of how we came to be
The intention of publishing personal sentiments online served as a bright idea for me again the summer before my Junior year in high school began. It had been three years since I once more welcomed the thought of it. I was extremely young and angry when I began doing this, and the experience was overwhelming – much more, harrowing for me. I am what Francisco Balagtas may call a “Sihesmundo”, constantly changing whatever I had written to “make them sound better” despite it already being impeccable. I was a perfectionist who strove on the unnecessary aversion of deletion and correction. I, of course, end up spoiling the work. I tended to keep my blogs private and alienated from the eyes of personal friends. I was anxious with the fact that I ramble too much in my entries, which often leads to petty misconceptions. As it also is a great way to pass time and rejuvenate my thoughts, blogging is also time-consuming. I never really had anything interesting to write about except anger and discontent over the smallest things. I never thought I would blog again, until last year.
In the summer of 2010, I was hell-bent in setting a venture for myself. I thought I really had my folks by the throat when I attempted to persuade them into getting me enlisted in any class or camp that may hone my craft and ingenuity. I would have done it myself but for some reason, I was destitute! They never seemed reluctant. Hence, bobsbigbeerbelly was created. How I got the name was simple and with little meaning. I was more than ready, not to mention ecstatic, to chronicle the summer of my life – the summer when I turned 15, and waited two long months for the greatest expedition I would have had in ten years. It was so close, too close even, that I could almost taste it. It sounds cheesy, I know, but that’s how it actually felt. Yet, somehow, my “great adventure” never came to pass.
So there I was, sitting in front of the idiot box, watching some match on Monday Night RAW. It was after Wrestlemania 26 and I was gobbling down box after box of SkyFlakes, nearly 15 years old, disappointed and somewhat bitter with the turn of events. And I had bobsbigbeerbelly, which for some reason, I never really wanted to give up on just yet. At that moment, I had the sudden yearning to write. I realized that it had been a while, and I just wanted to do it. The most inimitable part about this impulse was that it never crossed my mind to write about the pang of anguish and ennui that I was bound to feel all throughout that summer. I wanted to write about something new. Something that I had never explored then.
Thus I recounted all the circumstances that came to me that summer. The things that I love the most, the new obsessions that I found in the world of theater and special effects, and the importance of the very dregs of my existence. With this undertaking, I received the liberty of doing the one thing that I am most eloquent with: writing. And I must say that it got me somewhere. That summer, I still met a lot of unique people, and one of my works was published in a newspaper. It may be fate or destiny (if you believe in such words). And maybe even luck. But, that’s one word that I am refraining from using to illustrate the incident. I believe that I have progressed as a blogger. Not that much, though; nothing serious. But I am “in the zone”, I think. And as it is open to the public eye, this blog actually receives comments – some of which are unexpected and to be appreciated for times to come.
As I am nearly ending this message, it is noon, and the whole place is quiet. As quiet as it always was a summer ago, when I used to wake up as early as 7 AM just to write in the best place I know: in our garage, under the shade of newly-hung clothes, where the most incomparable ideas seem to pop out of nowhere and the finest words fall from beneath my pen. What I was writing, they were not that important, but they were the best ones, I believe, that I have ever written. One of these days, I will share them with you. Only when the time is right.
It is a summer later, and here I am: just about to end three classes in which I have admitted myself into, not so bankrupted anymore, suddenly sick of Skyflakes, reinventing this blog, with two published works and a bronze medal in martial arts, wrestling still in mind. Ready to write. I always am, and you should know that. This message is merely delayed. Every thing that I had wished, I have done this year. And I could not ask for anything better. In the next month, I will be busy again, but I know we’ll get by. My friend, Chino, without his knowing, taught me how contrastive people can be, and how their individualities can produce such beautiful writings. Well, I never saw or heard from Chino again after last June, but for his good heart, I wish him all the best in the course that I know he is bound to create. I, personally, have never discovered myself yet as a writer, and I’m not too intent to do so. That’s the best part, isn’t it? Searching. I doubt I would be any better if I am to be found. This is why I still write.
Can you feel the summer air departing? In a few days, this house will again be filled with books for June, and no classic rock will ever drown out the sound of heavy rain pattering down on the the roof. This season is forever special to me. It reminds me to hold on to these thoughts. The best ones always come at the strangest times. Let’s do this again. Bob’s big beer belly is waiting. 🙂
KatMay 23, 2011