Passion's Return: Reviving My Dead Muse

Hey, Flockmates :) It’s been months since I last visited this place. I don’t know, but no matter how hard I try, this blog will always be in my heart. Its my sanctuary, a little corner where I could express how I feel in the comfort of words. Little of my real life friends know I even blog, and that makes it a relief because the posts I’ve written in here are intimate muses from my heart. Sometimes I think how silly it all seems, blogging, because you write a bunch of paragraphs to an invisible audience. It’s like talking to yourself, but at the same time talking to a group of people. I think that’s why I like it here. It’s that thin line.

So, what’s up with me? I’ve been struggling for the past few days with a variety of obstacles. I’m overcommited, family feuds, got a bit of cloud stuck in my head, friendship lows and maybe a bit at loss with myself. If those are the bad stuff, there are positive things too that happened. I’m writing again, involving with paper crafts, experimenting with painting, learning how to cook, and I’ve strengthened my bonds with my sisters. 

I’ve made mistakes, flockmates. I made broken promises, and hurt a few people, and I’ve been lazy and selfish, thinking only of myself. I feel really bad, but I have my reasons too.

I’ve lost my love for the publications team, I’m stuck on a certain task at another organization, and my writing... Even  if I said that I’ve been writing again lately... it’s just not the same.

Lately, I’ve been frustrated with my writing. It doesn’t flow as easily as before, my words are not smooth, characters lacking life, scenes needing more dertails, and a lot of writing mishaps in which I’ve caused. Recently, I’ve looked up articles in ‘rekindling the passion’ and this quote plucked a string in my heart. A melody I never thought I would hear again played.

“You must write every single day of your life… You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads…may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.” ―Ray Bradbury

That’s not the only reason why I’m writing a blog post in TheNothingale after months. There were points that were excruciatingly true.

I’m here to chatter about my love for writing. Forget the fame, the money, the brutal comments, the perfectionism... I’m going to dig deep and return to my core. I’m going back to why I love writing in the first place.

Writing had always been a part of my life. Actually, it’s not just a part. It’s my life.

I recalled writing with only pencil and paper, in illegible handwriting, silly stories of whales and bees and stick people. I was very young, maybe 5 or 6. I had an extremely huge imagination...

 And maybe that was the core reason which lead me to pick up the pen.

Imagination.

It was the start of a storm that would haunt my life for an entire decade.

From there, I grew to love writing for other reasons too. It was an outlet for my thoughts and emotions: Expression.

I was probably like love-sick Romeo even at a young age because I could not count all the poems I’ve written for my childhood crush. Whenever my heart gets crushed by unrequitted love, my muse was always there for me. 

Another reason was the joy of showing my work to the world.

I was introduced to commercial writing at Third grade, at the age of 8 or 9. At first, it was the pure bliss of seeing others liking your work. I remembered carrying more notebooks in my bag that my other peers. Why? Those notebooks contained stories. They were my ‘pretend’ books in which I show to others.

I even had a little system back then. I would write stories, then show them to my classmates. They would read and I remember studying their reactions intently. I got positive reactions, to the point where some people would bug me for more material to read. “El, do you have new stories?” They’d ask. Oh, I was so ecstatic.

As I grew older, my writing evolved too. From silly comics and little stories, I eventually started to write in paragraphs. As I aged, they grew longer and longer.

The world also grew bigger for me. Not only that, life also had its hands gripping at my throat and a bunch of other teenage stuff.

Then came in the presence of other writers, Critiques, and the reality of publication, editors, and how competitive the world is.

As I write this post, I realize that my core love for writing had been filled with other clutter. That’s why the fire, the love, was fading.

What about those times when I  would question my talent?

Back in the day, my writing was pure. No other hidden intention, I simply wrote because I loved it. It was literary innocence. As the years went on, I discovered more of the writing world, how others were better than me, and the fact that if you have the talent for it, you’ll be credited more, and you’ll grow famous and rich...etc.

