I Can't Believe I Have Time to Write Again

In busy days and days that never seemed to end, I learned to bask in silence. At times, I would take good, brief walks, or laugh my entire being out. Pacifying myself had suddenly become part of my routine. Moreso, I learned how to manage doing one task at a time because I knew there were so many "nexts" to come and I would seriously lose it if I tried doing everything simultaneously. So when the days started slowing down, I found myself itching upon being confronted with a thousand uncertainties.

Be brave, they say. Grow up. Accept new opportunities. Try new hobbies. Do what you love. Never stop discovering new things. These days, these are the mantras I hear unceasingly. And I listened. I tried to be independent, fixating on the less than basic activities I could do in the kitchen. I brought myself to work, to the mall, and back home. I bought groceries and stuffed myself with fatty food. Every time, every time, I conquered a task by myself, I'd be proud, because, I repeat, I did it all by myself. Nevertheless, I do wonder sometimes. Isn't it a little too late for that, now that I have lived for almost a quarter of a century? Why do I feel this only now? Why was I not taught to survive and be, quite frankly, an adult?

Then time was of another matter, although as equally significant. I wanted to dabble in the arts. I have always enjoyed painting words, painting on blank canvasses, pushing keys and hearing wonderful, wonderful music. More than it being cathartic, I deemed myself to be a little bit better in this area compared to others, no offense. But when all my time was lost, why could I not push harder to invest on this? And then somehow, I ended up being a jack-of-all-trades and master of none. The pain.

It's hard to uproot me. When I find my niche, I dig really deep and claw my way down. I do not know if this brought me much good or much bad, but if I really, really, really trust someone else, I allow myself to be swayed. I have a strong history of harsh words and betrayal and somewhere along the way, I just wanted it to stop completely. So I put my guards up. How do I know if I'm trusting the right people? How do I protect myself from the awkwardness and intimidation while all the while enjoying new discoveries and being thrown away in a whirlwind? How do I become the person everybody is comfortable with in my endeavor to keep myself intact?

I have so many questions, most of which I can obviously see are contradicting or already provide direct answers. I just wanted to write. I have to say, my feelings are still twitching and sentimentally blurry, but seeing the words get strung together just like old times feels orgasmically good.

Please Take My Time Seriously

I am annoyed. I am annoyed at people who belittle the work we do as preschool teachers and college professors in the university. "Madaming ginagawa? Preschool teacher ka lang naman ah." I teach preschool and college students. With preschoolers, my materials, weekly plan and activities are not the only things that matter. I have to make sure that every day, they are SAFE. And with that, I cannot compromise. I cannot be stressed because I have to be patient. I cannot be sleepy because I have to be alert. With college students, I have to know enough to answer their questions. I have to know enough to stimulate critical thinking in my students. I have to diligently read; and it does NOT stop there. I have to plan my lessons so it fits 90 minutes and that I don't delay or ruin the syllabus I had prepared. Any deviation on that and I ruin the better chances they have of maximizing their opportunities to learn.

I am annoyed at people who do not consider how precious my time is. I am annoyed at people who do not see how many things I have sacrificed because I chose to commit in educating the minds (and hearts) of the next generation. I knew, the moment this job was offered to me, that my social life would deterioriate if I chose this line of work. But I said yes, because I could not say no to the offer of investing my time (and life) in the next generation. The weekends I have spent working, the movies I could not watch because I had to read academic texts, the extra minutes of sleep I cannot get because I have to get up by 6 am everyday, the heavy bag I bring because I need my laptop to process loads of information, the lesser time I get to spend with my boyfriend, family and friends because I have to finish a series of tasks without compromising excellence. I am annoyed when I am told that I have to be spontaneous and when I give a valid explanation on how serious the job I chose to pursue is, I am given responses that are sarcastic.

It's not funny that I have scheduled hours for "spontaneity," but it's the MOST I can afford, the MOST I can do and the BEST I can give to people who matter. So at least that, I hoped, should have been appreciated.