A house is not a home

If a violin string can ache, I would be that string.

For so long I have been strummed and plucked but I tolerated it. Now I’m damaged.

That is the reason why I have been wanting to graduate, not because I want to explore new horizons but because I want to break free from this prison cell you oftentimes call a home. Home is not just a domicile in an exact geographical location but home is where the heart is. It is supposed to be filled with love. It is where a child is hailed by her parents and welcomes her back to their loving arms in times of anxiety or even just in times of doubt. The home I’m living in is not even close to that demarcation.

I go home just to sleep, eat, and do all the hygienic doings. In times of ambiguity I have no one but myself to help me figure things out. I rely SOLELY to myself. I have my mom living under the same roof but I am not welcome to rush to her arms to confide my troubles neither to find answers for my doubts. We might be living under the same sky, under the same roof but one is treated like a stranger to another.  We know nothing about each other’s undertakings. I am an alien to my own home.

The other day one of my teachers in school came up to me and said, “Proud ko bala sa imo.” Tears rolled down my face because those are the words I longed to hear and I finally did but not from the person I wanted to hear it from but from the person I least expected.

My mom has been the wicked witch of my fairytale since high school. My high school life became a horror movie and college is a sequel. Last night we had a firmly big fight. There was an exchange of throbbing confrontations. She is so good at hitting the bull’s eye of my ego and I am not a martyr so I kept thrashing hers back. She even slapped me and I relentlessly raised my brows and rolled my eyes to mock her. Finally, she gave up and sat motionless.  

I sat down. I grabbed a book and read it. And there she was in my peripheral vision. I saw her staring at me but I pretended like I was riveted to the book I’m reading. Her stare lingered on me with grief and chagrin. She was sad and mortified of what I have become- a monster. Perhaps like me, she was wondering how it came to this point. She used to really take care of me. We used to talk about everything whether it be school or my friends or my personal life but that was years ago. Things changed severely and what was once a pleasant home is now just a house.

I noticed that the more I aged, the lesser the love I feel for my mom.

This is why I pledged to myself that I will be the greatest parent that I can be when my time comes. I will not be like my mother who is my number one detractor. I promise to bombard my children with love. I will acknowledge even their smallest accomplishments, listen to their tales of laughter, ease their hearts in times of defeat and most of all, be their number one fan when it comes to everything. This is my definition of a mother. A mother shields her child so that he/she wouldn’t be hurt by anything or anybody. I guess I am an exception to the rule because my own mother is the one causing me excruciating pain.

Last night at the party I hosted, some of our family friends approached her and commended her for raising a lass like me. It pained me even more when I heard her bragging about me. How could she boast of my accomplishments to other people when she couldn’t even tell me straight to my face that she is proud of me?

I’m not looking for big words like, “you make me so proud” or “congratulations”… All I’m asking for is for her to tell me meek words of encouragement like, “good luck” or “you can do it”. She loves me. I know she does. It’s just that she doesn’t know how to show it or she does not want to show it particularly to me.

I should have effortlessly found love at home but I keep looking for it elsewhere. I am no longer happy living in this house.

Just like violin strings, I am chained and the damage is already irreparable. I am incarcerated in this simple infrastructure which is MERELY an exact geographical location – NOTHING NEAR WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN A “HOME”. 

We are our experiences

Has anyone ever told you these exact words: “I hope you see how incredible you are”?

If you were able to read my preceding blog posts you might think that I’m some unfulfilled freak in paranoia, living a very futile life. I always fumed about how talent-less I was and how I see myself as a non-entity. Just today I had a major paradigm shift. All of a sudden, I’m inspired.  

I survived what was apparently the toughest, most agonizing year in college- junior year. Starting it last June was a huge undertaking on my part considering that I was working fulltime as a TSR at Convergys at the same time I was enrolled as a fulltime student at my school. I organized the schedule of my classes so that I would have ample time for school, work, sleep and of course, leisure. I have been juggling everything all at once counting the huge amount of stress that was thrusted upon my shoulders. Eventually, I had to stop working because there had been a conflict with my Journalism class which was on a Saturday and the company I was working for didn’t allow me to miss work because calls would usually be queuing on weekends.  It was a tough decision. I was lured to give up my Journalism class because I really loved my job but somehow that love was won over by my love for writing and the fact that failing a major subject is just downright humiliating so I quit my job and school became my priority.

School has been my number one feeder of stress and junior year was the most challenging of them all.  We had our class play, the publication of our departmental newspaper, The Lead, the annual Bilib Awards and not to mention, overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds of meeting deadlines for our projects in both our major and minor subjects. You have no idea what I’ve endured over the past ten months- never-ending sleepless nights and miserable mornings.

During the first semester there was Advertising which made me carry this ultra-thick book filled with all the advertising jargons, Film Appreciation, which opened my critics’ eye, Theater, with all the excruciating Vietnam exercises and the regular SIPI’s and of course, Journalism and all those copy reading exercises. The second semester was no different except for the fact that it was more stressful. There were Public Relations, Development Communication, Events Management and Writing for TV and Radio which really gave me hell!

working as a "real" employee was the best thing that 
ever happened to me, even better than being in love

Bilib forevermore, I emerged as the champion 
for the Hep2x Hooray game..hahaha!