I started questioning myself whether I had what it takes to be a published author, and my writing had been encircling around it ever since.

Maybe that’s the stone blocking the river. Maybe I forgot passion in my journey to excellence.

 

I realize, when was the last time I wrote out of the love of it?

Lol, maybe now! I’m loving every single moment of my blog! Riding my thoughts as it rises and falls.

Gosh, I can feel it coming back to me again.

I want to cry, like, right now because trying to mend these broken writing bones meant rediscovering the real me.

Alright, that’s it for today... I guess my mission has been accomplished! I’m feeling way better now, and... I feel healed, rejuvenated, brought back from the dead.

Final words?

Things are different now. My childhood had a different world compared to my present. Everyone I used to know grew, and changed. The writing world is bigger than I thought, full of sheep and sharks, and I feel like swimming in the middle of it all. But what I want to take from this post, forever, is the idea of passion.

I may not me the best writer in the world, but I love what I do, so why bother? I can’t imagine myself without writing, and I think it was destiny that brought me here.

It was probably not a coincidence on why I was accepted in the publications team when I was 11. There must be a reason on why I was selected as the Editor-in-Chief of our school.

Hey the world around me is now a pretty hue of yellow, brought by all these realizations. I feel enlightened. (Or maybe the yellow is simply the sun seeping through my window? xD)

Even if I despise calling my long-time hobby a talent, much more when people call me talented, I think I’d like to call myself unique. I think it suits me better that way. Maybe if  I follow this path of literary madness, it might lead me somewhere. I don’t really know where, but I’m sure it’ll be awesome. Because if you follow your heart, the journey may be perilous and others may call it foolish, but you know... that in the end, you’ll be right where you belong, and it could truly make you happy.

Keep on following your passion, dream, wish, goal in life.  :) Keep on living, loving and learning~

And don’t stop! ;)

Awesome blog post inspired by: http://writersrelief.com/blog/2015/02/falling-love-writing-rekindle-flame/

 Thank you so, so, so much!  I couldn't have done it without you guys.

Latching On Pushes People Away

I’ve always wanted to have a gal friend.                They’re like the ones in the movies or in the books I read where every female protagonist always got that female bestie they can rely on. They would go on girl-nights and gush over cute guys, and go mall-shopping together, then perhaps help choose each other’s clothes. Whenever one gets heartbroken, they would be there to watch cheesy romcom flicks with, and dine on pizza and Ben&jerry’s or perhaps talk and share advice or stuff. There will be slumber parties, silly dances, LOL moments, and a whole other stuff.

Once upon a time I was just being friendly to this girl because she was new. I talked to her, well, most like she was talking to me about her life. It was fine, because it was a natural getting-to-know process! She said I was her first friend in the neighborhood: Great, because you’re going to be my first female friend in this village too. Soon enough, she would knock on my door every single day to hangout. Even if there was nothing much to do, we would hangout because she hated being indoors and she wanted to talk more about her life.

I was pretty chill with everything; was game for everything, but soon I noticed how she saw me as a loser. When she said she needed advice, she just wouldn’t listen to a thing I say! Like, she would interrupt me midsentence and say “Yeah, yeah I know.” Then on she goes again ranting about her nonsense problems that aren’t supposed to be problems in the first place.

It just wasn’t a give-and-take thing and it grew worse when she claimed that I was her ‘bestfriend’, and she got mad at me once because I refused to tell her a personal secret, and because I told her how we still weren’t ‘close enough’. Bitch I have every right to my personal information!

Call me clutz but she just wasn’t a true friend. I’m sorry I’m not like the chatty, catty and cute-sy girls you used to hang out with at school! Not every girl is the same, and most certainly, I’m a different kind of girl from you. I am totally game to hangout with someone different than me, but there should be respect. I remembered catching her rolling her eyes at me for something I did which was totally ‘me’. She didn’t see me for who I am, rather, she only saw me as ‘my neighborhood friend.’

