Chryss is a wannabe writer who blogs about her life because she likes to think that people actually care. She likes Kpop, literature, and mochi. She is currently a BA Creative Writing student at UP-Diliman. Also, cute socks are important ◕‿◕
These past few weeks, I’ve been losing my faith in Poetry. Or rather, I’ve been losing faith in my ability to write good poetry. There is a massive difference to how I understood Poetry before I enrolled in my Comparative Literature and Creative Writing classes and how I understand it now. Back then, I had the naive preconception that it’s all just about emotion and working around a concept and playing with images. I kind of want to kick myself for thinking that it was going to be easy and that I was not going to have any trouble with it. I was wrong and stupid for thinking so because as the weeks and sessions passed by, little by little I started realizing that it’s actually the most complex of all the literary genres. I started having an identity crisis, started looking at all my past poems with disgust, started questioning my skills and lack thereof. In other words, I started having this constant cloud of fear hovering above my head because I was burdened with the thought that I no longer have what it takes to be a poet.
That little cloud of self-doubt didn’t go away even as I kept on writing poems to submit for my CW100 class. Each time I sent an email to my professor with a poem attached, I would get mini anxiety attacks that lasted for no longer than 5 minutes but even with their short duration, they were very painful and made me feel very small. I deemed my poems unworthy of being read by my professor, especially when she’s one of the best poets in the country right now. I felt like she would be utterly turned off by my weak attempts and that one day, she’d tell me to focus on another genre because Poetry’s not just for me.
But today, the universe proved me wrong. Today, the universe believed in me. Or rather -- today, Ma’am Isabel Mooney [my professor’s name sounds like a dream] told me that out of all the students in her class, I have the most potential in Poetry if I just persevere. I think my stomach jumped a little bit when I heard her say my name and it felt uncomfortable being the center of my classmates’ attention but I was filled with overwhelming joy I couldn’t even tell myself to breathe properly. It was a surreal moment, to be reminded of my potential when I was on the brink of giving up, when I thought of myself as the worst.
I guess sometimes, the universe also decides to root for us. I hope I don’t disappoint.
I’m taking my sweet precious time with the 2nd part of 083015 for personal reasons (laziness to edit photos, most likely) so if you don’t mind, I’ll grace you with my word vomit before I post 083015′s continuation. Also, I’m swamped with craft essays and poetry submissions but I somehow still have the time and the energy to type all of these (somewhat useless and pointless) thoughts down. I really don’t understand my work ethic sometimes, if I even have one to begin with.
How come the dorm staff always manages to turn off the water system just seconds before I have to brush my teeth and wash my face? I mean okay I know I usually attend to my personal hygiene after 2am but still!! Rude!!!
Sometimes when I arrive back to the dorm, I meet our hallway cat in the basement. It's the same cat who always lingers outside our door, waiting for me to feed it with scraps. When I get to the foot of the stairs that would lead me to our hallway, our eyes meet and suddenly there's a common understanding between the two of us -- we're both challenging each other to a race. Around 5 to 7 seconds later, I find myself the winner at the top of the stairs and I stare down triumphantly at the cat who lags behind. Silly cat thinking it can beat the sillier hooman. Maybe in your next nine lives, kitty.
I want to name the cat but naming it would indicate ownership and I do not want to own the cat because owning the cat would mean getting emotionally attached to the cat and getting emotionally attached to the cat would mean heartbreak at the end of the school year if I somehow don't get accepted into the dorm for another two semesters. I will die inside.
I'm back to my childhood favorite -- anime!! I'm currently watching Owari no Seraph and it is GLORIOUS. I'm already a big fan of Haikyuu but for the longest time, it was the only show I actually took time to watch. I never really stopped being an anime enthusiast but you can say it died down a bit during my earlier teenage years, especially when I became so emotionally invested into Korean pop and I spent more time reading books instead of the updated chapters of the latest shoujo manga. This sudden influx of anime nostalgia was brought about by my decision around 2 weeks ago to re-watch Gakuen Alice, my favorite anime show back when I was 7 to 8 years old. I think it's safe to say that it rekindled a flame in me and now I'm back to marathon-ing anime shows and making a list of all the wonderful shows/manga that I've missed throughout the years. I think somewhere out there, 9-year old Chryss is whooping for joy.
My roommates are so amazed that I can write an endless amount of papers and critical essays and analyses on poems, short stories, and articles but what they don't know is that I'm more amazed at them for being so good at all the things I'm bad at. A roommate of mine majors in Chemical Engineering, arguably one of the hardest courses in this university, and I find it absolutely incredible how she manages to memorize all those formulas and solve all those Chemistry sets. Another roommate of mine majors in Business Administration and just thinking about all the business presentations they report on every week plus the tedious Accouting subjects she has make me shudder. But I guess it's all a matter of perspective, really. We're all good and we're all passionate about different things and sometimes we never really stop and think about how great we're doing with our own intellect and with our own skills. Each time a Science/Engineering major asks me what my course is and when I tell them it's Creative Writing, they always have this awed expression on their faces and they usually come with a "Wow, I can never write." I always reply back with, "Well, I suck at Math." and then we usually just laugh it off and there's a common understanding that no one's better than the other. I like that. I like that better than being defensive about how your course is more superior because it contributes more to society. We ALL contribute to society, in one way or another. There really is no reason to be defensive if you know in your heart that you're capable and just as competent. No one's going to survive without literature and the arts and I'm pretty damn sure we'd all be dead right now if it weren't for technology and the sciences. Find the balance among all of them. Contrary to what some people like to believe ... no one's on top. We all need each other.
