Why I Write

I don’t write for other people and I certainly don’t write to get attention. I don’t write for deadlines. I don’t write for money. I don’t write to gain more friends or wage war to an enemy. I don’t write to impress anyone with my crappy ideas. I write, thinking that no one will read and nobody cares.

I write because I can express myself better than talking. I write to feel comfortable. When I write I am assured everything is fine, or at least it’s gonna be. I write to validate myself, to keep me in check, to reflect on decisions, to ponder on ideas.

Memories fade and emotions change. What you think today is different from what you believed yesterday. I write because I will forget. I write to help me remember.

I write because it is my one real chance to be true. I have lied a lot, even to myself , and most of the time I believe it. In writing I’ll know that there is still a line, no matter how vague, between the truth and my lies.

My writings are the window to my soul. It breathes what I feel, it embodies what I am.

My writings are the time capsule of my life. I write only for myself.

Dreams

I used to fantasize alot in my teenage years. The craziest idea I had was thinking I was a very talented person who works behind the scenes in FOREIGN movies and TV production. I’m hazy about what I actually do but it’s a job that allows me to talk freely with the actors. My ultimate crush that time was Alexis Bledel from her role in Gilmore Girls so obviously the crazy dream revolves around me and her (Thank God I didn’t end up gay watching girly shows haha). The only popular movie I know she made was a co-lead role in The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants.

Anyway, my point is I used to dream big. I used to imagine before that I was a detective, or a creative writer, or a forensics expert or just about anything, really. I was a teenager and I dreamed like a kid. I used to dream big, and then life happened. I grew up.

I have a theory that our ability to dream big is inversely related to the amount of responsibility we take. The larger our responsibility as a child, the lesser the chances of developing our imagination. It is because being responsible at a younger age exposes us to the world of adults, where dreams are very limited. Of course, it’s not always true that people with no responsibility have the wildest imaginations, an example being a rich golden-spooned kid bummer. If you have all the psps and xboxes, why imagine a completely unrealistic world when you can just play it, right?

It is not surprising that children’s books like Paolo Coelho’s The Alchemist or St. Exupery’s The Little Prince are popular to adults. It reminds us of a time when we were once dreamers and the rulers of our own world. Adult life is hard and can be really complex, but it doesn’t mean they can’t dream. As a tribute to my old self I listed down dreams I want to achieve. These are not the impossible and hallucinatory kinds, but the ones that are more attuned with reality and can be perfectly attainable during one lifetime. I feel I owe it to myself to accept these as challenges and not write it off as impossibly difficult just because others say it can’t be done.

1. Establish my own business that will make Manny Pangilinan drool with envy. This is in part to fulfill my quest to financial freedom and to satisfy a need to use my skills in accounting.

2. Write a fictional book. Somehow I still can’t shake this idea in my head that given a different circumstance, I would have studied to be a writer.Anyway I know I just have to keep on writing and this will be a reality.

3. Live a happy, simple yet meaningful life. I have been blessed that I now know who I want to spend my life with, We just have to work together on how we define a simple life.

4. Travel the World, or at least a significant part of it.

I don’t believe that dreams should stop the moment we grow up, It should stop the moment we draw our last breath. Seize every moment. Dream and find a way to make it happen, because no one else will ever do that for you.

Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.- Albert Einstein

Our Father

Why do we call our community priests “Father”?

The priest is a representation of our spiritual Father, the one they speak of in the bible. God. Allah. Yahweh. Jehovah. You give high praise to your priest each time you call him Father. It is an assertion of his status in the community of believers, a term of intimacy and endearment.

Why don’t we call our own fathers “Father”?

The word “Papa”were primarily imitative of the first sound babies make – the p, b and ah sound. In some parts of middle east and south asia, fathers are called “baba”. It eventually evolved in most parts to “da-da”. “Pops” is a loose term commonly used by later generations. We call our fathers pa or dad or pops because it’s phonetically simpler when we were kids.

Ok, in case  I’m missing something, we call our priest Father to give high praise and call our own in all sorts of names because it is much simple to pronounce? We ought to give more attention to how we call our dads fathers. They’re a source of motivation, support, encouragement and protection.

My dad father never forces me to do things I don’t want to do. He trusts my judgement and know I’m responsible enough for my own actions. He never scolds, he never shouts, much more hurt me in any way. He doesn’t talk too much, but he’s sensitive in ways that he always knows what I want. Most of all, he respects me. He doesn’t impose his will just because that’s what he thinks is best for me, he takes a step back and objectively validates my actions, and it helped me to instinctively trust others as well.

When my mother passed away I knew there was a void left in her absence. Through it all, my father never looked weakened or defeated. Yes, there would times when he’d come home drunk, moments when he can barely contain the longing feeling, but he will recuperate. The next morning he’d come back stronger, with greater resolve to take on what life gives him.

Losing someone makes me value the people around me more, and indeed I should. My dad father has always been there for me so I never truly valued how important he is in who I am today. So for all the missed chances, forgotten texts and calls, nights when you had to worry waiting for me while I’m partying or sleeping off somewhere, I’d like to make up for it.

Happy Father’s Day, and this dinner’s on me.

The father who does not teach his son his duties is equally guilty as the son who neglects them. – Confucius