Day 17: What do I wish I could say to someone?

Well, this is awkward. I'm not sure how I can make you listen to me, because you hardly ever do, but I might as well try. I know you probably feel like shit right now--you usually do. You probably feel like you're good for nothing and that you're only here in this world to suffer, but let me tell you this: you're wrong. If only you'd look hard enough, you'd see that you are worth so much more than you think, and that the world's yours for the taking.

I am fully aware of your crippling insecurities, but you need to remember that you are what you are. How you'd fare in the world depends on how you harness what you have. True, you're not the best at anything, but you can be better. Stop comparing yourself with others as it will only make you feel worse. Instead, take notes and improve your craft. Don't look at yourself in the mirror for more than a minute. Well, who am I kidding? You love the mirror. Well, if you must look at yourself in the mirror for more than a minute, remember that everyone has flaws. A lot of people are just good at concealing them--either with makeup or photoshop. Fix what you can, and embrace what you can't. You'll be living with it for the rest of your life, so there's no point in hating.

If you're feeling lost, know that you are right where you're supposed to be. I know how unsure you are of things as you finally start to take charge of your life, but that's the beauty of it. Uncertainty brings forth surprises. You need to remember though, that even if you play the game by your own rules now, you can't win without a good team to back you up. I know how you're trying to invest in memories, but don't forget to invest in people as well.

One more thing: stop living in the shadows. Stand up. Speak up. Be heard. You've got a voice--don't be afraid to use it. (Well, except perhaps when singing is involved) Don't be afraid to make mistakes because you'll learn from it. Stop caring about how you sound to other people, because they don't care how they sound to you. It pays to be silent and reserved, but when you have to, speak. You are your biggest oppressor, so stand up against yourself if you have to. Don't let your brilliant ideas die in the back of your head.

You are on a great adventure, and you are well equipped to face the challenges it brings. Never forget that. Do not ever let anything, or anyone, make you feel less than what you are. You have what it takes to a live a beautiful life, so live it. You may not always get credit for it, but you help make this world a little more interesting. Take pride in that and smile. And when things get a little too much to handle, remind yourself of how strong you are.

Oh, and yeah. Don't forget to believe in me. Always.

Love,

Yourself

Day 16: What do people notice about me?

We are not the best judges of ourselves. That's a proven fact. Most of the time, what we see in the mirror is not what others see. So to keep this free from personal bias, I asked five friends to tell me the first thing they notice about me. With their minds set to the idea of meeting me for the first time, here's what they've got to say:

Ralph said that if he didn't know me, I would seem like an introvert if alone, but would have an outward disposition when with friends. Although he said that physically I seem very fragile, he made up for it by saying I'm witty. He also added that emotionally I come off as someone serious and focused.

When we first met, Cyd said she got the impression that I was a rich kid, and that was what she noticed first. I don't know where she got such an outrageous idea, but that's what she said.

To Emilou, my glasses took the spotlight. She said that my glasses caught her attention, thinking it was just a fashion statement. She found out soon enough that it wasn't the case. She also poked fun at my voice, saying it was another thing she noticed about me.

Marah, one of my BFF's since high school, said that I seem silent and reserved. She also said that I'm the type that people would judge as "maarte" at first, which is very true. I guess this explains Cyd's answer.

After asking him, Macau gave me this for an answer: "The first thing I noticed about Francis was his love for cartoon characters and/or marvel superheroes. It just goes to show how happy his childhood was, enjoying his own fantasy rather than giving a crap on a bitchy reality."

Getting varied answers, I realized that what people notice about you says something about them just as much as it does about you. We choose how we present ourselves to the world, but how we are seen depends greatly upon the world. How's that for an early morning reflection? ;)

Day 15: What do I dislike most about myself?

If you're wondering why it took me so long to write my Day 15, you can blame it on my crazy work schedule and good old procrastination. Also, I haven't been in the writing mood for months now. I feel so out of touch. I even considered quitting the challenge, but something inside prodded me to give it one more go and see it through. After all, I have faced bigger challenges, and will certainly be facing more. So here I am, doing Day 15 at the most inappropiate place and time. Shhh.

As I have mentioned a couple of times, there are plenty of things about me that I don't like. I could write a list, but I don't know how long it would go, and I probably would just end up feeling depressed for days. I try hard not to remind myself of my flaws because I have the rest of the world to do that for me. (And they do the job pretty well, if you ask me) Also, to write down what I dislike most about myself would be especially hard, since I have declared this day to be Good Vibes Monday—and you can't feel bad about yourself on Good Vibes Monday. Sigh. Oh, well.

