Lost for Words

I've been a writer for as long as I could remember. I've always been writing to express myself ever since I was young. I could still recall the first time I've realized that I can write.

It was in grade school during one of those undying theme papers our teachers asked us to write. I don't know why but I somehow enjoy writing those compositions and I find myself wanting to write on all the topics that they gave us as options. I usually get commended for having a nice composition and I've experienced having my masterpieces being read in class. Although, it wasn't all a hit. I had misses here and there but I just love to write. So, I cared less.

The journey continued on with theme papers in my elementary school life until I decided one day to brave the odds and joined our school paper, the Judenites. Luckily, I was able to get in and be trained in campus journalism. My talents weren't always recognized because the people I work with are insanely good and I am so proud to have worked with them because they really made me a better writer. I've grown so much in Judenites, especially after staying there for more than 4 years and being trained by great mentors. It was insane. It's the students that really made the publication alive and it was a great feeling to be producing issues that we've worked so hard for as a team. I don't know if I could speak for my EIC back then but for me, it really felt great. I suppose those were my best memories of being in a publication. We were able to compete in various competitions and we did place and I had a family there. I felt the camaraderie beyond the publication. Well, I suppose it's incomparable especially if I was able to spend a longer time with my fellow Judenites.

Anyhow, to continue, I entered college with the mindset of focusing on my academics alone. In my consciousness, I've done practically everything that concerns extracurricular activities - representing the school in different Chinese singing contests, one of the Associate Editors of the Judenites newspaper, vice president of the math club, secretary of the Knights of the Altar Society, SJCS Racketeers varsity player, Literary Editor of Scratch Comic Book Club, Member of the Science Club and Member of the Drama Guild and other activities. I just haven't had any academic awards at all. I was in the honor roll in 1st and 2nd year high school but that never happened again after. As I said, I'm at rank 40-50 from 179 students. I wanted to have an academic achievement in college. I wanted to steer clear from extracurricular activities and that included writing. I actually entered an agreement with my friends that I will not join any organization in college.

I spoke too soon.

I entered the Nursing Journal because the call of passion was simply irresistible. I signed up despite my mother's disapproval and she didn't know that I joined the paper not until I was to become the editor-in-chief and brought up the topic.

As a writer during the first year, it was a nice ride. I loved the experience in the sense that I was able to work on really interesting topics and meet great personalities. I know for a fact that making interview articles is my forte. I love meeting people and getting to know them through conversations and letting people know how great these persons are. I was able to interview Fr. Factora before he became our college regent. It was an awesome experience and I loved being a writer. However, as a writer, I was able to see some room for improvement. In my mind, I knew that I might not grow in the organization so I was contemplating on leaving or staying. I was finding more reasons to leave when I was suddenly offered by the editor-in-chief to become his features editor. It was quite a decision to make. I've said to myself, "Well, you wanted to do something. This is the opportunity."

I accepted the job even if I knew that I would have to handle writers from higher levels. It was quite a challenge. I remember having a nasty encounter with my soon to be features editor (as I became his editor-in-chief) when he challenged me in our first online encounter. but it was a good experience. I was already feeling a bit of the burn out but it was okay. I was still able to write and cover some events and I was able to find the whole ensalada enjoyable. Unfortunately, I didn't make it to the Dean's list for the first semester in my second year. I was then offered by my EIC to take his place for the next year. I was hesitant to accept the job but as I said before, I wanted to make a difference and this is the opportunity to share God's gifts to me and be a gift or "blessing" to others. I made sure my grades were really high for the second semester and then I finally accepted the job.

Third year was a hell year and being the editor-in-chief didn't make it easy. It was also accreditation year and the expectations for me was really high. They were really expecting a lot from me being the EIC in my junior year. It was tough. It was brutal and there were a lot of moments when I just wanted to quit. I mean I do not enjoy this. I enjoy writing. I hate the editing part and having to deal with incompetent buffoons who call themselves writers. Add to that, I had to face a lot of detractors and people who give unsolicited advices which were far off from the utmost principles and foundations of being a journalist. It was difficult to move around a world where people are so critical of whatever you are doing and where people think highly of themselves. Every issue that was released have criticisms here and there. It was either a grammar error that slipped my eyes, a layout glitch, a printing error, the delayed release... the list is endless. I have had great betrayals from non-cooperative writers who chose not to write and exploit the publication's errors publicly. I had to work with people who just know how to complain but did nothing to make things better. Heck! These people may be in the publication but they didn't even write when they needed to write. What's worse was there were people who couldn't write, draw or take pictures who can't stop their complaining. I just wonder what could they have done if they were in my position. I swear, if they asked for it, I gave it to them. I didn't want the position. I just want the art. I just want having to make a difference. If there was someone better for the job, I would have given way. That's my principle. I am not selfish enough to prevent the publication from having a better leader.

