Tag Archives: journal

Dreaming Fairies

21 May

It’s scary how the world can be so unfair.

I’ve had my fair share of injustice, and I resent the memories of each one to this day. But for the most part, I blamed myself for it, thinking that I’d been too soft and careless and trusting. What do you get from being kind anyway? Sure, people could like you. But what do you do with a thousand people who like you, when at the end of the day you’re all alone? And worse, your kindness may backfire on you in the worst possible way. I say kindness is a kind of power, and as the popular line goes, with great power comes great responsibility.

But still, I’ve accepted those moments when my good will and own efforts ended up crushing me unfairly, but witnessing it happen to someone else — someone genuinely good and bright and hardworking–is totally devastating for me. I’m in no place to judge, but seriously? If there’s one job in this world that saves people from that kind of injustice, I’m very much willing to take it.

Oh shit. I sound like someone on the way to law school.

But seriously, screw it all, I don’t even trust laws of men anyway. I just want the law of inherent goodness, of nature, of getting what you deserve. I want to be a fairy granting people wishes, making their dreams come true as long as they deserve it. I want to see hardworking people succeed greatly. I want dancers to perfectly perform what they’ve practiced. I want students to ace the exams they’ve studied all night for. I want every dog to have a loving family. I want every criminal behind bars, and I mean EVERY SINGLE ONE.

Injustice is a fate worse than death, as I have come to conclude a couple of years ago. And sometimes, with all that’s happening, I want to give up my status as a human being and ask God to just, just make me a fairy. I want to live in some spring wood and give out glass slippers or something. Seriously. I don’t actually have the right to say I’m tired, because I’ve never actually done anything worthwhile, not even household chores (ugh the laundry basket is overflowing again), but I don’t know, I really don’t know… I feel so tired. Physically, mentally. Some people might say, hey maybe you just need Christ in your life, and maybe they’re right. I’m a Christian, alright, and I can say He’s touched my life in ways more than I deserve and I believe in Him, but I don’t know what to do to enact on my faith. Maybe Christianity is indeed about community, togetherness, that being a Christian on your own will make you feel empty and hollow inside.

I don’t know where this is going. First I was raving about injustice then kindness and then Christianity.  Maybe these are signs of what they call ‘adulting’. When the solitude that you loved starts to be suffocating. When you start wishing to be somewhere else. When you finally see the world as a big, scary place. When you begin to lose your dreams. When you see everyone else going this way and that, and you’re standing right where you are, not knowing which way to go. When every failure is no longer funny, but has grown fangs and bitten into you deep enough to leave you limping. When you realize that there’s actually no one you can listen to — not your favorite author, musicians, doctors, politicians, and sometimes even those people closest to you — for in the end, all you have is yourself, and the only one you can trust to make a choice for you is you. Because it’s your life, and everything else is fleeting.

You can be kind if you are strong enough, because the world needs such a beautiful thing. But to others like me, who are rather weak, fickle, and easily lost, be a realist. Don’t be mean, but try putting yourself over others. Don’t aim for acceptance, but rather, survival. The former is a luxury we can’t afford to invest in. Keep Christ close to you, or whoever your God is, because He will keep you going. Be wary of the dangers of this world, of the things that may crush you in the end, but find something that tethers you to the beauty and joy of being alive — a person, a thing, a hobby, anything that reminds you that there is goodness, there is God. You can be good without people knowing. After all, what is a thousand likes when you are all alone in the end?

And when you are strong enough to be kind, be a fairy. Help people get what they deserve. Make them happy. Be a fairy in any way you can — promote your hardworking employee, applaud the dancer who missed a step, teach your students well (and make sure you actually taught them what you put in the exams), or adopt that homeless dog across the street. Or be a lawyer, and try to put things in order.

I don’t know who I’m going to be just yet. All I know, right now, is that I want to be a fairy.


Why Share Your Day

19 Nov

I’ve had this blog for years now and I just realized I haven’t written much about myself (because I haven’t written much at all, actually). Yes, everything I wrote was out of my personal ideas and viewpoint but I never wrote about my life. I keep a diary for self-expression and I never saw the point of revealing yourself to the world. I mean, who cares what you’re wearing right now or who your favorite writer is, right?

