thoughts-past-sunset-blog

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(might as well have a background music while you’re going through my blog)

[thoughts-past-sunset-blog]

WHAT I’VE LEARNED. (READ FIRST)

My first take on the entire process of doing this project is that my life is brimmed with uncertainties.

I was asked what I thought of my body; I said I’m still learning to love it.

I was asked about my adolescent years; I said I’m not sure where it’s going.

I was asked what my dreams are, and I left it to fate.

I was asked about my passion, and I said I’m looking for it.

I would have filled all of the entries with solid I don’t knows, but it would be like blatantly branding my project with a big question mark, and I don’t want to get a zero on this task.

I’m a kid with big plans and even bigger dreams. I don’t quit easily. I’m determined to reach my goals, and I don’t let distractions ruin them for me. But somehow, in spite of the conviction in my voice when I tell myself that I’m going to make it, in spite of how sure I am of my plans, in spite of having marked my final destination on the map, it’s myself whom I doubt. It’s in the way I second-guess everything, in the way I hesitate to take one step ahead, and in the way I don’t allow myself to commit mistakes at an age where I should make as many as I can. And this is the most important realization I have had while losing sleep over this project: I have to trust myself more. If I want the plans I’ve laid out before me to come true, I should at least believe that I can take on the journey alone, and maybe even allow a few stopovers along the ride.

On the other hand, I really enjoyed staying up all night to finish this project (genuinely, with no underlying sarcasm). Like I said before, I enjoy writing. I pour my heart out on every piece I compose. I find solace in blank pages and blinking cursors, in serif fonts, in the sounds of my keyboard when I type, in the song that plays in the background (right now it’s Riptide by Vance Joy). It has really been an eye-opening experience, and has probably done more for me than what I expected of a 0.3-unit subject.

Thank you, PerDev 3.

Love,

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if, by some miraculous event, I happen to stop having fears, would I finally be free?

Journal Entry #2:

For most of my life, when I hear the word “fear,” a threatening picture comes into mind. I think of myself sitting in the dark, kicking and screaming and crying for help. I think of standing on top of a hundred-foot building; half a step more and I would be falling into oblivion. I think of being near frogs and grasshoppers and jellyfish among other things. I think of earthquakes and tsunamis. Of ghosts. Of being left out.

But then I grew up, and now, when I hear the word “fear,” I don’t picture myself screaming anymore. I’m neither in the dark nor crying for help. Instead, I’m quiet and numb. My ears are ringing. My breathing patterns, erratic. The world stops and stills for a second, and it’s not the kind of quietude that puts my mind at ease. It’s the kind that lasts for only a fraction of a second. It’s the calm before the storm, the sweet flavor before the bitter aftertaste, the hushed silence before the booming cacophony of everything. And yet, it’s not the worst part. The worst part is the fact that I’m alone. That I have no one with me. No one to be afraid with, no warmth to comfort me, no shoulder to cry on. It’s what I fear the most – being right in front of everyone but being isolated. Like being present, but being unknown.

Which is why I might have the biggest problem in the world: I live alone. At least on weekdays, I do. My home is in the northernmost part of Quezon City, and to my misfortune, I happen to study in the south. So I rented a dormitory, which was supposed to make things easier for me, but evidently, doesn’t. I wake up alone and go to bed alone. I study alone, walk to school alone, and at times, eat meals alone. The word “alone” could pass as the title of the book of my life, and it haunts me at every page. It haunts me whenever class ends and my friends go home one by one, and I walk to my dorm to spend the rest of the day in the emptiest, loneliest. It haunts me when I go to sleep and no one’s there to wake me up when I’m having nightmares. It haunts me every step of the way, because I know that when all of this is over, when I graduate and move back home, I could still end up a lone figure in the middle of a crowd, trying to find my place but only meant to be walked past by.

Now I realize, the worst kinds of fears aren’t the ones that make you scream. It’s the ones you don’t remember everyday – the ones that exist in your subconscious, the ones that lock you up in shackles for a very, very long time until one day, it surfaces, and you realize how long you’ve been carrying it on your shoulders.

