Writing for me

http://artslink.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/writing-center.jpg

I can't imagine life without books, papers, pens, pencils and my beloved PC.

Fiiineee, honestly, I can imagine it, but I don't like it all the same.

Life without being able to put into words what you are currently feeling is life without being able to feel. A robot's life. A statue's life.

I can't live a life like that. I'd rather die.

Talk about death.

Fine, fine, fine. I'm not supposed to talk about death. I know.

Going back, writing according to this is considered as the representation of language in a textual medium through the use of a set of signs or symbols. A representation of language that is. Also, an extension of human language across time and space. The way were history could be passed through aside from telling through the use of spoken language.

There is a long history about writing. Different informations about it. Different ways on how it was done through time. Different ways of writing depending on a person's culture and country.

Writing is essential to history. It is essential to man for many reasons known to man. And I, too, believe in those given reasons.

But in simpler words, writing, for me, is as important as breathing.

That simple yet, that complex.

Coincidents?

Dumb me.

I accidentally deleted my Weird 101 blog. Thankfully, I saved a copy of it.

It's one of my loved piece since I wrote it while lost in thought.

How coincidental.

I accidentally deleted it while lost in thought too.

Freaky.

Weird 101

Picture this: 1:11 am na. Gising pa 'ko. Nakaharap sa computer habang umiinom ng medyo mainit na tsokolate. Astig 'no? 1:11 am. Tadhana.

Hindi ko alam kung naniniwala ba 'ko sa tadhana. Siguro oo. Ganoon 'ata talaga pag romantic kang tao. Hopeless romantic sabi ng mga kaibigan ko. Paano ba ako naging romantic? Siguro kasi masyadong exaggerated ang mga kwentong naiisip ko. Pati paraan ng pagsusulat ko mabulaklak. Mas madali kong na-e-express ang sarili ko sa wikang Inlgles. Feeling ko mas magaling ako magsulat pag English ang gamit ko. Feeling ko lang naman 'yun.

Kanina pa tulog sila mama at papa. Gusto ko na rin matulog pero hindi ako inaantok. Ang labo. Bakit ko ba nabanggit 'yon? Kasi sabi ng utak ko, pagod na 'ko matulog ka na, pero may sariling pag-iisip ang mga kamay ko. Patuloy itong pumipindot sa mga letra dito sa keyboard. Teka, pagandahin natin 'yung huli kong sinabi. Revised: Ngunit nawalan na ako ng kontrol sa sarili kong mga kamay. Ayaw na nito makinig sa akin. Patuloy pa rin ito sa pagtipa sa bawat letrang natatagpuan nito sa keyboard. Ano ba ang Tagalog ng keyboard?

Naisip ko lang 'no? Bakit ba natutulog ang mga tao? Para makapag-pahinga? Mabawi ang lakas nila? Maliban doon? Sa tingin ko, ang pag-tulog ay ang paraan nating mga tao para panandaliang makatakas sa mga problemang dala ng buhay na kailangan nating harapin 'pag tayo ay gising. Kaya masarap matulog. Kasi natatakasan natin sila. Silang mga sagabal sa ating mga plano. Silang mga kadalasa'y umuubos ng ating panahon.

Gusto ko ng matulog.

Pero hindi pa rin ako inaantok eh.

Bukas din 'yung Facebook account ko. Tinitingnan ko kung may kaibigan akong pwedeng daldalin. Kaso wala. Merong online pero hindi ko naman sila ganoon ka-close. Ayan, nag-se-senti na 'ko. Na-mi-miss ko na ang mg kaibigan ko. Oo nga pala. Dinalaw ako ng BFF kong si Joribel kanina. Biglaang dalaw na nauwi sa biglaang lakwacha. Nakakatuwa. Mag-a-alas-otso na siya dumating. Umalis s'ya ng 8:15, sumama ako para ihatid siya sa may kanto at bumili na rin ng chicharong balat ng manok. Pero inabot kami ng halos isang oras sa daan ka-kadaldal. Nakakatuwa. Kailan ko kaya uli makikita na buo ang ang barkada namin? 'Yung GROSSBOMB. :)
Nabanggit ko 'yung Facebook kasi balak ko ipost ito as a "note" doon. Haha.