I don't know how I ever came to be such an insecure being, but that's who I am. And that's what I hate most about myself. I spend most of my alone-time wallowing in self pity and feeling bad for not being good enough. I have my insecurities cling to me like a koala hanging on to a tree. Shaking it off is close to impossible. Sometimes I even think I should see a shrink, simply because I think it's close to being unhealthy. I should explain further, but I don't want to get sucked into the negative feeling (and I don't want to get caught blogging either). So, ciao!

Day 14: What do I like most about myself?

This is one question that I don't get asked often, and so I've never really taken the time to think of an answer. What can I possibly like about myself, when I'm constantly berating myself for not being better? Hmm.. Let's see.

I've had a few days to think of the answer, but somehow it is very elusive. And just when I think I have it, a little voice inside my head would whisper, "Seriously?" It wasn't until about two minutes ago when I finally came around and found the right answer. Well, for now anyway (while that stupid voice is still asleep). I have come to the epic conclusion that the thing I like most about myself is the thing that makes me human, and that is my forbearance towards the harshness of reality. Like most people, I whine and complain over things that come my way, and yet I manage to get through it one day at a time. Sometimes I look back and wonder how I ever made it through some trying times, and then I am reminded of the gift of strength my God has bestowed upon me.

I know that this is not exactly the best answer, nor is it something special, but when you think about it, doesn't it make you feel proud to be so resilient?

Day 3: A photo of me taken more than 10 years ago.

Lost: big-headed child with round cry-baby eyes and pouty lips.

Last seen crying noiselessly in his seat.

If found, congratulations! You have successfully traveled through time.

This photo was taken approximately 20 years ago. I'm not really sure, but I think it was for my nursery ID. Look at that face. What a cry baby! Haha!

There and Back Again

Finding myself sitting in front of computers I thought I'd never see again and swiveling in a chair that still hopelessly needs to be replaced, the reality of the situation slowly sunk in. I was back. A few familiar faces filled the room that had been a huge part of my life from the last quarter of 2009 to the first of 2010. I had traded the nights in my own bedroom to nights in that room once more. I can't say I'm thrilled, but I needed to get back.

I left my first real job about a year ago to fulfill the plans my family and I made the day I walked through the gates of my college. Leaving wasn't all that easy. The road started out rough and ended even rougher, but it brought me close to finding myself. After my part-time job abruptly ended last January, I went back to the familiar seat of bumhood. For 124 days I woke up to questions and went to bed with even more questions. For 124 days I lived with my demons. For 124 days I partially shut myself out of the world. For 124 days I struggled, but I never strayed far from the things that mattered. I loved every minute of it just as much as I hated it. I was living in a world of my own, and it felt good. My art had finally started to take over, but then my obligations walked in and demanded for it to be given some room. Bills started to pile up and my wallet started to lose its purpose. As much as I didn't want my soul to go hungry, there wouldn't be much of it left if my body had to starve.

Now I'm back to where I once came. I had to get out of the rabbit hole whence I spent the last five months and get back to the real world. I had to be practical and so I decided to take the best option available for me. My incredibly-small-scale business couldn't support me and my needs, so I came back to the familiar world of health care insurance and softwares. I came back to sleeping on mall benches at wee hours, and head-bobbing in front of computers. I came back to the laughter of friends (who, by the way, are leaving me alone in my shift!) and long sermons of bosses. I came back to the place I once belonged, hoping that this time around I'd be able to get the best of two worlds.

Down The Rabbit Hole

Of Journals & Such

I've always had a thing for cute notebooks and journals, but can't really find a use for one. I'm bad at keeping track of my life, and I'm not one for writing notes either. As for writing poems & stories, I prefer writing them on the computer. That is why I always resist the impulse to buy, and instead wait for someone to give me one. My collection is slow-growing but the pace it's going suits me just fine.

The green Harry Potter journal was my first. A gift from my father when I turned 13. It holds the records of some important events that took place when I was in high school written in a painfully embarrassing way. Haha! The next one is the big bright green notebook that Liz gave me for Christmas 2007. My "whatever" notebook. I basically just fill it with whatever comes to mind. The third one to join my collection is the green handmade, almost-iridescent green journal I got from Gwen for Christmas 2008. I'm currently still struggling to turn it into a scrapbook. The fourth addition would be the brown Paris notebook Nicole gave me last May. It's the one I'm currently using as a journal and trying so hard to fill. The last one to become part of my feeble collection is James's gift last Christmas. A maroon-and-gold journal that simply looks magical.