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WHAT I LIKE AND WHAT I DON’T

Journal Entry #3:

If I were to list down all the things that I like, It might take a few books and a whole year to write.

A short, mediocre poem can only take us so far

Still, I should give it a chance - but where do I start?

I like wearing white polish on my nails until they crack;

I like chicken wings, warm doughnuts, and fries.

I like chunky sneakers and I wear a lot of black;

to see me in pink clothes would be a total surprise.

I like when the sun sets below the horizon;

I like how the skies turn into a pleasant pink

I like how the city starts to light up the night

The colors I once admired, gone in a blink

I like waking up at 5 in the morning

When the air is still dewy and the world is asleep

I like watching sceneries that take my breath away -

I store them in my heart, forever to keep

 I like many things, but sadly, they are finite

It’s time for me to tell those that I dislike.

 I don’t like neon colors - it’s much too bright for me,

And cheesy romance novels are not my cup of tea;

I’m not a fan of camping, hiking, or biking,

and movies with arguably predictable endings.

I’d rather stay at home than go to crowded malls,

and I can’t stand a day without checking my phone

The list goes on and on and on, but most of all

I hate that I am many, many miles away from home.

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where my passion lies

Journal Entry #4:

I’ll start with this: I’m still in the process of finding where my passion lies. As a kid, I never really sat still; I always wanted something to do. I trained in Taekwondo in second grade. I took piano lessons, considered singing as a hobby, learned how to play the flute, the violin, and the guitar. I joined Math competitions. I joined writing competitions. I used to draw and paint every day for a while. I trained in badminton. I joined the volleyball varsity team and the Glee club. And maybe this is the exact reason why I’m good at many things but not great in any single one of them. Right now, I’m just not sure what my passion is. But if you ask me what kind of activity makes my heart warm and sends butterflies to my stomach, I would put my money on writing.

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MY BODY

Journal Entry #5:

It’s funny how I look in the mirror and see a bag of bones –

Of brown, Filipino color; average height and weight,

Movements stiff and calculated, gaze as hard as stone,

And etched into my skin are all the things I hate.

I’m blotched with imperfections, terribly so

Been told countless times to love and to grow

To admire my own body, to see beauty in my scars,

to draw constellations - it’s easier said than done.

Because the flaws that I carry with me everyday

Remind me of battles I never won.

But I’ll grow. I know I will.

I just have to give it time.

For no matter how ugly the scars, the constellations,

At the end of the day, they’re mine.

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Of Strengths and Weaknesses

Journal Entry #6:

I’m a visionary. I tend to look ahead and only look back when I see that something’s not quite right. I don’t limit to one; I let my imaginations branch out to reach other aspect that haven’t been touched. This part of it is a strength, but sometimes, my visions stretch out too far that I lose its essence. Take for example – in this project, I attempted to write poems for each and every topic, that at one point I forgot that the rhymes I make won’t matter in the end. My grades won’t be based on how pleasing to the ears my poem is, but rather, what I put in it.

I’m critical. I don’t just go for it. Everything is three-dimensional and I stare at every square inch to look for faults. I scan it from top to bottom, from left to right. However, I must have mastered the art of criticizing too well that my most usual victim is myself. I find my flaws and hate them forever. I foresee all possible outcomes and think the negative aspects outweigh the positive ones, making it hard for me to make decisions. This leads to a weakness: indecisiveness caused my pessimism.

I’m strong-willed. I don’t get swayed easily. I’ve built up a wall around myself to prevent me from getting distracted by other forces. I express my opinions when I feel that I have to. I believe that some things have to be black and white – that is, there are circumstances in which we have to stand for either side to make our point. But this leads to my next and last weakness: inflexibility. Because I am strong-willed, I sometimes fail to see the points made by the other party, which makes me kind of subjective and biased.

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Journal Entry #7:

Dream Glow – BTS & Charli XCX

 “I spend my whole life following the night time

Can't see the stop sign,

Wandering quietly right into my dreams.”