Okay, I've ranted too much once again, I suppose. Anyhow, it was truly challenging - being the editor-in-chief of the Nursing Journal. I got really burnt out and now, I find myself having a difficult time in writing anything.

Perhaps, I developed a repulsion or aversion when it comes to writing. The negative experiences are forever attached to the art that I was so passionate about. I wasn't able to write for quite a while and perhaps the only thing fueling me with this composition is because I needed to release all of this crap that I've kept intact for the duration of my editorship. I've grown tired of not expressing what I normally expressed through my compositions. I am tired of not being able to express my feelings and sentiments toward people because of my job. I am tired of keeping my mouth shut about this load of crap and concealing the hell I lived with from the others.

People think it's easy. Perhaps it would have been easier if I wasn't running for honors or I was smarter. This is me. this is what I'm given so I'll have to make the best out of it. But I guess that's also the problem. I was given the gift of writing. I had that craft. I enjoyed it and I had so much enthusiasm...

But now, it seems that it is at large...

I can't seem to write the way I used to write...

I can no longer find the words...

I don't have that same drive I had when I was starting..

I can no longer sit still and finish a composition when I'm quite lucid

I can't sit still and try writing or editing for more than 5 minutes.

My stress reliever became the sole source of my stress.

While the service was fulfilling, it was personally detrimental.

While, I was blessed with the opportunity to make a change and I would like to think that I did, I was also cursed with the burn out... and the unfortunate circumstance to see that the world can be infested by parasites.

For quite some time, I was at a lost for words. For this sporadic moment, I am not. But tomorrow, I may very well be. I don't know. But I wish things would go back to the way they were. Back when I was still happy being surrounded by my lovely words.

Little Things

Sometimes, it's the small and childish things that we do that hurts others more than we can imagine. It may have been just for fun. But you don't know the wounds that you've opened and the damages that you have done.

For you, you were able to reap a few minutes of laughter with that stupid and foolish act. For me, it reminded me of all the things that I had to endure because of that flaw in my life. Yeah. I hope you're still happy with what you've done. Because even as we speak, I'm hurting and I might be hurting for a long time.

Thank you for being so fucking sensitive. 

Yeah. And I still call you my friend?

Merv, i may nvr knw hw hurt u are bt i cudnt believe wat u are doing. Maskt kg mskt bt wat u are doing is creating a greater irreversible damage than wat u've experiencd. I may nvr experience wat u've bin thru for 2 yrs bt u cud nvr match to the 2 years of wat ive gven to the colege. Y? Becoz no mater hw many pipol tried to destroy the council and me, ive nvr and wil nvr resort to wat u are doing. Ur 1 of the true frnds that i have bt i cudnt and wil nvr suport wat u r doing becoz communication cud easily resolve ds dilema. Sori merv bt i hope u cud realize the acts that u have done to our colege.


If communication could have easily resolved this matter, it should have started from the side of the candidates from the start. The efforts of communicating are acknowledged. Pero marami hindi na katanggap-tanggap yung nangyari. Low blow yun na hindi lang makukuha sa isang "sorry" sa amin. Wala naman kaming sinisiraan. Pinapaalala lang namin na irespeto ang pahayagan. Tumutulong kami sa inyo sa coverage ng events niyo pero ganyan ang pagtrato niyo. I can easily stop. The others won't be able to. Perhaps if there are some things that would enrage council members and staffers. There are some things that only journalists can understand.


Pero merv, wat do u thnk ang naramdaman namin nun pntan0ng un nature? Isnt it a low blow as wel to us? My only point is the act that u have done is nt the ryt one and wat it has done is a greater damage dan wat any of us cud have expectd. Im sori merv, i knw ur mad and evrythng bt do remember that there are situations dat cud cloud ur judgment and one of them is being mad


Perhaps, pero paano kaya kayo nagreact nun? Stopping a program? How do we hurt the college when we tell the students to respect the publication which has been dragged in a political mess? Dapat lang malaman ng students na hindi dapat dinadamay ang publication sa gulo ng mga tumatakbo. Di naman kami nanggulo. Grabe, bakit parang bawal kami makaramdam ng galit at hinanakit when you clearly haven't stopped talking about it publicly? Di ba nakakasira rin yan? Di na ba studyante at bahgi ng college ang naaagrabyado? Please do it first before even thinking about it. It's a different context.