If I haven't been writing in my blog lately, it's because I've been writing in my journal instead. The intimacy of writing something to be read by you and you alone has become more and more appealing to me. I find it more liberating because your only audience is yourself. You can bare as much soul as you want, and you won't feel so weird doing it. It's like finding yourself without nobody watching, so you're left with nothing but your instincts to guide you. It's like therapy for free. I'm not saying I'm giving up on blogging however, because it brings me a different kind of joy as well. I'm simply saying that I'm rediscovering a different world. A world of my own.

I know keeping a journal (or a diary if you prefer the term) is not an easy task, but it's really not so hard to do either. You just do what feels right for you. You write, paste, draw, whatever! It's your journal so you make your own rules. That's the best thing about it. You get to keep some memories alive as well. It's like making a personal time machine. You read back and you get transported back in time. If you have one, you probably know what I'm saying, but if you don't, well, try starting one if I've got your curiosity peaked. :)

Black Coffee and Smiley-Pancakes with Extra Strawberry Drizzles

After having a marathon of one of my favorite animated series, I came to a realization. I miss being a kid. Yes, I know I haven't been much of a grown up lately, but what I meant was that I miss being a little child. I miss worrying over the little things like missing my favorite cartoon show and laughing over the silliest things like a corny text joke. I miss waking up on a Saturday morning, excited to have the whole day for playing with my toys and my friends. I miss not feeling guilty over reading comics and kiddie novels instead of school books. And most of all, I miss the freebies that kids get (especially during the holidays!). Haha!

I am now at the age where people expect me to be a mature individual. Yes, at 21, most people would expect you to give up your childish ways. They would expect you to get over your fascination for toys, addiction for video games and enthralment in animated shows. I completely understand why people would expect something like that on 21-year-olds. We are at the age that's ripe for taking responsibility and making things happen. And it's hard, as they say, to get things done when you're hung over your childhood fantasies and crayon-colored world.

As we grow up, we give up the happy-go-lucky child within us. We gag that kid. and lock it up in the deepest, darkest part of our being. We try to ignore it's distant cries and deprive ourselves of the little happiness it bring us when we see that little kid smile. We give in to the notion that growing up means moving on and leaving the child behind, thinking that you can always get back to that kid when you feel you've done what you thought you were supposed to do. But you will never be done with your duties anytime soon. And in time, you'll forget all about that little kid. The moment you'd realize what you've forgotten, it probably would have been too late. And the child you kept hidden for so long would have long been dead.

Just recently a friend of mine told me that she felt like she was starting to get her old princess-y self back. I was genuinely so happy for her because it meant that she hasn't given up the child in her completely. She still had the little girl that believed in happy-ever-afters, the one she was forced to give up for quite some time, in her and waiting for her to open the door that she was locked in. And it was only a matter of time before she could finally set her free once more. However, just after she told me all about it, another friend of mine sort of made a confession that was the complete opposite. He basically told me that he suppressed his love for something because he had become an adult. He was, for a lack of a better word, embarrassed to like something as childish as that thing. And that made me sad.

I'm no expert in Life, but I feel like being young and growing up aren't on different ends of a continuum. I don't think that you have to choose one over the other. I don't think you have to give up a part of you just to be someone that you think you're supposed to be. Keep in mind the wonderful words of G.K. Chesterton: Happy is he who still loves something he loved in the nursery: He has not been broken in two by time; he is not two men, but one, and he has saved not only his soul but his life. Why should you change who you are if you can get the job done just as well when you're being you? Of course, I'm not saying that you should always act like a child because that's just plain stupid. What I'm saying is, give your self a chance to be a kid every now and then, see things through the eyes of a child, and don't be afraid to love the same things that you used to when you were a little tot. It's not immature, nor is it retarded. It's called being yourself.

So to hell with those insignificant people who mockingly chuckle when you get excited over a cartoon that you used to love. Don't even mind the curious glances of strange passers-by as you check out the toys that make you feel nostalgic. And screw those who silently judge you for still believing in fairy tales and happy ever after. They're probably just envious that you could afford to be a child and an adult at the same time.

Thank You, Yesterday

January 1. A new day, and a new year. Before I got out of bed, I pondered what I would want to do first on the first day of the year. I lay on that semi-soft, semi-hard mattress, feeling the cool breeze for quite sometime until I finally figured out that there was only one thing to do. To take a look back at the past year and thank God for the blessings that I've received.

