Of rainbows and unicorns

Are they even real?

Rainbows and unicorns?

Do you remember grade school days when we are made to climb the shiny-oil- coated-bamboo pole that bears a surprise reward on top?

Unicorns and rainbows are like the highly coveted reward on the tip of the bamboo pole.

They bear the only reason to endure the uncertain and tiresome climb.

They fool us to push harder up and take the prize only to find out it’s only a stupid candy, hair clip and worst a smiley to cheer us up.

Well, the prizes are exaggerated examples of how we made fool of ourselves scratching our legs and arms to get on top and finish the race.

Yes, the race.

The race determines the climbers’ endurance, strength and perseverance while the audience get to judge who’s the clumsiest and the slowest climber.

We get judged for believing that there is a rainbow after the rain.

We get laughed for believing that unicorns are beautiful and magical but we ignore the soundless boos because we believe that the prize after the race is worth the rainbows and the unicorns.

Really?

Will we ever get to meet the rainbows and unicorns of our lives?

Are we goin’ to keep climbing on the slippery pole? Will it be worth it? Will the rainbows and unicorns ever live up to our expectations of rewards?

Or are we gonna just admit that rainbows and unicorns are the authors’ way of lying about its incapacity to know what’s ahead?

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Clown

Pretending so hard to understand. Faking patience. Forging happiness.

Funny.

Well, some things are.

Most of the times, we are.

I am hardly funny but I really feel funny at times.

Pretending so hard to understand. Faking patience. Forging happiness.

Yes, I do that. Do you do that? Everybody does that, or so I think.

Do we not feel funny every time we look back and wish we’ve done better?

Do you not think of how you wasted an opportunity to hit back an enemy but choose to stay cool and quiet? It’s funny, isn’t it?

When your blood is literally boiling up there on your head and you choose to say “It’s okay”. When you cannot even shout and throw things when you’re extremely mad, isn’t that funny?

I found that really funny.

How funnily I try to control myself not to hurt others but hurting myself in the process.

That’s funny, right?

It is an escape. An escape from my unthinkable reactions toward frustrations.

Instead of wallowing in regrets, I choose to laugh it off and call it funny.

Then, that’s how I started to feel funny about the things that don’t go my way.

I feel funny for the times I wanted to do what feels right at the moment but still choose to breathe and  stick to what ‘s right.

I feel funny for sucking my tongue in instead of hurling back hurtful words to insensitive folks who open their mouths just for the heck of it.

Yes, I feel funny every time I choose to stay damn quiet instead of making a point.

Like now, I’m writing this instead of telling them.

 

 

Dreams

Had such big dreams.

Have big dreams ’til now.

Silence. Travel. Write.

Haven’t written anything significant to others until now. It must feel good to touch and inspire other people’s lives. I want to write to inspire others. I want to write for I want to do that one thing I really love to. But here I am, stuck in the I-want-to’s of my coward weak little self.

Conscious.

So conscious of how others will feel about my thoughts. My words. My writings. Every time I finish a sentence or a paragraph, I put myself to a halt. I’ll think of the next paragraphs and sentences instead of writing them down directly. I think of good words, impressive ones then, I lost it. I lost my goal to write my thoughts. I lost the goal to write for myself because I started writing for others. I started writing for their preferences. The audiences have kept me stuck away from my goal. And I gladly abide.

Goal.

It is somehow confusing. I want to write. I need to write. I need to translate into words the emotions I can’t bear to express. I need to release the tension using these words so I may not hurt others. Yes. I have a great tendency to hurt others when I can’t hold onto my feelings. I have the tendency to punish and hurt myself when I cannot understand myself. In the middle of writing, I usually pause, think of other stuff and then again, I lost it.

Heartbreak.

I’ve discovered writing through a heartbreak. Yes, because a little girl’s heart was broken by the man she thought she owes her life forever. The little girl’s heart was then stepped on by another man who made her heart flutter, her cheeks red and her knees wobble. Then, he breaks her heart into pieces. So, she lost it.

Mask. 

The mask is born. Because others should not know the little girl is crying, she wore the mask everyday of her life. She smiles. She laughs. She dances. She even sings. She does a lot with that mask on. And when she’s tired, she takes off the mask. The swollen red eyes were there, holding back the tears, too tired to even blink. Nights. Days. Weeks. Months. Years. Time passed. The little girl has grown in size. So, as the mask.

Sleep.

For a long time, she forgot about writing. She found a new  friend. A new way of eluding pain. Sleep. But her body got tired of sleeping. She needs to wake up. She needs to write. Erasures. Deletions. She’s been welcomed by them. She realized she no longer knows how to put her heart into words. Words had become elusive. Words had become hurtful and deceitful. Words had turned its back on her. She can no longer write. She barely knows what to write.

Write.