Girl, I’m sorry but I’m not the friend you’re looking for. We can still hangout and help each other whenever there are events in the neighborhood though, so no problem.

So, what’s with the title? As what I mentioned, she would go knocking at my door every day and would ask with her huge plastic smile. “Want to hangout?” Whenever I would have the tendency to hesitate or when I would say no she would make a grunting noise, roll her eyes and ask me why, and blabber about blablabla. It was as if she was making a huge fuss out of her refused invitation. I told you she was very, very ‘mature’.  Does she even know that there are different kinds of people in this planet? And much more that there are such species called ‘Introverts’?  (*sarcasm intended)

There is a huge difference in my life already since I joined the Youth Organization of my place. I went out often, met people and got exposed. I was already a very active member of the Organization, and the teens I’ve met are extraordinary, and awesome people. I remembered the latenight foodtrips, the laughs, the teamwork, the conversations, the vents, the rants, the dances, the singing, and the lazy afternoons with the guitar. This is a summer I will remember. These people have taught me to smile again, and because of them I have broken out of my shell brought by the pains of heartbreak. Now, I smile wider, laugh louder and am back to being absolutely myself once again, and it’s all because of these people.

Last words? Always stay true to yourself in a world full of fake people. There will be times when people will dislike you for who you are but someday you will meet people who’ll make you feel like you belong. It’s better to be hated for who you are than to be loved for who you’re not. That broken friendship you just had? Learn to let go, and hope the best in life for them. Take a deep breath, forgive, and realize that there are 7 billion people in this world. True friends do exist, I ensure you. We still have to meet them. Never ever give up, because a true friend is worth the search.

Keep on living, loving and learning!! xoxo

I'm No Longer Your Muse

It's a beautiful thing when two people do a duet. The blending of their sweet voices, the music which moves our feet, and the way our thoughts would fly with the musical notes in the air. It always is an amazing thing to be someone's muse. To know you're in a duet with someone who shares the same melodies of your heart.

I was his muse. He was mine, too. I was happy with the fact that I could finally dance with someone. He was the reason why I sing my thoughts through words. It made the Nothingale fly higher than ever with her emotional wings. The feeling was wonderful.

When he left, I became silent. I desired for my co-singer to sing with me again. It felt like he was the music I needed. The only music I'll ever dance to forever.

They say that nothing is forever. At some point, the sound has to meet silence. It's a natural balance of how things work!

Just today, I realized that I don't need someone to make a beautiful performance. Birds sing by themselves most of the time. They sing of nature, of beauty, and I just wonder what makes them so happy to sound so beautiful every single day. If birds can do it, why can't we? We can be happy by ourselves, by loving ourselves.

Soon, we'll eventually have the will to dance again, but by that time, not by someone's music but by our own. By that time, it won't take long for a man to ask if he may join you in your dance.

For now, I'm listening to the sorrowful tune of heartbreak. Soon I'll learn to be like a bird, that I might live up to my name of being 'TheNothingale.' I'll learn how to make music from my own soul.

What is this music I speak off? Happiness. For me, music is happiness, and from happiness out comes freedom.

Last words? Learn to be happy with our own selves, because what a waste of our beauty if we don't share it to the world! Sunflowers always turn to the source of sunlight, and the same goes for connections too.

To the guy who left? I'm no longer your muse, dude. I'm broken, but soon I'll learn how to sing again, by my own. Thank you for setting me free. If not for you, I would not have discovered the melody I have in me. Now, all I need to do is to shift this sad solo to something happy :)

Keep on loving, living and learning, Flockmates!!!

Honesty Sets Us Free

I had a friend. I exaggerate on the ‘had’. We met when I joined this organization, and I don’t know if it’s just me but we kind off had a happy moment together because we happened to connect in so many things in so little time. It was surprising. It was a storm. I was totally taken by surprise, by him.

We hanged out for two days, but suddenly he stopped from the third.

