I looked at my grandfather, dressed in his white polo and black slacks, a look I knew he carefully picked for this special event in the life of his apo, and I couldn’t help but wish my dad were there, in my grandfather’s place.
Excuse me for the vanity but I’m just proud that Sir Martin, a Palanca awardee, thought this line was “(ma)ganda.” I know I’ve been writing crappy pieces lately so I always find it very fulfilling when I am able to write down the words that sound nice and feel nice, expressing the things I’ve been keeping in my head for a while.
On another note, this issue on Writer-Audience always gets me. On one hand, I would love for people to actually read what I write for what use is my writing–printing it on paper–and not have anyone to read it? That’s just sad, right? But that’s the problem.
I kind of don’t want other people to read what I write.
I would always be afraid of what they’ll think of me after reading them. Do they think I’m pathetic for writing about these things that don’t really make sense? Would they think I’m a pretentious writer, that I should just scrap everything and just focus on programming?
But I can’t give up my pen and paper. Like what I wrote in my poetics, this is how I understand things. It’s how I make sense of everything that’s happening to me. If I didn’t write, I probably would’ve gone insane. Writing saved me when I needed to be saved.
Writing requires a sense of vulnerability and, I guess, I’m starting to allow myself to be vulnerable. After all, it is in being vulnerable, after being broken that we become whole, right?
Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.
So Semisonic sings. I might agree. But that’s in another blog post, when things are a lot less busy and when I’m more sure of things. 🙂
I’m just tired of waiting. Not just waiting for a friend to arrive in the coffee house where we agreed to meet (she never did) nor waiting for a boring class to end just so you could go to your appointment (which happens to have been cancelled without you knowing about it beforehand). Just waiting, in general.
I think I’ve subjected myself to this game for a long time and it’s just tiring to never see the end of it, to still not hear that long, thundering buzzer sound off, followed by someone, “Game over!”
It would be nice to not have my hopes up and expect from people to keep their word and then get disappointed in the end. I hate it; not keeping one’s word is probably number one on my list of pet peeves. But I’m digressing.
The economy of give and take is supposed to be exercised and executed fairly, with both parties doing their part. We talk about that, although I’m not quite sure whether we take it seriously. We’re supposed to give as much as we take. But I don’t think that’s what’s happening. I know it’s just a tiny concern, a request, but I just hope you learn to keep your word. When you say you will show up, please do. If you won’t (or at least if you’re iffy about it), tell me in advance so I won’t go around waiting for you, and rejecting people from taking that lone empty table.
Anger is such a weird feeling. I now realize how important it is to not bottle up one’s feelings. By the time it snowballs, you’re in danger of exploding, disintegrating.
But please, let me be angry sometimes.