Excerpt of Life: Beauty in the Pen

My first love had always been writing. Many would’ve thought otherwise–I am first and foremost a singer, but I fell in love with the art of the pen.

What is there in the written work?

Fables and Legends, Cultures and Histories — these all have owed the pen.

And I have fallen in-love with such–and the art of speech and communication among all languages and cultures, even the sign language. This vastness, the great wisdom of humanity, though much incomparable to God’s, is proof also of His greatness, His perfect wisdom, His eternal power.

And so I learned… to write and to speak. I attained skill with earnest ambition and an eye for the art of speech and words. As time passed, I progressed. They say if you love something, it wouldn’t be difficult to do.

Many people can write, professionally speaking. But not all people love to write.

I prefer to write because, despite my capabilities with the languages I speak, and my manner of speech, I’m not good with public speaking. When people demand a message of substance, unlike with declamations or short interviews, I can’t seem to bring myself to catch the audience’s attention unlike the way I would be able to if I wrote it down.

During my years as a college freshman, I had a professor (she taught English), who, in her class while we were to simply introduce ourselves one by one, asked me why I had chosen to write down the words I was going to say. I didn’t have an answer for her–surprisingly to me even, it was because I was confused.

Ms. Sayoc, as she was called, asked me in a way that was neither demeaning nor provocative, but rather in a manner that suggested she saw potential in me. I say this neither because of overconfidence in my own capabilities nor because it was her verbalized viewpoint. It was just so discernable back then.

Needless to say, the question was “why?”

I am in the least bit concerned over how my words will hurt people, as long as they are based on absolute proven facts or are my general and unwavering opinion clearly-stated and intended as. But I have always experienced stage jitters. I used to think I had stage fright, but that is different from what I call “stage jitters.” I’m never afraid to stand on stage, but I find it difficult to catch the audience’s attention and later feel shaky and withdrawn as though I am artificial intelligence, intending only to convey the essence of the message but to disregard its comprehension or recall by the listeners. Yet that is my goal, whether I write my speech and read, or write and aim to publish, I desire to be understood.

So I am pulled toward this inevitable path, not because I want to be withdrawn, but because, I think, I am more comfortable and assured of being able to express myself clearly through the written. I have no problems chatting, or engaging into online conversations via typing. It’s just very different.

I do see writing as my stepping stone to be able to one day weild a microphone (to speak) comfortably. But right now, I will enjoy every bit of this art because it also enchants me.

Writers are like the Bass of the Musical Band. Their contributions are enormous–vital to accentuate the guitar, essential to the emphasis of the main concept, but they’d stay on the sidelines, as such less popular than the guitarist. Writers, their words remain long after they’re dead–they speak to people through what they’ve written even though sometimes their readers may no longer know them–the same way we are able to listen to dead singers through their recorded music.

I’m perceive my professional career would one day require me to speak to many. And when that day comes, I do wish that all my experiences, both as a nurse and writer, and Godwilling someday as an educator, would serve me to be able to speak my mind in the best possible way to not just convey my message clearly but to be able to inspire my listeners as my written words had already been able to do so as early as during my high school days.

And when I retire from my nursing career, I would like to write and continue to write. Wherefore there is beauty in writing and manner of speech, and art in ideation, but most importantly, there is a God that giveth all things, all talents and skill, that were meant for service unto Him who is most generous.

And so fables and legends, and cultures and histories, they owe God–we owe God.

Is there evil that result in this art? –in our long history of communication as a society? The evil results thereof, in other words erotica, blasphemy, trash talks–yes they are but the result of this long history of speech–but just remember, in the same way people blame God for the cruelty that occur to them in this world, in this life, we can never have the good without the bad. There are circumstances for everything. There is beauty in humanity and there is also evil. It is inevitable because we live in such a world.

But the beauty in things make the changes and the results. We are not here to comment and be mere observers, but to be partakers, so that this society will grow and the aspects of our growth will be for the better and not for the worse.

Such is the same in the arts, and among those, the art of communication.

I am but a writer, but I seek to utilize this art for the beauty that it possess, for the contribution it has brought and may continue to bring to humanity.

Here I write with the Art in me, that my colors may reach out unto both stars and moons, unto both those who shine those who do not. But because this art is not of my wisdom but God’s, I glorify and thank Him for this gift.

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Updated: 5 January 2016


Blog Entry: Jun 20, 2014


I’m not an everyday blogger, but from now on I think I’ll try to blog as often as I can.

Last month, I got braces put in. Mom decided as soon as my sister got hers. There was discount so despite being hesitant at first, I went. (Hey, I’m 21 years old and my teeth are already aligned, except for one out-of-line upper incisor.

So here are my teeth today after the first dental session after getting them put in. I got the colors changed too. I had them in pink last month. I decided to go for “sky blue” today.


Okay, so I didn’t get a good shot, but that’s all you’ll be seeing. I’m to shy to show the rest of my face.


Crazy day.

Been back and forth from Niog. Also, I’ve gotten time out to have ID pictures taken (for resumes, certifications and other license).