I won't argue wth u anymre kc alam k0ng marerealize m rn gnwa m



Kasi wala kaming sinisiraan. It's a simple statement na apolitical and neutral kami.ü

Cyclical Occurences

It's time, once again, to write a damn editorial and a column. It's also time to edit a humungous pile of articles that would give me intense anaphylactic shocks with insanely erroneous grammar. I really am starting to get sick of this job. There are times when I feel like I am getting infected with their linguistic diseases and there would not be enough verbal vaccine to serve as prophylaxis. What's worse is that when it's my time to write, I suddenly see myself withdrawing to stagnation and spacing out. the passion that I keep trying so hard to burn all throughout the assumption of my position hath proven to be insanely futile as I have been in constant burn out. I believe I can even win the award for the student who had endured a burn out the longest - 2 damn freaking years of editorship. Honestly, there ain't gain. You get criticized, complained at. People scrutinize your outputs and those who have been favored are just plane ingrates. Yes. I hate this job but I do it because I believe I'm the best person for the job and this is the sacrifice that I have to make for the college and of course for my batch. Yeah. Doesn't make sense. I know. I hate this fucking superego. Sheeet. I need to have some damn sleep. My lids are closing and the serotonin is high. I just have to continue this soon.

Just a Breather.

Present in most fragments of my existence is my fondness of playing with words. No matter where I go and what I am up to or involved with, I find a way to make words exist in various places and in various ways. Perhaps the oddity of exploring the Tumblr world is included in one of my insane moments but I deem it happened for a reason. 

I reside in some simple words and the fun of playing with them to encapsulate or even grasp in the simplest or minutest way how I feel or what my thoughts are. I choose to place those fragments in various places that are oftentimes inaccessible to people who would not be able to handle the information responsibly or could not even in the slightest mile comprehend the shallowest thoughts or dig through the deepest of all meanings. Thus, multiple blogs existed with many randomness and non-sense as its contents. But as I often said  only one would be the venue of all my insanity and it shan't be accessible to those undeserving. 

But as I lost myself into my pool of thoughts that I have been pouring out in places known to a few, multiple leaks of defamation and derogatoriness have circulated and embedded in controlled and dependent individuals who seem incapable of developing their own opinions. Enduring false criticisms are one thing. But to allow ignorant creatures to structure the mind of innocent individuals in believing their callous morals and erroneous principles is not something that an idealist like me could withstand. Its easier to keep quiet amidst personal blows as it would favor me to discover who are trustworthy and mature. But to try and shape the public to have a certain mentality be it directly or not is unacceptable. I'll fight for justice and karma will be your bitch. I shan't put things in my hands like the self-righteous would. I shall only defend what I should defend like a loving father would do for his family. Whatever casualties shall be brought to the offenders are products of your doing. I wish that you creatures, if you are still considered as beings with souls and conscience would find it in yourselves to ponder on the thought that you brought this mess to yourselves. 

On that note, if I may have been silent in the public places where I have kept quiet, I believe it's time to reveal the truth.

At the Breaking Point.

They don't know how much it hurts and they don't know how insulting it could be. Sometimes, it's okay to have fun but they have to know when to get serious. It's okay to be lenient but you have to know when not to be.

I'm tired of allotting time for practices when I have other priorities that needs to be taken cared of. I want to lend my voice to the chorale but the publication needs me more than that. I think I'm quite done with this. Another one and I might break away. I no longer feel good joining it if this would be the case. The singing part is great but the pressure for Himig Tomasino is intense. Add to that, the personal relationships just really aggravate everything. It's bull shit. They think it's not noticeable? Bull. It's too obvious how things are going and who's emerging as a pair. 

What hurts more is that at the end of the road, I might have to face the journal alone once again. I don't know if the people who promised to help will help. Add to that, I somehow feel that I no longer want to do any of these arts. It brings me pain and disappointment. 

Breather

I guess no one can ever figure out the misery running through my psyche unless they have the unfortunate ability to read my mind and sense my emotions. 

It has been one tiring ride to have trudged on and yet I find myself in the middle of the road trying to make well with scraps of junk trying to grasp something when there is nothing there to hold on to. That's basically the story of my everyday life. Trying to make do keep the flame alive when there is no fuel to even let it ignite. I don't know how much I will be able to endure. My resilience is proving to be frail and the efforts are again, as always futile. It used to be a great grand psy-war. But now, it has become physical - somnolent detachment seems to be the only resolution when the corporal won't even cooperate for some fragments of time. It used to be able to endure the tests of difficulties and challenges. Now, it's just succumbing to the greatest threats of wear and tear. How much more will I be able to take? I'll soon find out. But as smart as I always try to be, I don't take risks that I cannot handle. So there, I'll take some resignation to the fact that I am no superhuman. I need my rest and I can only get it when I give it to myself. 

I bid farewell to the non-essentials and the postpone-able. For now, I need to keep the eyes on the prize and chase for that end in mind. Mediocrity is not acceptable, failure or anything less of the goal is not acceptable and regrets will never take place in my life as I continue with this race. 

It just really sucks how those people who are so close to you can be the ones to hurt you. I guess I should never let anyone in... I can't let anyone hurt me.

It seems that I can update my blog only on weekends. Things went back to how it was as usual, only busier now. I just feel that need of having a break and getting loads of inspiration because everything has been drained like hell. It is one tiring week and everything seems to be falling apart. I need to make things work.