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

Rock Brother

We have a general items store. One can find hygienic products, fun snacks, soda, juice and more stuff in our store. It just so happened that the person mom hired to run the store is a surly teenager who has a habit of lying and ingratefulness. In the end, she got fired, and so I now work for our own family store. I’m actually glad to do so, it means the store shall be within my hands and control.

I get to work partime in the safety and comfort of home, ain’t that great? Another awesome thing is, mom transferred the desktop downstairs, so I can still keep in touch with my home within the monitor screen.

Aside from the awesome working conditions, I finally had the chance to speak to our neighbors and make friends, the first in the many years since we transferred in this neighborhood! Since our store was luckily situated adjacent to a basketball court, I often meet teenagers around my age, so yay! Of course, there are the flirty dudes, the teasers, the show-offs who lift their jerseys to hopefully capture me with their muscles. Calm down, bro, I’m just here for the work, not for you.

From the few days I’ve worked in this place, I’ve met this one person in particular who stood out from the other people I’ve met.

We connected by our same tastes in music. He was playing basketball at the other side of the street while I was blasting music from my phone to ease the boredom arising in me. He kept on singing while playing, and boy, his voice was pretty good! Twilight of that same day, he and his friends decided to hang around our store. (There is some kind of bench outside our store.) Of course, while they were talking, I was blasting my music and at the same time partly listening to their conversations.

Then it all became a blur. The next thing I knew was, I allowed him to choose the music to be played. Scanning through my vast music list was like exposing my whole self to him. My music can totally define my life, my personality, the things I’ve been through and well, I exposed to him my source of life: Music. The thing with this guy is, he totally loves rock. He can play the guitar and the drums, and is an excellent dancer as well! He’s got a unique addiction to mint candy too. The warm brown color of his eyes, his soothing presence and we share that bond brought by the bridges of music.

My friendship with him is more than just a mini-crush. He brought me back to rock. Carried me to who I really am. I’ve been daunting on listening to other genres because my closest friends  listen to them. In the process of being with those close friends, my music had been influenced into listening to their genre. Mintaholic dude, as what I decided to call him, made me realize to never lose touch with myself in the process of befriending others.

Unfortunately, all things must come to an end. Turns out he has a girlfriend, but it drives me mad everytime I catch him sneaking glances at me. His girl and he are long-distanced but they’re really strong over facebook. I have to distract myself with other things to cease these feelings from flowing through.

Sometimes, we meet people because they have to teach us a valuable lesson we need to learn, or to remind us of something we need to remember always. It has been a blessing meeting Mintaholic. I’m so glad to have been saved by my Rock Brother.