicated style of communicating thoughts to others. It is only by means of free writing then can somebody understand what you think and feel unlike those status updates in Facebook and tweets, which were limits you in expressing your thoughts fully. Only a parcel of it can be posted. You don't expect to post a status update as long as this one or even longer? Or maybe for others it is otherwise. But hey, come to think of it.


And the reason why I am posting in this blogsite is to be able for anyone to view some of my entries in my journal and read them. Too bored to search and explore the inner depths of the Web that you even stumbled in this page.

(Yawn. What is happening in the Philippine politics?)

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HELLO?

“The only tired I was, was tired of giving in.” –Rosa Parks

Ang hirap magsulat kung wala ka naman talaga na maisusulat na mahalaga o interesante sa mata ng mga mambabasa. Minsan, sumagi rin sa isip ko na ano nga bang saysay ng aking pagsusulat? Parang naging escapism sa akin ang mundo nito sa mga nakalipas na buwan na nagbibigay sa akin ng “ecstatic feeling” upang makalimutan ang mga bagay bagay na gumugulo sa aking buhay. Kumbaga, ito yung Fire Exit na binubuksan ko kapag nag-aalab na sa init ang buong lugar at tinutupok na nito ang lahat ng bagay na meron sa loob. No choice. Sa ayaw ko’t sa hindi, ang option ko ay gamitin yun or else patay ako. At mas trip ko magsulat kapag ako ay galit at asiwang-asiwa na sa mundo.

Habang palawak ng palawak ang mundong kinalulugaran ko sa ngayon na lalong nagpaparamdam sa akin na para akong alien ay pawalay naman ako ng pawalay sa mga mahalagang tao sa akin at ang hindi ko halos matanggap sa aking pagkatanto ay wala na talaga akong malapitan sa mga taong itinuring kong kaibigan noong mga nakalipas na panahon. Parang dati, okay naiintindihan ka pa nila kasi kaklase mo sila at parang iisa lang ang mundo at doon lang umiikot ang lahat. Habang ngayon, sa sobrang layo ng gap nagkakaroon na ng void. Parang minsan ayoko na lang magsalita kahit na sa totoo ay sobrang rami kong gustong sabihin. Kasi alam kong wala naman silang magiging feedback doon dahil preoccupied sila sa mga bagay bagay na malayo naman sa sitwasyon ko at ng sa iba.

Mahirap maging idealista, makata o dalubhasa dahil wala talagang gustong umintindi sayo. Naranasan ko na ito ng maraming beses parang pakiramdam ko talagang alien at out of this world ako. Hindi naman ako geek, hindi rin genius. Siguro medyo above average lang pero ang masama doon ay nakulong ako sa maling impresyon ng mga tao’t hindi na ako nabigyan ng pagkakataon na ipakita sa kanila kung sino ba talaga ako. Isang proweba ay ang description sa akin sa yearbook noong high school.

(To be continued…)

Why Lord Voldemort disturbs me

The sublime imagination of J.K. Rowling created a very mysterious and vehement villain which instantly became an icon of evil, a shadowy reflection of the dark side equalled to the famous villain of Star Wars, the evil Darth Vader. But unlike Vader, who from the very beginning was a good natured young Jedi, Voldemort a.k.a Tom Marvolo Riddle had a very dark past since he was a child. He is a disturbingly exceptional boy who existed in the world to be vile and wicked. Superiority matters to him for he thinks he is different compared to others (Yeah he can talk to snakes and his blood lineage is a bit impressive, being the Heir of Salazar Slytherin.). He likes to be special, no wonder he became immortal and resorted to a very cruel means - murder. Years ago when I was reading the sixth Harry Potter book, the past of Lord Voldemort is shown in the private lessons between Harry and Dumbledore and it got me thinking for a while as if I have known a particular person which is almost similar to him (except the looks of course!).

I have known that “very particular person” before as a very bright student who doesn’t want to be overpowered in terms of academics and she had this behavior which is a bit unpleasant to me as if she is the only person who has the sheer ability to be bright and special in the class. The statement here is somehow hypothetical, an observation rather than the accepted truth but I am very much sure that it is true. I admit she is smart and she deserves the recognition and praise she got but the deeper I look and sense her character, the more that something disturbs me that I for one cannot grasp- the occurrence in my head that part of Tom Riddle is living inside her, like a Horcrux if one may say so except of course, she doesn’t kill anyone and she is not bad at all. It is just surprising for me that a literary character like Voldemort shared a distinct similarity to her. I am not writing this to make a scandal or say libelous stories. I am just reminiscing my thoughts simply because it is still fresh inside me. I am not an enemy of her and I don’t want to be one. And luckily, she had already changed. Haha.

If you know the person I am talking about, just keep it in yourself. It is just a mere realization of certain things which encompass the weirdness of the adage that has been so famous than ever : “stranger than fiction”. (Drumroll please)