Despite my pessimistic tendencies, I believe I was born a dreamer. I’m easily overwhelmed; it’s like there’s a heap of emotions stored within me and they bloom so often that even the littlest of things can make me cry. I get teary-eyed when I catch sight of breathtaking sceneries. I see colors when I close my eyes. I smile in my sleep. And I daydream. A lot.

 She Tastes Like Summer – Spilt Milk Society

“She'll change the world

She'll change the world someday

You'll see written above the sea.”

The biggest dream I could ever have is to change the world. It’s impossible, I know, given how insignificant I am right now, but I believe that someday, if I want it bad enough, I will. I want to change the world in so many ways; I want to solve a thousand problems and save a billion lives. I want to cure cancer. I want flying cars. I want a society where everyone is treated nicely and equally; I want a world where everyone is safe and contented. It’s a dream I’ll never let go of.

 Cardiac Arrest – Bad Suns

“Yeah, my tongue, I'll let it slip, why'd I do those things I did?”

Those who know me will probably say that I’m naturally outspoken and verbally assertive, and it comes with great advantages, but sometimes I can be a little too much. I get descriptions such as “masyadong pranka” all the time, which bothers me because it’s true – I’m tactless and I let my tongue slip more than I should. And then at night when I would go over my day, I tend to overthink what I said and get mad because of how many ways the scenario would have been different if I hadn’t just said what I did. It’s not the fact that I’m tactless that kills me – it’s the aftermath, the anxiety.

 Nightmare – Halsey

“Stared in the mirror and punched it to shatters

Collected the pieces and picked out a dagger

I've pinched my skin in between my two fingers

And wished I could cut some parts off with some scissors”

Insecurity is my greatest enemy. It’s a rope wrapped around my throat – tight enough to hurt me but loose enough to let me live. My life is not a fairytale; I still cry in front of the mirror. I still let my self-doubts get to me. I still shrink when someone stares at me for too long. The key, I believe, to tolerating the ugly voices inside my head, is to learn how to stop comparing myself to others.

 Everythingoes – RM

“Everything, everything, everything goes.”

Ah, my life motto. It’s similar to the Biblical “this too shall pass,” worded differently. Everything goes. It’s two words – simple, generic, but oddly comforting. It’s what I whisper to my reflection, over and over again, until I stop crying. It’s what goes inside my head every step I take every day: every giggle, every drop of tear, every frown, every feeling, every moment of everything – it’s all temporary. It goes.

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core values

Faith. Service. Social Responsibility.

Journal Entry #8:

Faith. Service. Social responsibility.

One day, I might just tattoo these words on my skin. (I kid you not.)

I’m not a perfect Christian. I sin. I still miss Sunday Masses. I don’t memorize every passage in the Bible. I forget to pray every now and then. And for all of these, I’m very sorry, but no one can be a perfect Christian. The truth is, I’m a big second-guesser; I am, up to this day, still unsure of my religion. I attend Youth Service from time to time and lean more towards the beliefs of Born-Again Christians, but my family are religious Roman Catholics so I’m obliged to follow. I doubt myself a lot, and I have no confidence whatsoever, but there’s only one thing in life I’m quite sure of: my Faith in God. It’s been there for as long as I can remember, and it’s there to stay. It’s a good thing, though – because from my Faith in Him stems the values I follow.

Service. I chose this as a core value because it speaks of several things – service to God, service to family, service to country. I serve God in a way I know He would proud of. It doesn’t have to be large-scaled; sometimes, it’s in the little things. It’s in the way I value morality itself, in the way I care for my neighbors, and in the way I perceive life as the most precious gift. On the other hand, I only serve my family minimally as of the moment. It’s one of the things I feel helpless about – my parents keep providing, and I’m consistently on the receiving end. Someday, I hope, I would be the one to serve them and not the other way around; but for the meantime, the best I can do is to study hard and not let their efforts go to waste. Lastly is service to my country. What better way is there to serve my country other than to strive for my countrymen’s well-being? After all, is it not the reason why I’m staying up until 12AM to finish this project? So I can pass, finish my studies, and work to improve the lives of the Filipino people? Has it not been my purpose ever since I was born? Perhaps I’ll fail. Perhaps I won’t finish school. Perhaps I’ll never be fit to work a job. Perhaps it isn’t my ultimate purpose in life. Perhaps I won’t reach my dreams, but I wish and I pray that my dreams for the Philippines live on.