That grown up little girl from before wanted to be friends with words again. She wanted to be friends with pens and paper. She believes writing is not for everybody. She once asked ” How would you know that writing is your passion?” The answer was simple, “You’ll never know how good you are when you stop.” So, she writes everyday. That day marks the end of her relationship with her thoughts, with words, with the pens and paper. Because she started writing for others. She completely lost it. She forgot that writing should be her. It is HER. More than anything else in the world, writing is her solace. Her peace. Her quiet place. Her only dummy.

 

Happy then Sad

Very happy then sad,  out of the blue. Some thoughts do matter, others are just ideas, questions, what-ifs, must-haves but they seem important. For someone who fought the odds to be wherever he deserves right now, it’s frightening to note that it doesn’t make him any happier.

Achievements do not make him any greater than others but the absence of it kills him. His life seems complete, happy and great but he kept asking “Is this where am I suppose to be?” Believe. Is what alaways said to him when he’s confused but the same thing is elusive for him. How should he be faithful when faith seems to be the only thing he’s been lacking?

Believe. 

Professionalism 101

Oh yes, I know you are rolling your eyeballs right now because I don’t have the slightest right to write about professionalism because I hardly know it so, help me figure it out.

According to the famous Merriam-Webster online dictionary, professionalism refers to  the conduct, aims, or qualities that characterize or mark a profession or a professional person. Therefore, professionalism encompasses wide array of attributes according to mindtools.com. These attributes include having a specialized knowledge, competency, honesty and integrity, accountability, self regulation and image. 

Look, this is not a lecture of the do’s and dont’s in upholding professionalism but a reminder to every professionals in the planet. Isn’t it annoying when your boss cannot even look at you in the eyes when he give instructions? He fidgets and makes his hands busy all the time while talking and won’t even give you the chance to understand what he’s talking about. Well, he gives an answer immediately to your concern without the slightest thought of it and voila, seconds after, he takes it back like he hadn’t said anything. When he follows you to the comfort room while you are about to execute some serious stuff and instructs you about this and that. When he ignores the suggestion of the body and comes up with the same suggestion in different words, taking it as his own. Pretty convenient, isn’t it?

I have no idea if he ever thought of professionalism every time he does that. How I wish he’ll stepped on some serious professional stuff every time he spreads gossips about his colleagues’ personal lives and agenda. Did he ever feel good being the talker of the dirty laundry of his people? Nobody knows.

Troubled

Thoughts everywhere.

I wanna be a writer of a famous magazine, of a high-rating soap opera or a blockbuster film. I wanna be a vlogger or a blogger. I wanna be a lawyer. I wanna be there! On top! And I can’t. And as I hardly rammed my fingers on the keyboards I can feel my muscles tensed on my left arm, whatever you call that muscle, I don’t give a damn. I just wanna hit these keys and pour everything that I am feeling right now. What I hate the most at this moment is that stupid backspace key trying to stop me from typing another set of nonsense phrases.

All I wanted is an outlet, then until now and forever. I know I have Jesus forever but this stupid human head and heart can’t seem to reconcile with the idea that I should not be bothered because I have everything that I need. This cranky feeling that I have right now is getting the best of me. Pathetic as it may seemed but I’m still concerned of this idiotic abandoned feeling. I should not be feeling pathetic because I’ve been telling myself that I am blessed but these stupid thoughts racing in my mind are getting crazy! Driving me crazy in fact. I am feeling crazy right now. And this blog, whom I envisioned to become the nest of my fruitful thoughts and amazing ideas is becoming a trash bin of my unsegregated emotions.

Even when I get all the sleep that I need, I still feel stupid and clumsy and no good. Even when I just had laid out my eggs there is still that feeling down there, wherever it is that I can’t give a name. Now, I can’t blame hormones for these nonsense thoughts. I blame it all on me, for the way I wrongly handled my thoughts so long ago.

I just wanna get hold of myself.

 

Just that.

Have you ever experienced getting used to some stuff that it becomes your routine? I bet everybody does, like me. And suddenly, things changed. Just like that! Just as you are about to be celebrating for finally accepting the unacceptable, it changes. And now you’re back to contemplating on whether you have missed time or have had so much time contemplating that you overlooked other things.

When we say we’re okay and we aren’t. We hope for someone out of the thousands who gave you an everything-will-be-fine-words-of-wisdom will step out and give you the it-is-okay-not-to-be-okay- hug. But then, no one does that. They all leave carrying with them the pride of having consoled a lonely friend. Only few realizes that the it’s okay is never okay because some pain runs and remains deep.

Maybe it is not so sad to be sad at all even when without reason. There are times when I look for that pain within because I think that is what I deserve. Being so happy scares many of us. It scares me most of the time. I can’t help but get paranoid and think of all the potential negative events to come. Paranoia. It kills the life at the moment. It prevents you from being happy today and the day after for the rest of your lives.

There is so much in my mind right now. I should have not waited this long to write them. They are like the dirty and smelly water coming out from the overflowing canal. Expected but unstoppable.