Mine.

It's weird reading my essay draft after the shining limelight. It has faded and I have realized the flaws that have made themselves distinguishable.
But anyway, at least I landed a spot. And that's what's important. Hahaha.
Here it goes:


Literature-a collection of letters and words slowly passing through the slow yet careful hands of the weaver to produce an intricately-designed body of knowledge featuring a spectrum of colors beyond a rainbow's prowess. It truly is humanity's wonder; an outlet of their thoughts which have progressed throughout a myriad of centuries.

To make the baffling decision between prose and poetry would be a herculean task but with one's genuine love for words, he can truly define the fine line between the two and distinguish which fits his psyche.

Scrutinizing my persona, poetry definitely appeals to me best. Poetry, in its purest form, is truly a work of art having qualities which sets it apart from prose. Through its connotative way of expression, it gives birth to a new eye which sees only a parcel of reality.

The profound balance of liberation and constraints serves as its aesthetic. It tests its aspirants to scrutinize their furthest thoughts, freeing them slightly yet learning proper reservation. Poetry teaches us true freedom; one that isn't a total pouring of opinions but having the ability to weigh our thoughts to cater to the people around us in a genuine way.

Poetry appeals to the figurative portion of our thinking. What makes it special is how it can diverge and cover the modern-day issues which are beyond stressing into humor, creativity, enthusiasm and vague pleasure. It shows us that things shouldn't always stay conforming and denotative. To take a break from the unfulfilling aspirations in this industrialized world is what it lures us into.

Sometimes, due to its form and design, it stirs confusion. But this confusion just goes to show that however intellectually-directed we are, some things in life are to be left in constant deciphering. And the continuous drive to understand gives us a holistic and a more just view of our surroundings.

Moreover, poetry directs us back to memories of childhood; the innocence, the simplicity of life and the easily attained gaiety from simple words which rhyme at the end. Who could ever forget how we smile while listening to Humpty Dumpty or Babba Black Sheep? Poetry truly captures hearts.

Poetry is a sanctuary where everyone has his/her own say about things. It is constructing yet liberating. It takes us back to a peaceful resort where everyone can go back in time through rhymes and creativity that flourish. It is a fountain of love; love that everyone deserves. Love which has become unnoticeable can make itself shine through poetry.

(I forgot how I ended this. It wasn't on my draft.)

Editor's Note-This essay was made during the UP Kalilayan competition. Portions of the essay posted here aren't exactly identical to the one submitted because the editor tends to change things while rewriting. This is from his draft.

Flash

I haven't blogged for a while again. October was just stressfully fulfilling. Highlights:

Accomplishing and producing The Heartbeat on time.

Being an EIC is no easy job especially when you do not get a hundred percent cooperation from your team mates. You'd have to tighten things up a bit, stretch your limits to a few more inches and sleep less. You'd have to set other things aside and completely dedicate your line of thinking to the paper, editing articles and checking facts. For someone who doesn't have the passion for writing, this may seem like a herculean job. But the love for words makes it worthwhile. I must be honest, I really had a hard time. I kept comparing our situation with the past EIC's. I kept on asking if they had the same issues with submissions, if they had to completely revise things up or if they had to reach their extremes before getting people to do their work. I had those questions. 

I was scared. I was scared because producing a paper that will not pass other people's standards would mean failure-failure for me, especially as the EIC is the captain of the ship.. and if his ship sucks, he prolly does too. 

But hey, above all, we finished on time..but just barely..(We submitted the paper 5 minutes after getting it from the press.) And we did a pretty mighty job. We'll just hope that they'd appreciate our blood and sweat though they'll have to judge through heaps and heaps of writer's products, I hope they'll appreciate ours better. :D

My birthday.

Twas one of the happiest birthdays I've ever had. Usually, my birthday would fall on an examination day..which really sucks. It actually did too this year but I was excused. Yey. So, yeah. I competed for the essay writing hosted by the UP Kalilayan. It was a hair-raising experience. The instruction was: "If you were a form of literature, would you be prose or poetry? Explain why. " Twas really hard for me to choose between the two because poetry is not that close to my heart anymore; I preferred prose. But then again, writers have to pick where they could conveniently spill their thoughts out, even if they weren't wholly true. And poetry was so much easier to expound. So there. And I got the silver plaque. Yeah. All because I wore my lucky red underwear.. *kidding* I don't have a particular lucky red underwear but I do have red underwear. I got this from Ma'am Veran. She said that it brings good luck so yeah. hahaha. I'll try to post my essay here.

So that's it for now. 

We have to let her go.

I just need to squeeze my writing juices so I could start writing my articles. So I thought of blogging first.

So. Yeah. I have a lot to blog about. It's been a month since I last blogged and September was a pretty eventful month.
But right now, I'd like to focus on a topic that is dear to me.

A few weeks ago, we once again competed in the DSPC. I thought that things would feel all too familiar, having been competing since 5th grade(but skipped a year during 7th grade). But no. This year was different.

It was different in a way that it always makes me teary-eyed every time I think about it. It's really hard to shrug off the feeling that you will do the things you so enjoyed for years for the last time. It's hard to fully attach yourself to people who you know will be detached from you, sooner or later. It's painstaking to imagine how they will be next year(especially with the good byes that are to happen.. Yes, it's officially happening. And it's tearing us apart..as least for a few of us who know about it.) It hurts me to not be there for them when they will experience the "transition," with whoever will guide them next year. I know it will be hard for them..but I feel like it's harder for me to see them hurting from afar and I could not do anything about it.
I am their "kuya" and they made me feel the love and respect that I couldn't get anywhere else. I wish to reciprocate this by being there for them. . which will be physically impossible next year. I wish to make them feel my presence. I wish to be their backbone when they feel weak. I just cannot afford to see them suffering next year if ever someone undeserving will get the new position. I just cannot imagine the sadness, especially of the new ones, who are a bit fragile, still.

But that's just how life goes. "She" has to be free too..to be with her loved one..who will give her the happiness that we cannot give. We have to let her go. And we just have to move on.

(and just to assure you that I really love them, I'm teary-eyed again while blogging)