Believe: A Musical about True Chances
Cast and Prod Staff

the first ever press conference I participated in

I went home w/ my skin tone several shades darker
after playing beach volleyball for MC All Stars

stress-reliever: Masskara street partying w/ friends

interviewing Auke Idzenga of AIDFI for our article

harvest at COPRE

random party at "the secret garden"

night swimming w/ my loves

Papang's Christmas Blow-out

Animo Radio

Bacolaudiat 2010

we defied gravity as we climbed up the mountains of Murcia
to do our documentary

the first time in my life that I got really drunk @ Art District

NEONTROPOLIS

Through them all, I always thought of my incapacities and all the negativities about myself but every time I think about everything I’ve been through for the past school year, I can’t help but be proud of myself for getting out of it alive. My professors were very arduous, they were venomous and good thing I was able to swallow the venom they offered.

So today when someone told me, “I hope you see how incredible you are” made me feel that I am laudable after all. Never did I hear my own mother praise me but hearing these words from this person is unprecedented. It’s nice to know that my efforts are recognized after all. If not for those slave-driver teachers of mine, I wouldn’t be as robust as I am today. Who’d have thought that we’d be able to come up with such superb outputs if not for those projects? I can say that the past school year has been shall I say, a harnessing of what my classmates and I had in us. I am now geared up to conquer yet another school year, no matter how agonizing it may be. Because of everything I’ve been through, I can say with finality that I am ready. BRING IT ON!

Take Me or Leave Me

It’s has never been easy to please everybody. Look, this blog post goes out to all of my detractors out there. I don’t really care if you guys will come across this; it’s just that my tolerance level for crap has already reached its quota and my system can’t take more of it any longer. To defend myself, I am solely expressing my opinion and any of you are free to do likewise if you have outlets such as a blog or whatnot, no holds barred. So, here it goes.

Ever since the start of the school year, that means since June last year, I have never feigned any of my emotions, nor have I shunned the random expression of my opinions. From what I can remember, I was never a bluff. I was humbly “me”. I have always been the crazy-wise-vivacious-brutally frank kind of “me”. I don’t think I’ve changed. If so, hypothetically speaking, what could have prompted the possible change? Nothing peculiar happened to my life except for the fact that life has been giving me so many lemons that sometimes I stop and forget to smell the flowers but, despite that, I swear to god that it has never been my intention to hurt anyone. However, some people think otherwise.

I admit that I am also at fault sometimes because I say some things which are not supposed to be said- me and my big mouth. But I can affirm, with all sincerity that those are mere jokes, said with zero percent ulterior motive. Come to think of it, why would I say things to hurt you? What would it profit me to hurt your feelings? It’s non-lucrative.

I tried to de-escalate the circumstances by being sympathetic and all that but it seems like my struggles were useless. It’s just difficult to look at a person differently when you had so many memories together. I am exuding with love in my heart, although not romantically but I just love to love and I am a person who hates to hate because hating is a waste of my precious time. All these bad vibes are so new to me because I’ve never really been used to clashes and misapprehensions and I believe that everything can be patched up over time. You know what they say, if there’s a will, there’s a way.

Here’s the thing, if you hate me, I wouldn’t care. But please, if you really hate me, don’t treat me like you love me because you’re generating the confusion to yourself. Let’s associate the situation to food. You can’t possibly swallow the food that you hate because if you force yourself to do so, you will eventually puke. So if you can’t swallow it, how much more digest it? Please, do yourself a favor and stop being a plastic. If you hate me, say it right in front of my face and spare yourself from the trouble of going around spreading all the negativity.

Just a little proposition, hating somebody can do you no good so stop it. You will only get annoyed and exasperated everytime you see the person.  But prior to all of that, look at yourself in the mirror first and ponder upon some pertinent matters. Do you think you are perfect that you are indispensible?  You think you haven’t done anything wrong, ever, ever, ever? If the answer is yes, wow! You must be canonized.

It’s a good thing I have some really honest and upright people around me who barrage me with their love and support. They always tell me to stay positive and just concentrate on the good vibes. I’ve got my family and my friends who back me up in all of my endeavors and they take me for what I am. Here are a few lines from my “current favorite song”, Take Me or Leave Me:

Take me for what I am,

who I was meant to be

And if you give a damn,

take me, baby, or leave me.

It’s my favorite song because it encapsulates how I feel right now. I am not changing my behavior or attitude because that’s who I am and there are actually people who love me for what I am. So, to those who despise me, you can either take me as I am or not at all, no doubts, no limits, no reservations.

My resolution is to avoid negative people because they are only vexations to my flamboyant life. Life goes on for me. You know what they say, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade”. It’s just a matter of perspective and I see it as part of God’s greater plan.

