Back in college, we were asked to turn in an essay on what we dream of achieving. Because my pretension to becoming a writer then was already being severely limited by lack of focus and to a large extent by a paucity of ideas and creative inspiration, I settled for publishing. Ding. I proclaimed I’d be a big time publisher. A Filipino Charles Scribner in search of my own Ernest Hemingway incarnate.
My teacher gave me an A for that presumptuous essay.
God, however, gave me a D-. Of course, you know what usually happens to the best laid plans – God laughs at you and upends the drafting table. I know God might have finally approved of the plan, but my failure was largely because of my lack of focus and other failings. I had designed the blueprint myself. And so it had come to pass.
Instead of graduating from college, I applied for a job. I found one but I was underemployed as a quality inspector in a textile factory somewhere in Rizal. Of course, I went through pushing carts full of bobbins of yarns to spinners. I was fairly young, but it was backbreaking. An opening in the quality control staff later made my life easier. From peon I became a pencil pusher, consolidating inspection reports and doing other routine work you can do on auto-pilot. The greatest challenge to my creative aspirations was to cook up excuse letters for my co-workers who gallivanted from work. It’s that and how to squeeze my minimum wage so after I fed myself I’d still have some money for books.
Cut to present time. I’m managing a small computer retail store. At night I have been blogging. That’s publishing still, right? Well, what do you know. May be this is my second chance. With this publishing platform, I have the world for an audience. Of course, the audience is preoccupied elsewhere. Understandably so, I have not written anything for them to take notice.
It doesn’t daunt me a bit. Why should I expect the world to pay heed? I did my inquiries and I found out my best friends had yet to check up on my blog. None among my family members had visited me, too. Boo-hoo.
Maybe that’s for the best. That will give me enough elbow room on this blog. “Who do you think you are – mentioning in your blog your Ate R’s to-die-for recipe for carbonara. You perhaps think that trumps my exotic frog recipes?” Or something of this sort.
Even the household puppy named Ditton – of askal lineage (local variety dog) – reserves barking and raising an awful racket every time I sit down to blog. It doesn’t help that children carolers drive Ditton to a fit. If I skip blogging on some days, it can very well be because of him. Clearly, he’s not a cute, dainty little thing that blogging big time eventually bought. But he’s become a metaphor for everything that taunts me to quit. It’s just a blog after all. An excuse that will soon become a full treatise why one stops pursuing a dream, if I don’t pay attention to these things.
Nice thing though – it has been only 17 days of blogging. I should not let up and lose focus.
If only for the reason that this blog can keep me sane. That’s a big thing for me. Honest writing can make a person fully conscious of life’s journey, it’s challenges and triumphs and even losses. That’s a major help, whatever job one may have in this world.
At least I have here a tool to help me evolve as better person. By looking inward, by self-examination, and by seeing all this personal growth crystallized in writing. And if I am lucky through your companionship and conversations.
Your thoughts? Any dreams from earlier life you have rescued from the garbage bin? Are you working on it too?If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!