If there was one word to describe the year that's passed, I wouldn't know what it is. Because for me, it would take more than one word to describe the wild ride that was 2009. It had been pretty ironic, and also blissful at some point. It was petty frustrating, but also a lot of fun. Last year wasn't recorded in a journal or a blog, but it was imprinted on my heart. I have run down below five reasons why I loved 2009. Of course there should be more but I guess that would suffice as I can't really put down ALL the reasons why I loved 2009. :)


♥ Last year, I fulfilled a promise. Due to unfortunate events, my older brother hadn't finished his studies. I'm not even quite sure what level he is in college. So the moment that it became clear to me that we were having academic problems for my brother and financial problems for the entire family, I made a vow that I will make my parents proud and finish my undergraduate studies. And on my graduation day, when I saw how happy my parents were, I knew I had fulfilled my promise.


♥ Last year, I was a Yes Man. After being inspired from the movie of the same name, my friends and I decided to become Yes Men. Whenever one of us suggested to do something like play golf, eat halo-halo, or whatever that would come to mind, we would only answer "Yes". It was fun while it lasted. We got to do stuff we didn't usually do and we also allowed ourselves to let go of our worries for some time. It didn't really last long though, since our responsibilities were calling out to us. Most of us were graduating, so school had become so hectic that we could no longer keep up with our Yes Man attitude. I hope we could get back to it again come 2010, though.


♥ Last year, I became a Nurse. If you knew me back in my senior year in high school, you'd know that I didn't want to be a nurse. And if you knew me back when I was a little kid, you'd know that becoming a nurse was never one of my millions of ambitions. Surprisingly enough, though, that's what I have become. I've studied to become one, got a pin to prove I am one, and passed the exams that would allow me to be one. Yes, thanks to God, I am now a nurse even if it wasn't what I've always wanted. Now, the next step is to look for a nursing job. Hehe.

♥ Last year, my friends and I gave back to the community. After our much awaited Christmas Party, my friends and I decided to extend the Christmas spirit to the abandoned children in the Missionaries of the Poor. We fed the lovely little children who had special needs. It was then that I realized how lucky I truly am. It was also then that I realized how stupid and selfish I was to have thought that the world had done me wrong just because of the minor misfortunes that befell upon me, when the children at MOP has had it worse and yet they find it in themselves to be happy with the little things that they have. It was truly one eye-opening experience that I would treasure for the rest of my life. And it was also a very good way to have ended the year.

♥ Last year, I decided to keep on doing the things I love. If you've read my previous entries, you'd know what I'm talking about. In the last quarter of 2009 I became an Indie Blogger (either James or Gwen came up with the nickname) and I got back to my roots and started drawing again. Although I haven't really finished any artwork yet due to my sucky schedule (I hate the night shift 'coz you always feel like there isn't much time!), I never stopped trying. And yes, I will never stop trying for as long as I can. Keep in mind that not everyone knows what would make them happy. So if you're lucky enough to find out what it is that makes you happy, don't let it go. Hold on to it because it just might be what you'd need to keep you going.

Now that 2009 has ended and the future is staring at us right in the face, I can't really say that I'm all excited. Because there's really no telling what may ensue come 2010. Who knows what kind of joy and sorrow we'd encounter this coming year. Well, c'est la vie! I may not know what tomorrow might bring, but I know I've got to say this: Thank you, yesterday.

Confessions of an Indie Blogger

I am but a small boy, struggling to find his place on earth. And in order to do that, I feel like I ought to be me. I ought to be the person who I was meant to be. But in this crazy world of expectations and responsibilities, being myself had to take a backseat.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I will not forget who I am as set out to do what I’m supposed to do. That is why I’ve been looking for a creative outlet – a hole for which my soul can peek through. So that I get a chance to express myself. Be me for a fraction of the time that I am not. Give myself a chance to get out and take a whiff of the cool outside world air. I am not looking for recognition. Well, at least I think I don’t. I just need the chance to be me without anybody judging.

About two years ago, I started out writing again. A hobby that had long went to hibernate ever since I learned of my incompetence in the said art. I started out with a stupid blog about hoping for someone to come along. It was pretty mediocre and short, but it told what I felt. People didn’t believe that I wrote it at first because they didn’t think that it was something that I could do. So once again, I gave it a rest. I thought that maybe writing just wasn’t for me.

