January passed by and I promised myself that I’m going to write again when the year starts. It’s an annual folly of mine to give my blog a makeover, write 2-3 posts about things in my life and then completely forget about it. February ends next week, and I’m a month late. But hey, better late than never, amirite?
I’d like to think that I’m a Jack-of-all-trades kind of girl; but the reality is, I’m what people in my country would call a ningas kugon or someone who’s really enthusiastic only at the beginning of an endeavor then loses interest without acquiring mastery. It’s part of my being impulsive, I guess. This has been my struggle for most of my childhood, teenage life, and early adult life.
I’m still struggling.
Finding my “thing” as a kid
I got introduced to writing when I was 12 or 13, basically my first year in high school (we didn’t have K-12 back then, y’all!), when I met my best friend. Before I got started in writing, I used to draw before high school and many people admired my drawings; they would ask me to draw characters from anime shows that were popular back then. I was very proud of it. I drew everyday to “hone” my skeelz just to beat everyone who knew how to draw and I would ignore those people who drew better than me. It was fun for me, and my classmates were happy when they got their drawings.
I met my best friend when I was in the sixth-grade and have occasionally seen her and her drawings around. We were formally introduced by this guy–who tried to court us both, btw–some time around graduation practice. During those days, I was still sort of indifferent to her presence but appreciated the fact that another person became my friend. I had very few friends back then, and the ones I did have didn’t feel like they were really my friends.
We both loved anime and was addicted to the anime RaVe. She would call my house to ask if I’ve seen the latest episode (which I did) and we would commence our conversation from there. It wasn’t until when I was placed beside her in high school that we became close. I discovered that apart from making amazing art, she was also a writer and a really, really good one too. She had a notebook where she wrote down this anime-esque fantasy novel called Fate (I still have it) and I loved it. She had me read every new chapter she wrote and I kept anticipating for new ones to the point that I was rushing her and asking every two days.
Soon, I started to copy what she did.
I tried my best to draw as well as her. There was one time when I felt that my art was getting close to her level. I don’t really remember what happened but I eventually stopped drawing. Just like her anime-esque fantasy novel I also my own and then when I got bored of the first one I created another one which was an anime-esque horror fantasy novel with vampires (I seriously thought a half-vampire vampire hunter was unique until I found out about the anime Hellsing). Their names elude me now but I never finished either one (figures). I could not admit to myself that I was internally competing with her because my childish mind could not comprehend the concept of a friendly competition. To me, the people I compete with it are purely rivals even though they didn’t reciprocate the thought.
It was also around this time that she introduce me to blogging. Only me, her ,and a couple other friends knew about it and would read it. I learned a bit about coding and layouting a blog. Not even the basics but as long as I could turn a pink layout blue then, hey, I was bloody elated. We never made our own blog layouts, though; we haven’t learned that yet. We just downloaded themes and then manipulate them a bit. My first time blogging was fun; it was like a diary but other people can read it. I continued this online diary for a year and it was fun while it lasted.
I did back then whatever it is I’m doing now. Writing. And even though I was never really good at it, it was fine because I was having fun writing it.
A couple of years passed, still in high school, she became the editor-in-chief of our school newspaper, and I, the sports editor. The writing stuck as it was something I was really beginning to enjoy because I love words; then poetry came and my world changed.
I was really good at it during high school, or so my classmates would say. They would pay me to write their poetry assignments for them which I had no problem doing since I was just writing the same shit for them using different high faluting words. They were lazy little shits but the poetry I created for them was something I was proud of since I could churn out 5 poems (which I thought were excellent, btw) a day and it was sort of an ego boost. The teacher even thought I was just taking them from books or the internet; I felt insulted but it’s a rant for another post.
Around that time, the journalistic board (us) was already planning to produce a creative writing folio. Most of my poetry was to be published there, every one was excited, even the artist drawing the art for my poems already started drawing. But nothing ever became of it. I forgot what the reason was, I think the nun principal told us we didn’t have the budget for it which really disappointed me. My best friend fought for that folio because she knew what the school budget was but it failed. We had fun for a couple of months conceptualizing the stuff, though.
We eventually stopped feeling sorry for our failed folio dreams and abandoned pining for it. After that, for some reason, writing and poetry stuck with me until I pursued Literature in university, while my best friend went on to become a great fashion designer/artist.
The year after we graduated in high school, our folio dream was realized. It was too late for me and the other aspiring creatives in our batch, though.
My creativity is selective
As much as I like writing, I just want to do it at my own pace, and at my own time. Forcing me to write something I have no emotional investment to (like what I do for a living now) will just create bad writing. Still, I try my best. I may not be excellent in creating reading materials that flow naturally when read but I’m getting there. Or at least I’d like to think so.
This is part of the reason why I’m blogging again; practice makes perfect. And what better way to practice writing than to write about your own life? Even though no one gives a rat’s ass about what goes on in my life, it’s one of the things that I have the biggest emotional attachment to. I have to give justice to my thoughts, right?
As much as I want swear to the universe that I’ll update this blog regularly. I will do no such thing this time. I won’t force myself to write when I don’t feel like it and when I have nothing to say. Otherwise everything will feel forced which is not the feeling I want to have when I write.
For now, I leave with my very first blog post of the year. Hopefully it won’t be the last. But I’m really busy :I