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Listen to the ramblings I make when I am alone. Tell me what you think of them, and I will forever be grateful.
It's a known fact that I keep a personal journal. I started writing on it in the closing months of the seventh grade. I had a crush on a girl— her name was Ali— and I had to tell someone. I had to gush about her.
However, my journal has evolved to become more than a narrative of events in my life. It has become the personal record of my thoughts and my emotions, as well as my observations of life and the questions I ask myself everyday. I am a teenager, I admit candidly, and my journal isn't unique. Countless others have asked the questions I asked, countless others have faced the trials I have faced, countless others have committed the same mistakes I have made.
Yet, the difference is I have experienced it all myself.
It is written in my viewpoint, and told in my voice. The questions may not be important to you, but they were to me at the time I wrote them. The trials may have been trivial in your opinion, but they felt like the end of the world to me.
My journal is a habit. Although I do not write on it every night, I do make it a point to write regularly. I write what I think, what I feel, and what I see. I fix my entries into the spectrum of time by citing the date and the time, as well as the events of the moment. My journal is so much of a habit that sometimes I find myself shaping each entry on my mind during my daily commutes.
Most of the entries I have made on my journal may never see the light of day. They may never be read by anyone other than me. A few have been read by close friends, browsed and commented on. But I have kept most of my journal private, and I prefer it that way.
But some entries, I feel, are best shared.
So why not peer into the madness that I have made for myself?
So without further ado, some excerpts from my inner life. (By the way, if you find this material too angsty, feel free to excuse yourself from reading)
[...] refers to omitted material, either to protect my privacy or to shorten the material. Text in between '[' and ']' are personal commentary, or notes of explanation.
[...] ROTC: Met (or should I say was introduced?[sic]) Eman Antonio's brother. I already knew him by personality, face, etc. but not by name. Strange, I know, but it's happened a lot of times. Joem/Joaquim. Yes he has the same first name as my block mate.
Anyway, this guy's thinking was interesting. He was active-minded, and very political (if I may use the term broadly). On the bus to Crossing, he and I talked about Synthesis [an opinion newsletter distributed in UA&P], politics, issues, investigative journalism, high school journalism, opinions... the talk was pretty broad.
By the way, my sister's attending the YFC Youth Camp in Antipolo.
It would be interesting to note how people here in UA&P perceive me.
How do you work your way out of a cultural framework?
[referring to "coños", apologies to Spanish speakers] Do I really talk like that? Is the way of talking I hear and I despise, my way of talking? Does it matter?
Man has the capacity to change. He is lucky— he possesses one of the greatest gifts: free will. He alone knows of his own self-referential existence. He does not (as the existentialists say) have a predefined existence or nature. He can be who he wants to be.
And yet a lot of mankind does not fully realize this fact. (Is the grammar correct?) They live not fully understanding the impact of this fact.
[...] Maybe I should publish this. I mean, I publish entries at least one year old. Hmm... Publish the Coma volume* first? Maybe. It's ceased to be totally personal. I'd like to share my thoughts with the world. I'd like to be able to tell the world how I think in my private moments. Then again, I should contemplate on the repercussions of doing that. I mean, it might affect how I'll be writing here if I'm aware that my thoughts would eventually be published. What do you do?
[...] This volume should last until at least September. A more reasonable estimate would be November. December would be stretching it. Either way, I'll need a new volume before the start of next year. How time flies— I wouldn't have imagined writing a year past 2000. Maybe I need to pinch myself to wake up to the reality— this is the 21st century.
[...] Discovered a site named halfproject. Cool design and it's Filipino-made. Linked by Zeldman (woah). That alone is impressive. The site (excruciating on 56K dialup) is highly graphical.
halfproject's gotten me inspired to be a web designer. Do I have the guts, the creativity, and the know-how? Guts & know-how: yes; creativity: err... maybe? Really, I don't know if I do.
This was an experiment with some sort of stream-of-consciousness writing.
poverty is dehumanizing... poverty... gilingang bato... collector... debts... kapit sa patalim... drunkard... gambler... inevitable... kapit sa patalim... child prostitution... inevitable. inevitalble. social reality. this is. why?? why? what do we do? can we do? (back to story mode, Mr. Ungriano)... panganay— heavy burden... 1st child... 2nd parent... seven children, 11 children... babaero... farmer... "mahilig magararo"...
society is complex... simple yet complex?... complex in its simplicity... inevitable... reality...
Watched a play. "Sanitarium." Enjoyed. Niño [my cousin] should have watched. Damn it all. Afterwards, joined Carlo [another cousin] in a band gig in Katipunan. Saw C****** R******** (C****? C******? C******? I can't remember now**).
Thoughts on upper/middle classes, rock, rebels, teenage life, fitting in, alcohol & cigarettes, "normal" people— all of that— are flooding my head. I downed a bottle of beer, so I can't speak. Properly.
I'm not meant to be with people? Maybe. I doubt.
I'm not lucid enough to write my thoughts, yet this is the perfect opportunity. Damn. I'll try...
The gig— felt very upper/middle class. The place was relatively empty, but the people who were there were definitely in the upper/middle. What do the real majority of teenagers do? I'm basing my definition of the real majority on the
classeconomic strata. Why is this so? Why do we drink alcohol? Smoke? Peer pressure? I doubt. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I have it all wrong— what about society at large? What about the "colonial mentality" [sic]? Why is it so complex? What about this world? What about God?"Sanitarium"— what is "normal"? What is the norm? Why? What is the reason behind the statistics? Why? Should it be like that? (We don't know).
Social strata— what are we doing about it? Why? Teenage Life: How, Where, Why???
[...]
[...]
Am I a writer? A writer of what— essays? An essayist? Then again, as I hear myself say I am not a good writer, as I tell that to myself I remember Fr. Perez's words to me. He said, to the effect, that I shouldn't be disheartened because I am still young and inexperienced, and so my talent is rough. Which makes sense.
But that begs the question: do I have talent? I am not in the position to answer. After all, I am asking that question about myself, and I do not want to delude myself into a supposition. But do I? How about my web designing skills? Do I have talent? [...]
I guess I am still trying to grasp who I am. I am still lost in my dreams, and I refuse to wake up. I feel my attempts to rise out of the dream state are half-hearted at first, but are slowly coalescing into this powerful surge [...] to get out. [...]
But a geek cannot transform into a princess, at least in real life. Either you're too beautiful to be geeky or too geeky to be beautiful. It's a gross generalization, but it's quite true. Think about it.
That's not to say being beautiful equates with being ditzy. I've known beautiful people with a good load of ideas in between their ears. The fact is people tend to see beauty first and character second. They see you as beautiful before they see you as smart. Example B***** G******* [**]. She's beautiful. She's smart. But she was taken as a model, noticed for her beauty.
Intelligence has stopped being "sexy." Probably because there are no more Einsteins in the world. There are no more great minds for people to hear and see. [I didn't have Stephen Hawking in mind]
Pop culture: we are a race of visual people [...]
Maybe I'm bitter because I'm a geek. Maybe I wanted to fit in; maybe, just maybe, I wanted to be part of the "in" crowd in high school.
If only I could change the world. Then maybe fairy tales will come true.
*My journal is divided into several "volumes", in actuality several notebooks. The Coma volume I refer to is the first notebook I wrote my journal on.
**Names have been crossed out to protect the privacy of those concerned. They don't know I mentioned them in my journal, and since I'm publishing excerpts, I have to respect their privacy. If they happen to read this entry (and subsequently identify themselves here), I can always say it wasn't them I was mentioning.
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