Recently I’ve been visiting a celebrity’s blog often and I find it nice that she wrote much about herself and her experiences. Of course it’s interesting, because she’s popular and all, but beyond that, her posts long before she became famous quite had an effect on me. It feels somehow wonderful to see what life is in someone else’s perspective, like reading someone’s diary. Yes, we claim that we understand that all people have feelings, their own problems, preferences and whatnot, but we rarely actually try to see things from their perspective. I think reading about trivial things like how someone else’s day went, where she spent the afternoon or what music she listens to would make us feel – and not just mentally ‘understand’ – that life is so much bigger than we think. Life is not just about ‘me’, or ‘you’; it’s ‘us’. Cliche as it sounds, it’s true. Have you ever looked out your window and wondered how the world looked to that bearded man rushing across the street? What he’s thinking, where he’s going, what made him decide to wear black on such a sunkissed day? I don’t know about you, but I find a sense of fulfillment everytime I think of how the universe is made up of infinite connected stories of clueless characters. I hope someone else feels the same way; it would really be nice if we try to step out of our self spotlight and try to review the day in somebody else’s eyes. Because of your catharsis of being just one speck in this planet, you missed 7 billion other ways of seeing life today.

What I’m saying is that I’ll be starting to post personal stuff. I think it would be helpful for my introspection, being an introvert and all. I bet most of the things I’ll write are beyond the knowledge of even my closest friends! Anyway I encourage you to do the same. I would be fun!  You can go visit http://daringtolivefully.com/journal-prompts for journal prompts!

P.S The celebrity blog I was talking about is http://www.mainemendoza.com Such a brilliant and beautiful lady.


Bye, Neverland: Thoughts on Becoming 18

3 Nov

 NOTE: This was written on November 2, 2015 and posted a day later.          

You could just guess the context in which I’m writing in. It’s Halloween, but what really spooks me is the fact that tomorrow’s the day I officially leave Neverland. I’m not sure how I feel about it, but turning 18 isn’t exactly exciting for me. I always thought age is just a number and that it wouldn’t matter anyway. I wouldn’t wake up tomorrow with a rainbow horn or wings or whatever special attribute that would make people congratulate me at first sight. Nothing’s going to change. But as I look up at the ticking clock above the doorway, I feel kind of anxious. A surge of thoughts boil up in my head, and I have no idea how to put it all out coherently.

I was planning to go out alone on my day though. I wanted to go downtown and take random directions and just get lost in the heart of the city. It doesn’t sound safe though, and the bipolar weather makes the idea less appealing. I guess I’ll be home all day, replying to text messages and facebook wall posts and hopefully, watching my favorite noontime show.

I just can’t believe I’m turning 18 in six hours. I’d be physically, socially, and legally a grown-up. I don’t like the sound of it. The years have gone by like a whirlwind, it seems like only yesterday when I first called up my imaginary phone pal named Jack. It’s so surreal that I was once that girl who stepped from her backyard into a make-believe world where monarch cats rule and a broken bridge hangs low by a magical river. It has been years since I last imagined myself there, but that doesn’t say I grew up.


I’m currently in a stressful phase of my life. I’m at a major turning point of my educational direction (and soon inevitably eventually the rest of my life) and I know my indecisiveness has been a total burden to my family. I only make major decisions a few times, yet I screw up most of them because of my perspective that is definitely the opposite of constant. My dad thinks I’m taking things for granted, that I’m not being serious with stuff this important. Not that he said it out loud, I just have enough common sense to read implications between the lines. In our family, we traditionally celebrate birthdays with simple exclusive dinners at home. I wish I could tell them how much I don’t want to celebrate tomorrow, regardless how simple. I want everyone to ignore the day in exchange for allowing me to enact my decision one more time.

I’ve always been irresponsible – I hate it, and probably a lot of people feel the same, well to my oblivion – and right now I am suffering its terrible consequences. I hope among the magic that age 18 brings is responsibility. I know I’d need it to survive adulthood, or at least, to pave a rather decent life for myself.


“I’m starting to understand that making people smile is a way of holding back tears.”

In my 18 years, I have been an introvert. As much as there is nothing wrong with it, I wish I could be that person who makes people smile their worries away. I think I’ve never been this sad before. These past months I’ve been feeling so lonely (I love being alone, but feeling lonely is a completely different story) and misunderstood. It’s one unfortunate thing about me: people don’t understand, and I can’t explain. Nobody understands how sad I am right now, not even my closest friend who I confide in. It’s basically because I fail – miserably – at expressing what I truly feel. My uttered words aren’t as coherent and convincing as the ones I write. Anyway my point here is that I feel so sad right now that I have the urge to make people happy. DO YOU GET IT? I still can’t examine deeply how I came up with it, but I’m starting to understand that making people smile is a way of holding back tears. If you can’t have happiness, give it to someone else. I don’t know how I’d do it though. I’m not exactly a cheery and friendly person. I always get stuck in awkward situations where the best I could do is smile like an idiot and wish Hades would surprise me with an instant trip to the Underworld. I don’t easily make friends because I don’t usually initiate – my approach to people is generally dependent on theirs.


