[I wasn’t really enthralled after asked to write. I’ve convinced myself for a while now that I write at elementary level and that ranting and being hypocritical are two things I delve in all my crappy work; thus, unfit for public reading.
However, after battling with my awful self, emerged the triumphant urge to get on with favors, detached of the perfunctory obligations in friendship.
And so, in good deal of pleasure and sincerest honor, I humbly share this collection of clichés and probably ponderous thoughts for my fellow hitchhikers in the lifetime journey missioned on untangling strings. Also, I ask you to endure (whatever understanding of it you prefer), just endure.]
Like a child’s gusto for unlimited fulfillment of his wants, is an adult’s desire to immerse into the realization of his dreams. Still, like a child being disciplined, is an adult recognizing instability of the earth treaded to, if not elusive, impossibly attainable in this lifetime goals.
Pero sa dami ng nakikisawsaw sa buhay ko hindi ko na alam kung ano ang gusto ko.
As a jolly kid who knew no other game but fun, my loving mother not only structured the scaffold but carried out all the needed work. The mere stroking of my crayons from one point to another point in the diameter of an illustrated apple was my mom’s effortless task. I only had to hold on to the crayon and there would be her calloused hand guiding my pudgy little fingers ace the coloring assignment. Even when I was old enough to play mini-teacher in fourth grade Social Science, mother outlined my topic and crafted my instructional materials. She obliged me to demonstrate mock reporting, listening proudly to her masterpiece as Pygmalion awing in his Galatea.
My young life was as grand as that of any oligarch in this country. I just had to exist and everything falls into place.
On the other hand, high school transpired too swiftly I didn’t notice I underwent it. I remember only a couple of bittersweet memories. One is I went abroad, the other is I was heartbroken. Definitely, mother took leaps from one summit to another to attain the first memory. The latter was out of my doing, really something I claim to own.
Ownership, in my case, is always halved in authority. I’d always pair up with mother. Even the basest of all possessions: decision, has always been a conjugal property. This ruled in my unexciting tertiary education, too. Sooner, it’ll raze my graduate studies, and more; in a month or two, I will carry out her legacy to our family career. As an apparent-heiress to her prestige, mother assures me of a warm welcome in the teaching academe. She has been laying out my red carpet and plucking out rose petals to shower me in my grand entrance. All I had to do is to exist.
Indeed, a mother’s generosity has an unimaginable extent, almost indefinite. I am perpetually grateful for such comfort.
At one point, however, the transition from childhood to adulthood commences with the need of independence, of creating individuality.
Pero sa dami ng nakikisawsaw sa buhay ko hindi ko na alam kung ano ang gusto ko.
However, after battling with my awful self, emerged the triumphant urge to get on with favors, detached of the perfunctory obligations in friendship.
And so, in good deal of pleasure and sincerest honor, I humbly share this collection of clichés and probably ponderous thoughts for my fellow hitchhikers in the lifetime journey missioned on untangling strings. Also, I ask you to endure (whatever understanding of it you prefer), just endure.]
Like a child’s gusto for unlimited fulfillment of his wants, is an adult’s desire to immerse into the realization of his dreams. Still, like a child being disciplined, is an adult recognizing instability of the earth treaded to, if not elusive, impossibly attainable in this lifetime goals.
Pero sa dami ng nakikisawsaw sa buhay ko hindi ko na alam kung ano ang gusto ko.
As a jolly kid who knew no other game but fun, my loving mother not only structured the scaffold but carried out all the needed work. The mere stroking of my crayons from one point to another point in the diameter of an illustrated apple was my mom’s effortless task. I only had to hold on to the crayon and there would be her calloused hand guiding my pudgy little fingers ace the coloring assignment. Even when I was old enough to play mini-teacher in fourth grade Social Science, mother outlined my topic and crafted my instructional materials. She obliged me to demonstrate mock reporting, listening proudly to her masterpiece as Pygmalion awing in his Galatea.
My young life was as grand as that of any oligarch in this country. I just had to exist and everything falls into place.
On the other hand, high school transpired too swiftly I didn’t notice I underwent it. I remember only a couple of bittersweet memories. One is I went abroad, the other is I was heartbroken. Definitely, mother took leaps from one summit to another to attain the first memory. The latter was out of my doing, really something I claim to own.
Ownership, in my case, is always halved in authority. I’d always pair up with mother. Even the basest of all possessions: decision, has always been a conjugal property. This ruled in my unexciting tertiary education, too. Sooner, it’ll raze my graduate studies, and more; in a month or two, I will carry out her legacy to our family career. As an apparent-heiress to her prestige, mother assures me of a warm welcome in the teaching academe. She has been laying out my red carpet and plucking out rose petals to shower me in my grand entrance. All I had to do is to exist.
Indeed, a mother’s generosity has an unimaginable extent, almost indefinite. I am perpetually grateful for such comfort.
At one point, however, the transition from childhood to adulthood commences with the need of independence, of creating individuality.
Pero sa dami ng nakikisawsaw sa buhay ko hindi ko na alam kung ano ang gusto ko.