I think also one of the main reasons why I decided to blog again is that I just realized I'm in UP-Diliman. I'm in UP-Diliman. I'm in freaking UP-Diliman, my dream school since 5th grade, and I dare not blog about it?? Sixteen-year old Chryss who cried over the UPCAT would be furious.
Also, this is a great way to keep up with the things going around in my life. It's a nice kind of therapy as well, I love the feeling of releasing and sharing what I go through each day. Through blogging, I'm also constantly being reminded to be thankful for everything that's happening in my life, both the good and the bad. I don't know about others but the one thing I've always loved about blogging is that it's an enlightening experience. In time, you find out more and more things about yourself, the people you surround yourself with, and the world in general.
And I won't be ashamed to admit that blogging has always been and remains as my guilty pleasure. There's just something really wonderful about being able to write without thinking about rules and trying to impress or please professors. I've been writing so much -- too much -- these past few months but I never really felt like I was writing for myself. And I know that if I want to be a successful writer, I need to be able to write for others and forget about myself and my selfish wants but a girl can only suppress so much, you know? There's always a nagging feeling somewhere deep in my throat that I can't really say out loud and I just wish to write about it instead. That's blogging for me -- writing into words what I can never say in real life. And it has always worked to my advantage. I don't think I ever want to stop.
083015: Lumad Mini Rally & Fridate with Rheeca (part 1 of 2)
Last Friday, I had one of my best days yet here in Metro Manila. During Thursday night, my Art Studies professor had sent me an email saying that we were going to be joining a mini rally with the Lumad children, the UP Pep Squad, and the Men’s Football team before the start of the art workshop that the Art Studies Department had prepared for the Lumad kids. I’d been waiting all week to be able to interact with the Lumad but never really had the chance because my schedule last week was kind of crazy, so I was incredibly grateful that the opportunity presented itself to me. I had been part of the crowd who welcomed them to the campus last October 26 but after that, I wasn’t able to visit the Kampuhan or join the cultural festivals and the candle-lighting ceremonies.
The following Friday morning, we all met up at the Lumad Kampuhan where we had an educational discussion with several volunteers and delegates. We also got to talk to some of the Lumad (children and adults alike) and asked them how they were doing and their future plans. Most of the children were shy and reserved but there were a select few who were very open and energetic despite the language barrier. By 9:25am, everyone was ready to go so we (the Art Stud students, the members of the pep squad plus the football team, and the Lumad kids) all lined up in 5 rows and we marched from the Lumad Kampuhan to Vargas Museum under the morning sun, holding up banners and slogans of protest against the ongoing injustice that the Lumad are suffering through. (If you want to know more about this social issue, please click here. It’s great to be informed and to join their cause for justice!)
We were peaceful during the mini rally, only holding up our banners and slogans without chanting. Although I still did chant under my breath my favorite lines: “Libro, hindi bala! Edukasyon, hindi giyera!” I love those lines so much to be honest, they give me goosebumps.
After the mini rally, I had to rush to my next class (Poetry, which is scheduled at 10am every WF) and since it was already around 15 minutes after 10, I was practically running from the Vargas Museum to Palma Hall. I reached the classroom panting heavily and looking like a mess, only to find it empty. Instantly knowing that something was up, I checked my mobile phone and found out that I had an unread message from Rheeca. She texted me saying that Sir Manalo had emailed our class about an hour ago that he was “Sorry. I’m too sick to come to class today.” I instantly breathed out a huge sigh of relief because I was scheduled to report on Yehuda Amichai’s poem “A Pity, We Were Such a Good Invention.” The downside of my report being moved AGAIN (I was supposed to report last Wednesday but we ran out of time) is that my nerves continue to be on edge because I’m always incredibly nervous for class reportings. Also, I have wasted two of my nicest black shirts that I specifically wear during times when I need to report in front of people. Go figure.
Because my last class for the day got cancelled, I had a ridiculous amount of free time ahead of me. I didn’t want to go back to my dorm because I knew if I did, I would just end up spending 5 hours sleeping and then hating myself upon waking up. That has happened a lot of times already in the past and let’s just say that those were the times that I wanted to hit myself really hard with a frying pan. Sleeping for 5 hours straight during the day might seem like a good idea in theory but take it from me, it doesn’t sound as good of an idea as it does when you’ve actually been through it multiple times. You just end up wanting to bury yourself deep in your blankets and die.