I admit my faith in God is at its nadir right now. I believe in Him, that’s for forever, but I can’t find it in my emotional and mental state to trust Him wholeheartedly. I just experienced what is probably my greatest failure yet in my life, and I must admit it has blown me and severely damaged my ability to cope up with reality. It didn’t affect me much emotionally though. I have encountered too much emotional instability these past few months that I’ve grown numb. I’d like to think that God has a great reason for everything – every little thing, and I have seen it in someone else’s life. I try to just believe that it will all make sense, but then it would be a lot better if He directly speaks to me that I may know whether I am interpreting His signs right. When I turn 18, I wish my faith in Him will grow stronger and myself wiser that I may be able to see the greater reason behind all things.


I don’t know what else to say, I’m pretty much distracted as I write. I still glance at the window, hoping Peter Pan would show up and take me to Neverland where I’d be forever young and free of grown-up worries. I’m not ready to grow up, not yet. But then again, I think nobody’s ever ready to grow up. People just don’t know how they get there. I don’t recall the day when I officially stopped playing with dolls. I can’t even state the year of that one Sunday when I didn’t bother to scan through the newspaper for my favorite kids’ section. I can’t tell when I kept my beloved stuffed Minnie up a cabinet instead of hugging her to sleep. Soon I’d grow up to be an adult, and I wouldn’t notice it. But as far as calculation and numbers are involved, that phase should start tomorrow. Of course there would be no overnight evolution, and 18 would still be just a number – one that would probably invalidate my passport to Neverland.

But more importantly, I still don’t know who I am – what I want, who I specifically want to be. The world around seems to be running according to a plan where I have no place in. I drown in expectations, options, and endless nostalgia. Oftentimes I feel lost in a maze I wish no young minotaur would inherit. I call up Jack again after about ten years, believing that he’s my guardian angel. He doesn’t answer back, but just tonight, I think I hear him say that all I need is faith, trust, and Pixie dust.

The Journal Mentality

28 Apr

So how do you write a longer preview of a story so short without turning the article into a journal or something?

I had trouble with that one night.  I kept my eyes glued on the screen, hoping something would just pop out in an instant and bingo! I got my story longer! Daydreams aside, my problem here is that, well, I was writing this news story, and traditions order it to be written as it is.  No extra fuss.  So what’s the thing? I’m worrying on how it would look like on the newspaper!  I mean, I’ve tried adding extra words, a little of my own interpretation (which is prohibited by the way), and longer statements.  But it didn’t help much.

Fine, I know, a good writer can play with words, any good story could be expressed in a million words, whatever that’s good could be converted into words just as good.  I’m not saying I’m a good writer, but I’m not that bad either.  It’s just that, I think, some things ought to remain simple and untouched.  I’ve tried expounding it as careful as I can, and I find myself writing this.  Yeah, I‘m writing this to keep my unrelated ideas from the news I was writing.  That was something real, and not some blog I’m not even sure somebody is reading.  Oh and look, unknowingly I’ve made this one longer than my news story.  Frustrating.  I get it, I’m no good journalist.  But at least when I finally printed my story, I knew I just prevented a diary entry from getting published in a school paper.  If ever, that would be a disaster.  I can only imagine my editor’s distorted face.

I wonder why I can’t just write some news as naturally as this.  Look, all I know is I was just tapping some keys, and then Microsoft reports I’ve written 314 words.  And to think I barely even reached 200 in my article.  What a bummer.

I guess this could only be explained by one thing, and I call it “the journal mentality”. It’s like human nature in a somehow artistic form.  People have this innate manner of voicing out what they feel inside, whether it concerns others or not.  We feel the need to express our thoughts, and it could be through voice or pen.  This is why some people keep a diary, in case you’ve ever wondered how anyone would engage in such silly stuff.  So they freak out when somebody reads it huh?  Because they do not write it for anyone to read!  It’s to express, basically for self-satisfaction.

People have side comments on everything and they just can’t help but blab about it.  Fine, there are the silent types including myself.  And do I need to explain about them? Maybe in some other entry, I’d try expounding.  If I’m not mistaken, there are no silent people in the world.  Some may be vocal in expressing, but others make noise in some other way, like writing, drawing, or to make it concise, art.  I’m more of the latter type.  But the point here is, everybody has the journal mentality.


(This was written months ago.)