Social Responsibility. Anyone who knows me also knows that I get easily immersed in discussions like this. My ultimate goal in life is to see or experience a nation free of prejudice. As a person who walks the streets of Manila every single day, I would be genuinely happy if I don’t see innocent children loitering the roads, hungry and barefoot in broad daylight, asking for change. My days would be better if I don’t hear inhumane crimes reported on the news regularly. It would be so much better if trashes were thrown not on the streets but into the garbage can. But change doesn’t happen overnight. Each of us has to be aware and ready to take action about the situation around us. It’s time to quit playing blind and start accepting that just because it’s not happening to you, it doesn’t mean it’s not happening elsewhere. We all have a responsibility in the society, and it’s time to practice them.

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ADOLESCENCE: a roller coaster ride.

Journal Entry #9:

Then comes the confusing years.

Then comes everlasting tears.

Adolescence is one heck of a ride

A roller coaster, to be precise

My stomach twists with every turn

My mind goes blank; my throat, it burns

They told me it was part of growing up,

Told me to wait, to never give up

But what still baffles me the most -

They never said when the ride would stop.

 I grew out of my questions and into reality.

So now, I know the world is harsh.

Stakes are higher and nights are colder

The sky is filled with dimmer stars.

But in the darkness, I hear other voices

That shout the same sentiments

The same things I crave, the same things I dread

And so I found my friends.

 Adolescence is much like childhood,

Like candy, short but sweet.

You trip and stumble and fall on your face,

Then get back up on your feet.

Sometimes you fall heavy,

and sometimes you fall light

But the roller coaster ride goes on,

I like to call it life.

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CHILDHOOD IS LIKE CANDY,  FICKLE AND SWEET; THE TASTE OF ITS FLAVOR STILL LINGERS IN MY TEETH. 

Journal Entry #10:

A rushed dream, a worn-down memory,

a set of blurry pictures with edges rigid.

 Picture narrow streets, barefoot kids

and crumpled cans on hard concrete.

 A few kids shout my name from across the street.

They want me to come play.

There’s a bruise on my knee and gashes on my feet,

But I follow anyway.

 I laugh with them ‘til the sun disappears,

Sing and dance to their claps and cheers.

We ran like hell, played endless games,

Though I had barely known their names.

Time passed and we had to move out of town

“To live somewhere better,” my parents had said.

I stopped, took one last look around,

Before I knew it, my childhood ended.

Childhood is like candy, fickle and sweet; the taste of its flavor still lingers in my teeth.

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Dreams and fate.

Journal Entry #11:

At 4 years of age, I wanted to be a nurse

Because it’s what was desired by most girls.

A year later, I wanted to be an astronaut

Reaching the stars was such a lovely thought

And then I took interest in architecture

I liked to draw, so I thought I was sure

Soon I found out that I liked debates

Maybe becoming a lawyer would be great?

Right now, I still have dreams, of course

I’m greedy, so I still want more

But I’m not sure which path to take –

I guess I’ll leave it all to fate.

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Music is my distraction.

Music is my distraction. Both in a good and a bad way; both literally and figuratively. When I arrive to my dormitory and I’m suddenly engulfed in the deafening silence and the sickening emptiness of the room, I turn to music. I play the songs that kindle a scorching fire in my heart. I tap my foot to the beats that pull me out from the abysmal loneliness. I sing along to the voice that soothes the chaos inside my head, and all of a sudden, I’m okay.

But sometimes I play too many songs, and I get distracted. The beats become too loud and the singing becomes shouts. When I listen to loud songs while I sleep, I get nightmares. When I play them while doing homeworks, there’s a chance I won’t finish it.

It’s a dilemma I battle with every day: my love for music and my tendency to get carried away with it.