Wala naman akong sinasabing matino. Sinusulat/tina-type daw pala. Sarcastic na utak. Epal. T.T

Weird. Magulo. Fine. Magulo na kung magulo. Ganoon ako eh. May magagawa pa ba 'ko? Mas komportable ako maging magulo at malabo. Mas masaya 'pag ganoon.

Weirdo. 'Yun yung tawag sa akin ng mga ka-klase ko nung elementary at high school, pati ng mga kapit-bahay namin. Ayaw na ayaw kong tinatawag na weirdo noon. Am'pangit ng dating sakin. Para akong sinasabihan na abnormal. Siguro iba at hindi normal (para sa iba sa kanila) yung makipag-usap sa sarili habang nag-lalakad o kaya mag-sulat ng kung anu-ano o kaya mag-basa forever o kaya mag-isa at hindi makihalubilo. Sa akin hindi eh. Ganoon yung trip ko. Bata pa lang, ayoko ng lumalabas ng bahay. Sapat na yung maglalaro ako sa isang sulok at sisigaw ng Darna! pag gusto ko. O kaya damputin yung mga libro ng kuya ko na kaya ko ng basahin at babasahin ko ng paulit-ulit. Saka mas trip ko makipag-usap kay Barbie kaysa sa mga ka-edad ko noon. Wala naman kasi silang matinong sinasabi. Boring sila para sa akin.

Weirdo. Ngayon, tanggap ko na na weirdo nga ako. Natutunan kong tanggapin ang pagka-weirdo ko nung magsimula akong ma-inlab sa mga libro. Grade three 'yun. Matagal na kong mahilig mag-basa pero minahal ko ang mga libro nung Gr.3 ako. Nung ma-inlab ako sa kanila, marami akong nakilala. Iba't-ibang tauhan, lugar, at mga bagay. 'Yung mga tauhan na bida sa mga aklat ay madalas na kapareho ko ng ugali. Weirdo sila. Magulo. Malabo. Kaka-iba. Distinct. Mula noon, ang buhay para sa akin ay parang isang kwento na lang na aking isinusulat. (Balang araw isusulat ko ang kwento ng buhay ko.) At mula din noon, natuwa ako na weird ako. I'm proud to be weird. Weirdo nga ako.

Syempre, may tumutuya. Pinag-tatawanan ako. O kaya sinasabihan akong magpakatino o umayos. Eh wala naman akong ginagawang mali o against sa batas. Loko pala sila eh. Pasunurin daw ba ako sa Status Quo nila? ASA!

Mayroon pang nagrereklamo sa mama ko. Bakit daw ako nakayuko lagi. Bakit daw nagbabasa lagi. Bakit daw nagsasalita mag-isa. Bakit daw ganito. Bakit daw ganyan. Bakit, bakit, bakit. Tanong ko lang 'no: Bakit ako lagi nakikita ninyo? Kasalanan ko senyo?

Ang dami ko 'atang sentmiyento sa buhay ano?

Hindi naman masyado. Keribels lang. Kaya pa teh. Pero gusto ko lang lumigaya. Oo, masaya ako pero maligaya? Ewan. Senti ulit. Gabi kasi eh. Tahimik. Malungkot. Malungkot ba 'ko? Ngayon, siguro oo. Bukas hindi na. May magugulo na naman ako eh. May mapag-ti-tripan. Sasaya na naman. Tatawa. Pero hindi magiging maligaya.

Napakalalim na salita. Maligaya. Mararanasan ko kaya iyon? 'Kala mo ang tanda ko na 'no? 18 years old teh. Certified isip-bata, pero Lola at taga-payo ng barkada. Dahil sa libro. Natuto akong makipag-deal sa mga moral problems ko at ng iba dahil sa libro. Lahat dahil sa libro.
Patalon-talon na ang usapang ito. Wala ng kwenta.