It was almost heart-breaking. Why? He set my hopes up high that finally I would have a friend that I could totally relate with. I was excited, imagining the days ahead. Maybe we would talk all about our fave topics, or maybe laugh at some awesome joke we made.

The sudden disappearance brought me to limbo. Everytime I make conversation, he would just give me short responses. I don’t know why. People sometimes teased us that we’re a couple, but I’m sure he’s mature enough not to care! The thing here is, the thought of wanting to know why bothered me more than ever.

I wanted to say it over Facebook, but it doesn’t seem to be a likely place for it. I can’t say it in real life because we’re barely friends anymore.

At one point I decided ‘what if I won’t say a thing?!’ but then the thought still annoys me and I had a strong urge to just say what I needed to say.

And guess what? Eventually, I did. It took me a couple rewrites to do it. One time I thought I made the perfect message, but doubt took me in, and so I  deleted everything. Actually, I literally exited the entire browser as soon as I realized I had clicked ‘send’.

But then it became more than that. Minutes after sending it, I felt a huge wave of euphoria. I was tremendously happy, because I felt like I was free! But not yet, though. I still don’t know his answer. What would his response be? Well, that doesn’t matter! I feel like I don’t care anymore! Because for once,  I told the truth and I’ve never felt so in tune with myself in such a long time.

I was so happy, that I thought maybe I should be more honest often.  Honestly literally freed me from fear. The truth will truly set us free. So, what is really holding us back from saying what we really want? The chains of doubt, fear, and negativity. They are monsters we need to fight.

Anyway, flockmates. I finally did it!!! I am so, so so so happy.

I may or may not lose a friend tonight, but atleast I can finally sleep much better, and live easier because I know I have the ability to free the truth. I can never know what’s on the other side, that’s why I asked! I can’t read his frickin’ mind, for god’s sake! But that doesn’t matter, the honesty I gave acted like a layer of armor over me. Even if he leaves this very second, at least I had closure, and there’s no other thing every relationship need than closure, and honesty.

I tell you, nothing compares to the feeling freedom gives.  Finally, The Nothingale finally figured out how to be utterly free. Not only can I sing about my feelings, but I am slowly in a journey to unravel how to sing every piece of morsel in my mind to the world. This freedom may help me soar higher than I ever thought I could be.

Last words, flockmates? Just say how you feel, and then celebrate it afterwards because in this world where honesty is a lonely trait, you did it. You are an awesome, honest person.

And to be honest? I love you, Internet peeps! I wish you with all my might the best in your lives!!

Getting my Reading Spree Back

I’m not much of an avid reader, but I realized something about myself this very day. I realized that I do not love to read because of the mere act of doing it, but I love the new insights I receive. Books carry you on a trip to anywhere! I was born with a vibrant imagination, and I think this is why I’m fascinated with words, and is interested in the art of crafting literary works.

I have a collection of encyclopedias in my room. Growing up, I was surrounded with books; hence I became aware of their importance and wonder. That collection gave me a good start for my preschool days up to elementary. Unfortunately, the spree ended when I was in 4^th grade. Those were the times when I was driven by the writing spirit. I discovered the thrill of letting other people read the silly stories I wrote. Their reactions were interesting to watch, and I felt the fuzzy feelings one could get if someone actually liked something you created.

But anyway, I am trying to get my reading spree back. Those encyclopedia collections I have? I haven’t finished reading them yet. My goal is to fully explore it by the end of summer. 

What’s in it for the Nothingale? A lot, actually. For me, reading can be a powerhouse for inspiration. At the end of every passage, my mind savors the new knowledge like a piece of candy. From there, new wonders burst like geysers.

A while ago, I realized something else in my personal self.

Reading actually relaxes me.

So, yay! Plenty of stuff for this bird to sing about! (Or let’s say, rant about)  

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Do you also like to read, flock mates? What do you think of encyclopedias?

Never stop the thirst for learning ~