Epic Fail

Let’s face it, I’m a total failure.

I belong to a family of prodigies. All of my close lineages on my father’s side (his siblings and my dad himself) are achievers and some can even be considered as over-achievers. They were all valedictorians when they were in elementary and high school and cum laudes when they were in college. Most of them were recipients of national awards in leadership, academics, etc. On my mom’s side, most are accomplished doctors and lawyers. My grandfather was the first chief of justice in the province and my aunt was a bar top notcher without having a review. And then I was born. Saying that I am an under-achiever is a massive understatement.

My life is futile. This morning I had my mock job interview for my Business Communication class and one of the questions was, “What is your greatest achievement in life?” and then it hit me just like a ballistic missile. Sure, I answered that question with ample refinement and poise and I actually landed on the top spot among our batch of interviewees but the actual answer is, “nothing”. There is absolutely nothing praiseworthy in my 19 years of existence. I am already at the peak of my teenage years and yet I haven’t done anything that can be considered as a milestone. Some people already know what they will be after college because they have decisive imaginings in their young lives. I have some classmates who are really so effing good in film editing and film production, some are so good in performing and acting while I am good at nothing. I mean, I know how to do stuff but not to the point that I really outshine in a particular aspect. I know how to do this and I also know how to do that. In other words, I am a jack of all trades but never a master of one and it pains me.

Why was I created, anyway? Sometimes I feel like I don’t really have a purpose in this world. How I wish my mom and dad just had safe sex so that I wasn’t conceived and brought out into this cruel world, full of anguish and drudgery. Look, I’ll be finishing my tertiary education after a year and still, I can’t envision myself working somewhere because I don’t have the so-called “calling”. I envy those people whom I can say were really born to act, to sing, to write, to teach while I lie awake in my bed every night and wonder what my purpose in life is. Is it to suffer? To inflict pain to my parents for being such a bad ass (according to my mom)? Or am I just a non-entity, created just for ornamental purposes? I don’t get it. I feel like I’m not needed. I mean, no one would really cry a river if I die. My family and my friends will not be affected at all if I will die. They will continue to live their typical, blissful lives even without me.

So why the fuck am I still living? I wake up every morning and I just go through life on a one-day-at-a-time basis. It’s terrible.  

I’m not envious of the people who accomplish so much in their lives, neither am I confused of what I would want to be. I am just looking for answers for so many questions- questions that should have been answered a long time ago with the help of the people surrounding me. But to no avail. I endure as a non-entity and you know what’s weird? I’m happy.

I’m happy because there’s something to laugh about every day. The mere fact of me-waking-up is a benediction. Whenever I see my dog’s tail wagging vigorously at his sight of me makes me smile. Every time I see street children pleading for alms, I feel blessed and all those little things like the sound of laughter from a child, a simple smile from an acquaintance and a modest tap at the back make me somehow want to linger on living despite the fact that my purpose of living is still an unknown variable x.

At the very minute I wake up, I say to myself, “This is the day!” but I end up going back to the same bed every night to sleep and say, “It’s okay, tomorrow could be the day”. A huge part of me is still yearning to be invigorated, my thirsty soul wants to be quenched and the queries in my heart are craving for answers.

Hope—that’s all I have and all I’m living for. 

The Road not Taken

This may sound too cliché but I’m taking my chances.

As part of our final project in my WRITING FOR TV AND RADIO class, we were required to present a documentary exposing the prevalent glitches of the Philippine society. My partner and I chose to probe on the theme of poverty particularly poverty at a child’s point of view. After several weeks of deliberation, we finally decided to shoot at the mountains of Mambukal. And that’s where sojourn began…

We were able to capture poverty at its finest. The children there had to walk several miles just to go to school. It actually takes them a couple of hours to reach school which means that they have to wake up a lot earlier. Unlike us, especially me who lives just a few minutes away from school, we still clamor about how tiring it is to go to school. How ironic. They still strive to go to study regardless of their situation, considering that the families there didn’t have stable earnings and they only relied on commissions.

It surely brought about a lot of awareness to me and ten pages wouldn’t probably suffice if I would describe how we captured the lives of the populace at Murcia. So I would now share to you some of our shots which are mostly screen grabs of our videos. I can say that my partner and I have been through a lot but we’ve managed to get through.  I mean, climbing up a very steep highland is no joke. We had to leave the city at daybreak and spend several hours hiking. Hiking is easy. I love hiking. But hiking with several pounds against your back isn’t easy at all. We had to bring our camera, tripod, laptop, clothes and other stuff with us as we were trekking.

We could have chosen to cover the life of a street child instead, to make our lives stress-free. We could have interviewed a juvenile purveyor at the sidewalk just for the sake of compliance but then we didn’t want to defy what the task was all about. It was all about immersing into a communtiy and gaining empirical knowledge. It was our choice- a choice we don’t regret despite the odds. The whole experience was all at once challenging, exhausting, agonizing, but through it all, inspiring.  A road not taken, indeed.