Matutulog na ko.

Susubukan ko na lang ipaliwanag at linawin kung ano mang mga pinag-susulat ko dito. Pero madali lang ito intindihin. Kung weirdo ka - gaya ko.

Crap! Walang title.

Weirdo 101. Sabi ni utak. Fine sabi ni kamay. Parang subject lang eh. Hopefully, hindi. Baka maging weirdo yung makakabasa nito. Kawawa naman.

Hala, sige, goodnight!

Me babasahin pa kong libro eh. Hindi pa 'ko matutulog. Sumasakit lang yung mata ko sa kakatitig kay monitor. Tapo magbabasa ako eh 'no? Tanga lang eh. :))

- Kamay ni TikyaFeb. 6, 20102:00 AM
Hontoni? Halos isang oras ko pala itong isunulat. Chineck ko pa yung Tagalog grammar ko. Baka mail. Haha! May pagka-bobo kasi ako sa Filipino. Oo nga pala. Filipino, hindi Tagalog.

- Utak ni TikyaFeb. 6, 20102:07 AM

P.S. 7 ang paborito kong numero. :D

Ticktock

Time is of essence.

She told me to buy tomatoes, so I went. While I was walking I saw this dirty kitten near the veggie stall. I pitied the kitten but I know I couldn’t do anything about it. So I simply ignored the little thing.

After paying for the stuff I bought, I turned around and saw the kitten trying to cross the street as a car, a blue van I think, approached, then just like in the movies everything moved in slow motion, I saw the kitten’s tail, I contemplated if I could pull it back to safety without butchering it (just in case the van already had it under its wheels), I could still remember how scared I was as I saw the van approaching fast and I knew I don’t have the time (or maybe just scared to take advantage of time), I could only hope the kitten would move fast enough such that it could avoid the monster wheels, or that I could stop the time, even just for a few seconds.

The poor thing died. Right in front of my eyes. I saw the monster wheels run over the kitten’s neck. Saw how the kitten’s neck was opened a little. Saw it writhe. Saw some of its guts sprouting. Saw the van continue its journey, as if it hadn’t felt the small bump it crossed. And killed.

And all I could do was to shout (not even a loud one).

Then I walked away.

I walked away but I could still picture the writhing, dying figure of the kitten. I could almost hear its plea for me to help it or to just give it a proper burial. And I could almost feel the icy glare someone might be giving me. I’m such a hypocrite.

Crying but leaving.

Such a hypocrite.

And now I have the nerve to write about it. As if I was the victim. As if I was the poor one who was so unlucky to see such kind of death. As if I didn’t deserve to see it and to shake in misery. As if that kitten’s death happened to be only a topic I have to write about. But see, I have no choice.

I have to write about it. I have to spend this few minutes, just this few minutes, to write about it. I have to do this in honor of that kitten. For that kitten I failed to save, I failed to help. What choice do I have? This place I live in is a bustling place. No place for me to bring that kitten, no place for me to bury that kitten. Am I trying to convince myself that I left that kitten in better hands, in Mother Nature’s hands? Moreover, even if I was able to save that kitten, I still wouldn’t be able to protect it, I still have to leave it prowling the streets alone, and maybe leave it, only to suffer more. Still, I know that all of these are my lame excuses. My excuses to lessen the guilt I am feeling now. To ease the burden.

The burden I deserve to feel.

I wish I could turn back the time. I wish I could stop the time. But I couldn’t and what happened already happened. I could only regret.

Time will come that I will forget the incident about the kitten I failed to save. Still for now, I want to write about it. To help me cope with it. To help me think that in some way I succeeded in saving that kitten, even just in memory. And to help me remember.

To help me remember that there came a time in my life that I failed to make good use of the little time Fate has given me.

How I failed to use the few ticktocks of the clock, time made me see and feel.