Had plans today for 3pm, but I had to cancel due to a previous engagement. Though I hope the people involved never need to see this blog entry or website.

I checked out a few facebook messages from the “others” category. I feel so flattered. Haha. Inevitably, this God-given talent of mine with words (which is in fact, first and foremost, not mine but God’s) had in fact been appreciated across different areas of social media. That’s all I’m going say, but I’m probably going to post excerpts of those so-called comments somewhere, as blog topic themes preferably.

I did spend yesterday and last night at the dormitory, which I will have so-called for purpose of this blog site and posts. I have a contract with the poace for about 6 months though I initially planned to just stay there for the duration of my IVT seminar/training. But my mom reconsidered otherwise, so from now on I have two homes. And I’ll be utilizing the place as much as I can, and renew for as long as I need.

Anyways, I came straight from the dormitory to the dentist where I got my braces fixed.

My point simply being I’m tired.

Thanks for reading friends. Till next time.

10:00pm —– end of entry.

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Excerpts of Life: Another First

Hi. Today, I want to talk about Love.

A lot of people claim to have fallen in-love. There are many ways to address the situation. But before we take to addressing, let us reconsider that there are but many ways to look at it.

Eros is a feeling unlike any other. Well, to be frank, every kind of feeling is unlike any other–which is why they’re named, described, and even ranked.

I kind of hate falling in-love. Why? Well, it gets frustrating sometimes.

However I think about it, even though I can’t say for sure because I’m just a plain random girl in the NBSB category, this emotion is just so temporary. Its vast futility cannot address the incomprehensible way this strikes straight into the heart.

Women must all be the same, right? But I think not. My mother, unlike me, wasn’t a hopeless romantic. My younger sister takes after her. But I obligingly fall for the clamor and perdition that is falling in-love. I hate it.

Sure, people get crushes here and there often or sometimes or never. But it’s not the same way when you fall in-love.

I could say I’ve got a crush on a guy one day, but I’d probably only actually “fall” (or more accurately put, infatuate) by the 6th week of seeing him everyday.

I find falling in-love different. It’s that feeling you get when you develop a liking towards someone you wouldn’t (or used to not) owe a smile or a happy mood. It’s when you meet a friend after a long time and then get attached, or it could also be when you’d actually get along with that person you’ve had a crush on, or that has a crush on you.

I was in senior high when someone asked me,
“Reese, what would you do if he (my crush) actually asked you out?”
And I was like, “Even if he sincerely liked me, I wouldn’t date him.”
Why not? Because, boys are so superficial. They feed on egotism (and food, granted), and they’re spirits wane after they’ve fully 100% got you. That’s why you shouldn’t give yourself whole. That’s why Sherry Argrov is such a good researcher and book author. But you don’t really need a book to tell you that you’re also logically not supposed to date guys who don’t have a stable life and still has to prove himself to his parents, let alone someone you might out-grow (in height too) in the future. It’s insane.

I have a best friend who, you could say, is the exact opposite of me–we didn’t used to be so different. But we parted in high school, and for most of her life I couldn’t be an influence. Neither her to me. She’s probably been in more than a few relationships, and her motto in love is ‘to give everything so that in the end if it doesn’t work out between the two of you, it’s to his conscience not yours’ which is upsetting because that’s like saying “consider all fruits edible, and if in case one of them is toxic or poisonous, don’t regret it because it’s the fruit’s fault not yours.” I just was never able to tell her that opinion of mine. Even though how deep our conversations may seem, or how close we are when we bond despite how long we’ve been apart, I just can’t ever let myself express such a thing demeaning her in a personal way.

I have another best friend, she’s exactly like me, I think. The reason I say “I think” is because, like me, she’s usually hard to read. We don’t bond by food but by communication. And (but this I think is purely my doing), our communication lately usually centers around relationships as well. I think she’s a hopeless romantic. She’s in-love with a guy and she thinks the guy likes her back to be honest. At first, when she told me about him, it seemed so. Then I got to meet him and became really good friends with the guy she liked–he’s really just a gentleman to everyone. I experienced it and almost fell for him. But then I’m reminded that he’s younger than me, a few months older than my best friend though. I feel bad for her, I haven’t told her my ‘findings’ as of yet.

I am a hopeless romantic. But I see things the way it is and where it goes, and deny myself the privilege of accepting “developed” feelings. Why? Well, firstly because it’s unreasonable, second, because it’s selfish, third, I don’t think I deserve it, last but not least, because it’s futile.

My words are not desirable in the least, and you could say I’m only saying this because I’m sore.

All of a sudden, I’m speechless as I type. Because, other than the fact that I’m right, the other fact is that, yes, I am sore.

Who am I to say I wouldn’t want it–the bliss,  the attention–that sensation of actually being liked, or better yet, liked back by someone? In more ways than one, you could say it’s a vital phase in a woman’s life.

But the heart is merciless as it is deceitful, and I wish not anyone that fate. The heart cannot seem to be tamed in this aspect.

Other girls would go, “What must I do to make you love me?” On the otherhand, I am concerned with, “How should I get rid of this futility?” It’s an open furnace, anyone can get scorched. Therefore there should be water enough to kill it.

