This was really supposed to be a blog about books and the literary pieces I create. But apparently, what I really just managed to create is shit. Far from literary. And to be honest, I have trouble finishing reading books nowadays. It just was not like before. It is hard when I cannot write about anything. I cannot write because I always think that no one will read them anyway. But why write for anyone? I cannot write because, now, I am aware of the rules. I studied poetry for more than a year back in 2012-2013. And one thing’s for sure, I suck at writing. I get all the concepts but none of my teacher thinks I learned any of it. I am not just good at executing the lessons, maybe.
When I was younger, I would write because I feel like doing so. I used to write poems to my first love. But that did not work out too. He never read it. It does not really matter anymore. Like what I write will never matter to anyone.
After 2 years, now, I cannot write a fucking thing. They’re really all just confessions. Of how I fail and feel things. Sulking in the depths of suppressed emotions I am not willing to give up.
I do no write anything anymore. But then, I am thinking, who is to judge how someone is supposed to express her feelings? Who is to know if an experience is interesting enough to be put into writing? When I try to find answers, it ends with me realizing and admitting it: I am just bitter.
I do not read anything anymore. I cannot seem to focus. I don’t know where my old self went. I feel like I am supposed to be writing whenever I started reading. And so you see this circle goes on and on. I cannot get out. And so, as such maybe, I could start with opening it up.
And accept the fact, I should write regardless if someone’s going to read or not. Accept that no matter what happens, at the end of the day, what’s important is what I think of myself more than anything else.
Well, to be honest I don’t know how to end this venting out. So, yeah, so there.
Well-written stories matched with excellent art!
Ganito dapat ang inuunang ipabasa sa mga bata nang di lumalaking di kilala ang sariling bayani, ang sariling kultura.
Super cute! 😁
At hayun, naalala ko ang araw na uso at sobrang halaga ng lalabas na resulta sa FLAMES. Kapag Married o Sweehearts ang lumabas, kilig na kilig ka at maniniwala na ito ay isang sign from God. Pero pag Friends or Angry (Acceptance sa ibang variation. Oo, may iba’t ibang variation. HAHAHA) ang lalabas biglang may kakabig inside you at sasabihing hindi naman totoo ang FLAMES. Trip lang. Lelz.
Naalala ko rin noong hayskul, naging presidente ako ng Drama Club (English), na walang gustong sumali kasi Ingles ang script at ang siyempre ang mga ipapalabas. Mahirap daw mag-emote. Oh well. Those were the days.
Biktima ako ng pabago-bago mong damdamin.
Kung di mo ako kikilalanin,
Huwag mo akong nakawan ng tingin.
Huwag ka nang sumulyap.
Dahil kung ganyan lang, walang magaganap.
Ipinagpapalit mo ako sa kaba.
Ipinagpapalit mo ako sa alinlangan.
Ipinagpapalit mo ako sa takot.
Ipinagpapalit mo ako sa hiya.
Padadaplisan mo ako ng pag-asang
Maaaring may patunguhan
Itong paghahabulan ng ating mga bakasakali.
Samantalang ako’y nakagapos
Sa pag-asang matatapos
Ang lahat ng ito sa pagbihag.
Bihagin mo ako,
Bantayan sa lahat ng oras.
Ayaw kong tumakas,
Kasama’ng pusong muling maghihingalo.
Rio Alma. Siya ang naiisip ko kapag naririnig ko ang salitang makata, tula, sukat at tugma, LIRA. National Artist. Workshop. Naaalala ko noong fellow ako nagpagupit ako ng buhok dahil sa sobrang lungkot ko noong nakatay ang ‘tula’ ko noong unang beses kaming nag-malayang taludturan. Ngayon, pinagtatawanan ko na lang din yung gawa kong yun. Ang dami kong natutuhan sa kanya, sa LIRA. Di lamang ang mga konsepto at teknik sa pagtula, kundi paggalang at pagmamahal sa sariling kakayahan at sining. Dapat bukas sa kritisismo ng iba. Hindi dapat manipis ang balat.
Kaya heto sumusubok pa rin. Paunti-unti.
Ipagpapatuloy na muli ang pagbabasa. Ito lamang ang binili kong libro noong Free Comic Day sa Fully Booked. Ang tagal ko nang naghanap ng kopya. Mahilig ako magbasa ng komiks lalo na yung gawang Pinoy. Una, mas madaling intindihin, at ikalawa, mas sinasalamin ng mga ito ang kultura na aking kinalakhan.
Di lang sa Comics Section ng broadsheets at tabloids nabubuhay ang mga Pinoy komikeros! Sana tangkilikin natin sila para mas marami pang librong tulad nito.
May ilang taon na rin ng huli akong nakapunta ng Komikon. Sana sa darating na Nobyembre ay makadaang muli! Kita kits!
Kaligayahan ko’y simple
T’wing bagsak ng ula’y grabe.
Isang basong tsokolate’t
Sa radyo’y tugtuging swabe.
Isang tanaga mula sa koleksyon ko ng mga tula. Naging fellow ako ng LIRA Poetry Clinic noong 2012 at tinawag ang kaming Gamlay.
How could have someone feel so much and lose it like it didn’t existed at all?
Like it could be replaced?
How could have someone hold your hand like it is the most precious he ever held?
Like it was gold that makes him shine?
Like it was treasure,
Like he never wanted to lose it,
Like his life is its cost.
But then the gold tarnishes over time,
and he finds out
it was not pure, not rare,
What a shame. What waste.
How good is gold if it does not shine?
What good would it be if it does not make you feel good?
Gold is supposed to be good.
And how hard was it to replace an accessory?