But I’m rambling again, aren’t I? I think I’ve had too many things to say for this post already and I haven’t even finished telling you guys about half of how my day went so I’m going to continue this post as soon as I finish this paper I’m writing for Fil40 … which might be tomorrow … or the day after that … or the day after that. But rest assured, I will try to update when my mind’s a bit more free from all the information I fill it with. But who am I kidding, this little brain of mine is always full. There’s just so much to take in and not enough space for me to accommodate all of it, if you get what I mean.
Nevertheless, I promise that the continuation of this post will be up soon. I hope.
My dog died today. After I received the news from my mother, I was instantly consumed by an overwhelming kind of sadness that I couldn't explain. I received the message smack dab in the middle of the Ceramics Display in the Ayala Museum and I had to find a nearby bench so that I could sit down, gather my feelings, and make sense of what just happened. A few of my classmates threw me questioning glances, probably wondering as to why I separated myself from the group, but I gave them a little wave to tell them that I was okay.
But I was not okay. I was far from okay. You might say that I was overreacting but that only applies to people who don't understand what it feels like to not be there when the buddy who made me feel less lonely during the long summers when I was all alone cooped up in the house has already passed away. You don't know what it feels like to go back to a house knowing that no one's going to lick my knees anymore and that I'll have no warm belly to rub my feet on whenever I'm reading books or watching movies on the front porch. You don't know what it feels like to go back home and not have that big glob of dog saliva greet me and it's disgusting but I love it. You don't know what it feels like to have to go through something that almost drove me to the brink of desperation until I felt like I just wanted to die and to have those big bright eyes and wagging tail tell me that everything's going to be fine if I just worry a little less and pat him on the head instead. You don't know what it feels like to grow up with a buddy who took naps with me on the floor and always offered good company and a warm belly to rub and rich golden fur to run my hands through whenever I felt stressed. You don't know what it feels like so you're not allowed to tell me that I'm overreacting.
For a very long time, my dog was my salvation and my constant companion. In a way, we grew up together. I spent 12 years of my existence loving him and for him to pass away when I'm in Manila and struggling and still wanting to break down -- it's pretty fucking hard. Just a few days ago, I was already hyping myself up and getting excited because 2 weeks from now, I'm flying home. He was one of the main reasons as to why I have these sudden bursts of homesickness but I guess he couldn't wait long enough to welcome me back home. I feel like there's a big hole somewhere in my chest right now and I don't know how to fill it up without thinking of him and breaking down.
My dog is just a memory now. The last time I got to rub his belly was 3 months ago. Right now, I'm 3 months too late to say goodbye.
Kindly hug your pet for me. I just lost a best buddy.
So I haven’t actually heard Adele’s new song in its entirety yet but I know the first line goes like that ... or does it. Anyway, I’m sure it’s a wonderful song but that’s not really important to me right now because I am so ecstatic I feel like magic because I’m going to start blogging about my life again! Hooray!! Life has been happening to me!!!
Okay so maybe you could care less about what’s happening with my life but there was a time circa 2011-2014 when I had a blogspot and updated it twice or three times a week. I enjoyed those years to be honest, experiencing new things and meeting new people and sharing them with my readers. I learned a lot about the world and about myself through blogging and I want that again. I feel like I’m never really myself when I’m not sharing my thoughts and experiences with the world. Maybe that’s one of the main reasons why I want to be a writer. And heck, I need to put this BA Creative Writing degree to use and even though my professors might fail me in my classes for wanting to write about myself ... then I just have to make sure they never find this blog LOL
A loooooot like a A WHOLE LOT of things have happened to me since I deleted my blogspot and I could write a 5k-words blog post about everything that’s happened to me and the person I’ve become in the span of a year but I feel like that would be totally unnecessary and going against the main purpose as to why I made this blog. I want my readers to forget about the old Chryss and embrace the new version of me, this version that I’m trying to be comfortable with against all odds. This is a new start, a fresh page, a blank canvas yada yada all that drama and this blog is going to be more personal in the way that I’m going to treat it like a diary. I’ll try to blog about what’s been happening with my life as often as my school workload and schedule will let me and also try to insert a few thoughts about Korean pop culture when I’m in the mood. Kind of like how my blogspot operated except right now, it’s going to be reinvented. I’m also hoping that my posts will be far more mature because I still cringe from time to time whenever I remember all the embarrassing posts from 2 years ago.
What triggered this? Well, that’s interesting. I honestly think that this great great absolutely wonderful day triggered it. So many things happened today and I’m so grateful for the people who made me happy today that I realized I want to blog about them and tell the world how much I adore them and life in general. Life is so great, it deserves to be shared if you get what I mean. And I’m a person who loves to tell stories, I JUST CAN’T SHUT UP. Seriously. There are always so many things and people in my mind that I’m going to go crazy if they stay cooped up inside my nutshell.
My first actual blog post will be up soon. I hope you’re looking forward to it! If you’re reading this right now, I dearly hope you’ll visit this blog often.