I’m not one to talk because I’ve been jealous, had my fits of self-pity, and nonsense crying myself to sleep. But these things kind of made me learn, and kind of wanted to make me learn more… about this mystery of man–why and how eros had developed in the history of humanity.

And I’m here typing this blog as the hours go by. Where I sit, I am waiting for company. And among the fervent and beloved company that I await is that one person–a someone I fell for, but didn’t mean to. He would be a first of many. Like the different types of crushes I had in the past, there will come to put kindle to the furnace again and light.. because I know it. And when those times pass, I will let my tears fall just like I did with every other that I thought could be different. But today, I will act like I’ve always been before the kindle was set, before the furnace alit. Today, despite that I have reached the climax of it all, I will pretend it ceases to exist, my heart knowing, one day it too will end.

It’s not that I don’t believe in love–I do. But seemingly, those things are not yet meant for me, and if it will never be meant for me then it’s probably for the best. I just hope and pray to God that when my prime has passed me by and I conclude that I will never abide with the eros that I long, I will be able to stand with pride knowing no regrets, being the strong independent figure of a woman I wanted to be without if it.

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Blog Entry: Jun 18, 2014


It rains.

And upon this downpour I feel suddenly poetic.

There are many different things I can be preoccupied and worried about, but right now I feel somewhat light and in-love.

There was an old woman I knew not who planned to pay for her tricycle ride in centavos today.

I was late to my previous engagement but left earlier than the rest.

I’m starving.

I think I want potatoes.

Mom’s gonna kill me.

Maybe there are some things I’m definitely doing wrong, but I am torn by the uplifting feeling that, in the same manner, is also a time-consuming preoccupation needed to be addressed.

I’m tired watching all those episodes in one go last night.

Ahhh. I think I made a mistake coming here.
There is no practice, and as always, everyone is gonna show up late. I’m fed up with this.

Ah but I like that they follow a mañana habit, I just wished they didn’t go overboard!!!

So here I am sitting at a space which is not my own, thinking of things that I could have avoided thinking like:

“I wonder if he’ll be the next to come through those doors” and
“How am I going to keep the ends of my lips from lifting as high as my ears when I see him?”
“Should I create another blog and make sure none of this gets out just in case?”
“Too late, except for the internet connection, this things going up the web the next time we’re connected.”
“Why am I so random?”
“My eyes hurt.”
“I shouldn’t have come.”
“No, literally, I shouldn’t have come.”


That’s it, I’m going to sleep for a while. If I wake up and no one else have come, I’m leaving (and finding a good internet connection so this can go up the web).

4:17 – as soon as I wrote that last one down, another one entered. So I’m trapped to not leave until my responsibilities are over.

What responsibilities? These are kids I’m hanging out with. KIDS! With sometimes a more slightly mature outlook on life than I do.

This is a blog so I can type whatever!

I won’t deny it, being around them makes me insecure for no reason, it’s like the feeling I get when I don’t belong here.

To be honest, there was just this strange obligatory feeling that pushed me to come here. While waiting for the cab I was all “What the heck am I doing?!” Seriously. So, yeah, what the heck am I doing here.

Let me explain, I’m part of a choir and it’s been about 2 weeks since I’ve functioned as such and I kind of missed it. But I was hoping I didn’t miss it enough to do the regretable.

If they only knew the reason I keep typing in this tablet that I feel the most awkward right now.

I just got a text message. I got an interesting phonecall this morning too.

Okay. I have to put on my nurse attitude because I might just get a job at Jose Reyes! (No way!)

Let me put this tablet away for a while to reply and get ready for practice and stuff (or skeddadle out without people seeing me).

It’s late. The text has ended.

I’m in the midst of a few beloved friends, siblings be they called.

I’m happy. Hahaha.
I’m happy in the company of friends.

Despite the rain, despite the extended engagement.

Ah, but the rain, it no longer pours.

There are many about us with personal preoccupations,
But we are amongst them and listening to a dear one’s plea.

Not going into details about that.

I guess I didn’t chicken out of here when I left this post.

Ah but no, I had not sight nor sound of that one.

Try as I may, I’ll only sound more riddlish concealing something that I’m confoicted about letting out.

Anyways, I’m listening to the plea. This matter doesn’t concern you, my anonymous readers, but it will soon me.

Frail. I acknowledge this of just reason. I spoke too soon.
I am weak.

But God made me happy and makes me happy everyday. I thank Him.

This truly is a randomly written random blog. But alas here, it is exactly how I envisioned, exactly how I will.

Let me tell you something:

At one point in my life, my goal was to be Happy.

As I grew older, I knew more and wished for Beauty.

From that point I moved to wanting Power,

Then I wished for Wisdom,

One that could, I sought, rival even God’s.

But it was futile, I learned,

So I wished for love.

But now that too is,

And so I wished for a good reputation,

One I would be remembered for after my death.

But that too was for naught.

How would I benefit in the end.

So then I wished for money,

Because I guess that’s what bought happiness.

But in the end, my heart persuaded:

I just want to be happy.

9:51pm — Blog end.

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