The Ends of Being and Ideal Grace

It used to be a hot, steamy and promising love affair.

At twelve, I was seduced by the premise, the promise and the art of being masterfully conquered and triumphantly conquering.

At fifteen, it felt like I was on top of this game. I had everything to play for. I looked forward to it, I flaunted it and it became me, like it was where I will always belong. But reality beckoned; it seemed like not all flames can burn a house, or even just a little bonfire. I was so given to this ideality that I may or may not have ignored the greater good.

At sixteen, decisions had to be made. I have to choose between two loves. This affair of passionate but sporadic nature and another one of a challenging yet encompassing make. Ideally, as dictated to us by generations of stereotyping bias, one cannot live while the other survives. I decided to be sensible and practical and I kissed my lover goodbye, along with the rest of the activities I do in my spare time.

Writing, ladies and gentlemen, is my first love.

When I was twelve, I won an intra-school essay writing contest about the relationship of the Filipino language, the vernaculars and the future. I was awarded first place and probably second and third since the judges (as I had been told) deemed my essay the only essay that truly dealt with the question posed. The others were way off the mark. So there was only one winner for that contest and it was me. At that age, I also remembered being asked about what I wanted to take up for college, I cheerfully answered that I would take up Journalism in UP Diliman, even though I had no idea about what I was saying. I just wanted to be in UP Diliman for heaven's sake! My Hekasi teacher grimaced at me and pronounced Journalism as a course without good profit and dismissed my dream as way below my perceived potential.

When I entered high school, I was determined to get into the school paper. I did and for three years, was a nominal member of the club. It was only in my senior year that I fully realized the challenges of writing for a newspaper, as I was in charge of practically everything as Editor-In-Chief. I got sent to different seminars, press conferences and competitions simply because I can pick up my pen, think of something nice to say about the topic and express it in nice words. I won some of those competitions but all in all, those were among the best moments of my high school life. It was also in high school that I learned to fully embrace mathematics as more than a subject but also as the answer to some mysterious questions. Although I never achieved the ultimate high level in mathematics, I have always been in awe of those who did achieve it.

High school turned me into a pragmatist and soon I filed my college applications for ECE, ComTech Management and Accountancy to UP, Ateneo and La Salle respectively. I passed over my childhood dream of being a journalist because I didn't feel confident that being a journalist can tide me and my family over unless I get really really lucky. The other courses, I said, were more practical and don't bank so much on looks department, in which I have no edge over others. As fate would have it, I got in the university of my dreams, UP Diliman and prepared for a life of being an ECE student and the rest, as they say, is history.

I used to have time to update my multiply blog about the beginning of my college life, how my very first serious crush in UP smiled and waved at me, how I was beginning to realize that I may be liking this guy a little bit more than usual (I like him for about 26 months now, dating from that post), how I fought hard and I had no regrets, how I was so frustrated with programming, it was sapping my life energy. I used to write back then. Until facebook became popular and suddenly, I don't even open my multiply account anymore unless I need to scavenge for old HS pics. Oh yeah, gone with the wind too was my time for writing as I waded deeper into coursework and orgwork.

But I truly never considered going into a site just for blogs. I don't even read other people's blogs, with the exception of Mister Ramon Bautista's tumblr account. I like to believe that I began blogging to, like what the Ancient Greeks believed, see the balance of the four humours of life; blood, phlegm, black bile and yellow bile.

 Blood is pumped by the heart so for me it represents the matters of the heart. I'm a closet romantic so I really have grandiose expectations of love. I also happen to have witnessed a few people get together and then break apart to actually be disillusioned or afraid about the premise of falling in love. I write about love a lot because I want to at least try and understand it. At least in the little scribbles in my planner, I know love and how it feels for me, even if I'm NBSB.

I relate phlegm to the word "phlegmatic." Peaceful, calm and slow. Quite suitable for introspection. I have a lot of things running around in my head. I have questions. I have answers. I really talk to myself a lot especially when I'm under stress, harassed or embarrassed. So you know, writing can exorcise the thought demon in me. I actually deal with things better when I put them in my words on paper.

Black bile represents my melancholic nature. In the course I'm taking, it is not unusual to be depressed. With this person I'm liking, it is not unusual to be sulky. In this imperfect world, it is not unusual to rail against the partiality of it all. So you know, perhaps writing can purify me of the negative energy or whatever that's floating around me. It also may feel good to let it out and share a little bit of yourself. Like what Bob Fulghum said in his book, "All I really need to know ( I learned in kindergarten)" In a game of hide and seek, he who hides too much gets left out alone when everyone gets tired of searching for him so sometimes, we need to get found.

Yellow bile is for the nonsensical things. I have lots of stories to tell, some philosophical and heart rending, others, downright mundane. Humor is a central part of me. I would fail in life if I grow up to become a dry killjoy. Besides, I am surrounded by a multitude of interesting people who give me experiences and wisdom day by day that are worth writing about.

This blog is my love letter to the world, to the people around me, to the circumstances of my existence and of course to my vain self, that I may always be reminded of who I am and not get lost in the sea of generic personalities. That I may always be able to call to mind the different aspects of me that I can pull from my hat in times when I need it. This is my online love letter to my Maker, the giver of all talent, passion, love and mercy, who have granted me everything I experience, everything I feel out of the generosity of his heart.

May this blog bless us all. Amen. :)