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Pigil

Di ako makatulog sa kakaisip sa posibilidad ng tayo, pero ano itong kilig na nadarama. Pinipigilan ko bagamat ang istorya natin’y di pa nag-uumpisa. Sana hindi ako mahopia tulad ng iba, dahil pagod na rin ako sa kakahantay, sa wala pala.

TADsana

Gusto kong isipin na TADHANA ang may gawa, ngunit ayaw ko ring isipin na maski ang tadhana’y di aayon sa’ting dalawa.

Hindi ko alam

Namumutawi sa’yong mata ang sakit. Nais kong ibsan ang pait na ‘yong nadarama. Pahintulutan mo akong akayin ka, hilumin ang sugat ng iyong pusong umibig at umasa. Dahil hindi ko gagawin sa’yo ang ginawa niya, hindi ko alam, ngunit gusto kitang alagaan, para bagang ikaw ang pinapangarap ko bago pa kita nakilala.

Maaari ba

Gawin mong madali para sa akin na lapitan at kausapin ka, gagawin ko ring madali para sa’yo na limutin siya. Kay tagal kong hinintay na ika’y makilala, sana tadhana na ang gagawa ng paraan para lubos pa tayong magkakilala.

Neophyte Teacher Turned Writer

After wrestling with the teaching profession for almost ten months, I’ve got wondrous yet bleeding experiences in the academe as college instructor. It may seem a privilege because right after graduating from college I landed into this job, but beyond those classroom lectures, discussions and interaction with students, I felt the uncanny feeling of both fulfillment and pressure. The most difficult thing maybe, is when all my revolutionary ideas in education which I philosophically constructed during college and my list of pathetic loopholes in teaching, were all wallowed into deep-seated array of idealism, and I found myself crippling with the course syllabus trying to follow it because there’s the teacher’s evaluation that hovers surprisingly. But to admit, my carefree mind insisted, I took the risk, at some point I had creative ways in giving lectures or creating quizzes and powerpoints, but my principles of teaching had always been a struggle. I don’t know. What I can only afford to know, is that I have a responsibility, and that responsibility stirred my nerves, to the extent of even recollecting all the maturity I am trying to deal with versus my undergrown attitude.

I committed many failures and mistakes. I was performing with all the rawness, while my overthinking skill killed me from time to time. And a serious introspection emerged, I asked myself whether I love what I am doing, and my introverted self had spoken finally. She doesn’t want any form of attention, she’s always been quirky, non-existent and a humble human being figuring out the word quietly, she’s good at expressing herself in words, but fails to talk impressively because she’s awkward socially, she loves ideas that are intellectually engaging, she has always had the heart to listen and has a soft personality -- and there reality had enduringly commenced: fragile, vulnerable, genuine—contrary to the image she present in the classroom. So I researched thoroughly, and found out that I am an introverted teacher trying to fit in.

And so my prayers were fervent and I tossed any kind of anxiety because it’s not helping me. I was too obsessed trying to be perfect inside the classroom, my egocentric only dwelled on how I was performing, and I realized there are several students who need me more than anything, and teaching doesn’t only entail delivering lectures or imparting knowledge, but teaching is an encounter to students heart-to-heart.

When the second semester is rolling out of the calendar, I was bewildered with the fact that I had learned to love teaching and dreaded with the idea of leaving it. I thought of my students, I thought of Philosophy as a bloodless subject needed to be relived in the perceptions of students, while my mind wanders with other alternatives I have to try in order to survive in this society of commercialism. My life seemed to zip into indecisiveness.

But I always have this eerie feeling of Leibniz notion that everything happens for a reason. I was communicating with my god, my angel, with the spiritual world. Weird I know.

Life is totally enigmatic to be understood, but when we keep on understanding its ways rationally, we can never see what it is trying to teach us, because by virtue of keeping your heart open in comprehending what is incomprehensible, the more reasonable it is not be rational at all times.

And if we believe that the will of God is higher than us, that we humans have our plans but God has His purpose, then everything will definitely become sensible.

I can only attest that a big part of our lives aren’t controllable, surprises are inevitable, and we should accept and react positively to any circumstance thrown to us. Whether we cling to our beliefs or not, we will always be in face with life, as long as we live, ups and downs will repeat ceaselessly.

What profound realization I can give is that learning is constantly slated to us. In any angle we can learn from our experiences, and if it prods us to change for the better then there must be no hesitance. Like when I was forced to teach although how limited my skills are, but eventually I learned how to dance with its rhythm, to become conscious of its flow like a river’s current. We keep on asking for any formula that will bring us success but it’s only “proper reaction and response” that we have to deal. If we never learn from anything we do, that’s the point that we have to ask ourselves whether we’re really living our lives and being conscious of what is happening around, because no person would be void with feelings and thinking as long as he lives.

I found teaching a difficult task, but today I am assured that I’ve learned deep understanding about work. Sometimes we take this job because we don’t have any choice, but what really matters in working is when you are fulfilled and happy with what you do. If I have to address work, it would be a vocation, a subjective undertaking that gives priceless consummation to one’s soul, when you and your dreams are in one, when you and your skills are in unison. It will be worthwhile and meaningful and you won’t think of any day that you are working because it has become both a mission and a vocation you chose. And that certain work, is what I am carrying today. Okay. Wait, what?

Yes. I had found the work proper to me, and I am still learning how to foster and be attuned with my writing skill, for now I am fulfilled and happy with what I am doing.

If you truly believe that everything will work out for you, yes it will, and the best thing is: what is meant for you.

#teacher #USL #writer #pubdiaries #work #God'swill

Sinta, sayang talaga

Kung ako’y duwag, patawad.

Lapitan mo naman ako, at huwag matakot.

Kung alam mo lang, ang tarantang dulot mo

at ligaya sa tuwing ika’y nakikita.

Hanggang ganito na lamang ba?

Sinta, sayang talaga.

#crush #bakit #hopeless romantic

My first Ibanag poem. Hahaha

#Dahon #Leaves #Ibanag #Autumn

Thus, I write.

Love you Lord.

I’m no woman of talk, my silence is my selfdom but my mind ticks like the falls streaming ceaselessly. That is why, I am misconstrued as gawky for the lack of social skills. I’m completely eccentric trying to fit in to the world, but I find solace when I redeem my selfness from the hustling environment, from the “crowd existence” as what Heidegger would exhort “Own your existence!”

The inevitable introversion I bear needed to be buried; suddenly I have to learn communicating with several students every day. I felt burned out, I felt like crippling into my own wounds of making myself naked, naked with my ownself affronting my illusion of becoming the person I am not. And my issue of self-esteem and self-confidence surfaces precipitously. And there were nights I cried, sobbing to heavens like a child chained with confusions.

I can’t pin down myself, might it be I’m developing split personalities? Might it be that I overthink? There were days I love myself, there were days I hate myself.

But everything in between, is a metamorphosis from being naive to being mature.

#self #weird