But then sometime last year, after densely thinking that I might have a good story in mind, I started to write again. After all, I always dreamed of becoming a bestselling author. So I gave writing a story a try. Needless to say, it didn’t turn out well. At first I thought, maybe I just needed a better story to tell. But after three failed attempts, I knew it just wasn’t meant to be.

It wasn’t until June of this year when I decided to make a fool of myself, yet again, with writing. After I quit my first job, I didn’t feel so good. I felt ambivalent and I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. So I decided to write to help me dissect and analyze why I felt what I felt. Then right after I finished what I wrote, and just before I could try to understand my emotions, the funny feeling of ambivalence was gone. Just like that. And that’s when I realized what writing does to me. It helps me liberate my soul.

And that’s why I write. I’m not very good at it, I know. But I write not for other people’s benefit, but mine. It gives me something to believe in and something to hold on to. I don’t write to be recognized by other people, but for me to recognize myself. So excuse me if my words are too simple or my writing too average. I’m not looking to win a Pulitzer; I’m just looking for me. I needed a creative outlet, and I think I found one in writing.

Aside from my art, this makes me whole. This makes me happy. It allows me to be me. So before you make fun of me or criticize me and my work, let me say this: Please, step aside and give me a chance to be happy.

The Lucky One

One is an odd number. But is it really?

In grade school, we're taught about the two types of numbers: Odd and Even. Even numbers are named the way they are because they come in pairs. If you divide them into two, the numbers would come out evenly. Odd numbers, on the other hand, can't be divided into two evenly. There would always be one that wouldn't have a pair or counterpart. An odd one. Hence the name.

But what's so special about having a pair, anyway? Sure, it gets lonely when you're all on your own, but I don't see why it's odd to be a One. I mean, I'm a One. And I don't see myself as odd. I see myself as special.

The world wants you to believe that you can't live by yourself. That no man is an island. Well, I say that's true. That's what family and friends are for. To keep us company and make us feel safe. They surround us so that we won't be lonely. But the world also wants you to believe that you need to have a pair, a partner in life, to feel complete. That every man is a half of a whole. And to that I say, bullcrap.

Of course, we all want to have our share of a happy ever after with someone special. I know I do. But not everyone will be lucky enough to get it. Not everyone gets a slice of the cake. For some people, its just not gonna happen. Sad? Of course, it is. But it doesn't always have to be. Having a partner is just a minute part of your being, after all. An accessory if you may. Having a pair is not what makes you whole, its love. And if somehow you're not lucky enough to find a special someone, then divert your attention and offer your love to someone who may need it more. Yourself.

People look for partners in life thinking that the other person would complete them. But that's a misconception. People look for partners because they think they couldn't go on living alone. They couldn't picture themselves being happy with themselves. Loving their own imperfections. So they go out to the world, in search of someone who feels the same. Throwing themselves at practically every cute stranger they'd meet hoping he or she is the one. Or maybe even resort to very desperate measures just to find someone to spend the rest of their lives with. Possibly settling for some loser who isn't even worth half the love they're so willing to give out. And the love they could've given to themselves? They hand it over to their "other half" in hopes of having their feelings reciprocated. Believing that this possibly-a-big-mistake relationship would finally make them feel complete.

You see, a partner is not what makes a person complete. It's the love you have inside of you. So what if you're single? Be patient, your time may come sooner than you expect. And if not, well it always pays to have family and friends to keep you company. Never settle for just about anybody who may seem to care but doesn't. Never compromise. You know you deserve better. And if you're one of the "unlucky" ones, well think again. You may be luckier than most. The single old woman with all the cats is happier than the married man with a cheating wife and kids he isn't even sure is his, you know.

Being single doesn't mean you'd end up being unhappy too. Maybe it just isn't meant to be. Or maybe you just haven't met the right one yet. Maybe your love story is still in the works. Just be patient. I'm not gonna claim that I'm an expert at love since I've practically been single all my life. I can, however, say that I'm very good at being single. And right now, you just have to concentrate on the one that needs your love the most. Concentrate on yourself. Don't just lie around and wait for your prince or princess to come along. So that whatever may happen in the end, may he or she show up or not, you'll know you haven't wasted your time and love on something worthless. You'll know you did the right thing.

One may seem like an odd number, but it isn't. It's special. Because although it hopes to find a pair, it can stand on its own. It can rise. It can shine. So all the Ones out there, be strong. Stand firm. Don't ever believe that you're worthless because you don't have pair. You're so much more than just somebody's partner. You are not a fraction of a whole; you are a whole in yourself.

Sure, it takes two to tango. But dancing with yourself isn't so bad.