I never thought I could write. People only tell me that I am good at it. I never took them seriously. I just had a knack for words & sometimes thoughts just really overflow that I need something to catch it. That’s how I accidentally stumbled upon a pen & paper & realized what I could do about it. Although sometimes, I admit it, I get tired of it especially if no one seems to read you.
But most of the time I feel the itch. The urge to document something lingers in my mind & keeps my heart beating with excitement. It sometimes gives me insomnia. However most of the time it outruns my pace. I can’t catch up.
Being the determined person I am I never gave up on writing. This gift of mine as they say has been in a slumber & from time to time just like a volcano it erupts. It’s like an addiction but no rehab will ever cure it. It’s a good thing anyway.
And so I am here again typing like a hurried man on my computer keyboard running against time to imprint all those words too eager to come out from my mind & fingers. I haven’t had lunch yet but the feeling’s really gratifying.
As I restart this blog page I believe it would be important to trace how my relationship with words started & why it became such a passion.
Early in life I was exposed to books courtesy of my doting aunt & quick-witted grandmother. They were the people responsible for exposing me to the world of written words. I enjoyed it. I even craved for it while still being a child filled with innocence.
Right now it would be an understatement to say that together with my daily glass of milk I fed on books. I grew up with it. I started munching on Children’s Library Encyclopedias. My most memorable read back then was about the world of insects. This was how I learned that things little creatures such as fireflies, dragonflies, beetles, ladybugs & ants exist. Not only do they exist they also thrive just like the human species. It was funny because I discovered them first before well-loved fairy tales which should have been a general reading prescription for children of my age.
I read in English & by the age of eight I was into Tom Sawyer. I was hooked by his adventures with Huckleberry Finn. They lived such an exciting though quite laidback country life. Unconsciously my imagination about boyhood But reading them thought me good English. Thanks to Mark Twain.
When I was in Third Grade I wrote a fairy tale as part of a school project. I don't remember details of the story now but I remember how it looked. I wrote it in a short brown folder ready for exhibition. It was a typical tale of a princess falling in love with her prince but the whole kingdom is threatened to perish by evil elements. It was a tragic love story & I vividly designed my folder by adding drawings into it with blue green as the dominating color as it represented the kingdom I created being in the middle of a lush, dark forest but when roamed you'll discover a majestic blue sea lying in its outskirts.
I was too eager submitting it. My parents got to read it & I have never seen them prouder as before. It didn't make the cut though. Never got exhibited. I realized my classmates had better stories to tell.
I went back to reading . And reading did I do more. I coaxed my mom to borrow books for me after school even before I was issued my own borrower's card. I had to wait until Fourth Grade before being entitled to one.
Not being able to borrow books I stayed in the library after school hours. I wouldm refuse to go home not unless the library doors close. I would read different books ranging from classic fairy tales to pre-teen mystery novels. This is how I came to know the Hardy Boys & soon enough I would often use them for my English class' book reviews.
I hungered for more & started discovering magazines & even adult literature at the age of nine. I can still remember our librarian's grunt stare when she discovered me tucked with a Danielle Steel novel.
The following year was exciting. Now in Fourth Grade I am now entitled to my own library card. No more staying after school hours for I could just take home books that I want to read. But I was wrong.
At ten years old I became a member of the 'geek society', the Book Lovers' Club which was not a popular organization at all. Most of my classmates would join the Student Council, the Boy or Girl Scouts, Peer Facilitators or the Glee Club. Only a few would join the Book Lovers' Club. But this is where I would find refuge & I never knew that joining this club would make me revered & popular. I would eventually become its President. And being it's head I became among the school's more important personalities.
I stopped writing during those time. I never even believed that I had that skill. Although during mandated essay homeworks I would get high scores & recognized by my teachers.
Before our elementary graduation we were asked to chronicle our grade school days through a poem. I wrote a life cycle sort of poem & titled it "Clouds As Me". I didn't know that it was my introduction to metaphorical writing. My Reading teacher liked it so much she had it published in our year book.
I began to feel confident with my writing. Having been commended & recognized for that one poem made me realize that I have my own special talent which really needs nurturing.
Nurture did I do.
The first challenge I had in writing started during my first few months as a freshman high school student. I had to be a part of our school organ. I knew that this was the only way to know if indeed I had the talent.
With only guts & sheer determination I entered a room filled with senior students aiming to be a part of the distinguished school publication team. Without any mentor or experience to boast of I took the challenge. I just really wanted to see for myself & get assurance that I indeed can write. No other purpose. Just assurance.
A day after the screening all my classmates were jubilant. It was totally unexpected of me to land a post in our school paper as a freshman. Not to mention I aced the screening seeing my name as the second best applicant for the new set of writers in our campus paper. Following my name was a bunch of senior & junior students. The school paper adviser was then curious to know me. That was the time I was assured I could definitely write.
I was discovered. Three years after this unexpected discovery I eventually became our school paper’s Editor-in-Chief & recognized as my batch’s Most Outstanding Student-Journalist for two straight years.
As if to assure me & prepare me for writing challenges in college my mentor, our school paper adviser drove me to write about different topics. Topics that don’t even interest me at all were included in the list. She created different tests to further hone my skill. She would often criticize in front of my peers but would be a very inspiring coach during our one-on-one sessions. I believe I got her captivated with my writing style which is too unlikely for a 13-year-old. She added more elements until my writing has grown more advanced compared to an average 16-year-old student. She was the one who told me I had a future in writing. I was inspired to believe so.
During my high school years I went touring over all the country courtesy of writing contests. It was a privilege to see different cultures, people & places & be able to write more because of these inspirations. I got to know other excellent writers of my age as well & would often compete with them. Sometimes I won. Sometimes they win. But the tips from peers, different mentors really helped me a lot to further mature as a writer in my own little way.
Even up to today I am remembered as the best essayist for my batch & that recognition was acknowledged by senior batches as well. I was the first one to represent my school in a national level writing competition for feature writing. That recognition lives on & every time I feel down or frustrated about this special art of mine I go back to these memories. It would then again move me & push me back to my writing desk.
My writing mellowed when I was in college. But my reading did mature. I was engrossed on political novels, philosophical manifestos, classic & modern literature & pop-culture magazines.
I think college life in UP is different from other universities. You really have to think before you could write. Aside from patience & genuine writing talent courage was also needed. Not to mention accuracy & factuality.
In UP your output was always out in the open for criticism. I needed more courage to be that. I needed more experience to become a seasoned campus journalist & I thought to become one is to observe more. The environment was new to me. Unnaturally out of my writing comfort zone. I had to rest for a while & all my writings were archived in a personal journal. I would often receive praises from my communication professors regarding how seamless my writing was. I was often cajoled by school mates to join the school organ. I knew then that I needed more time to ponder on things because aside from writing I also needed to take time for my education.
This was the time I ventured into something different. I developed myself as a leader. Something that was innate even back in high school but never got enough boosting because of writing priorities. I joined several university organizations & even became head of one. From the experience I would be able to observe more & write cleverly as my mind develops to an admirable state of maturity.
After almost more than five years I still have the same thoughts. Sometimes I act like a child. Sometimes like a wise man. Sometimes just like a carefree high school student or a student-youth leader filled with brevity. Or maybe just a plain observer. But still words want to get out of my mind & I feel the need to turn these thoughts into string of words & create a unifying message.
I am glad that in this age I don’t need a publisher to believe in me. I just need myself, my thoughts and maybe a handy computer or a plain paper & pen & I’m off to realizing my dreams over & over again.
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