For whatever I can share to inform, inspire, enlighten, and bring joy and hope to others, then this blog has best served its purpose.

Friday, October 21, 2011

A writing experience

 Lately, a friend of mine have asked me to write about the story of his own life. He said he just feels like he needs to have his life story written and trusts that I could do the job better for him. I know that he, too, could write as I've had read some of his works before but for him to allow me to write his own life's story is, for me, something quite flattering and surprising at the same time. "I know you can write it better than I do, Nap", he said as he handed me the manuscripts which would be my reference to what I must be writing about him.

Writing is my passion--a gift I've had discovered way back when I was in my third grade. Our teacher asked us to write something about the experiences we've had during the last summer vacation. I wrote about the vacation I've had spent in my paternal grandmother's hometown in Leyte. It was my first attempt at writing and that kind of thing has since never left me; it somehow lodged in deep within myself like a fountain of something that never dries out.

But my passion for writing may have taken roots earlier than that. My grandmother, before she died in 1988 at age 78, used to tell me about my unusual curiosity at almost everything back when I was just about 4 or 5 years old. I can only imagine how she must have dealt a lot of patience with answering my questions and carefully explaining them one by one so that a young mind would know and understand. Curiosity, as I would come to understand about it now, is one of the characteristics a true writer must possess. It is where creativity should base from and the springboard for whatever it can translate about. Because a writer is like a scientist or inventor, he seeks to find out something or invents it. Or perhaps, I had inherited this gift from my maternal grandfather who has a deep passion of the same.

I had been writing poems, essays, and even a thesis by request and until now there are still quite a few who would like me to write in their behalf. Writing has become a wonderful experience for me; it is more about the joy felt that you were able to help someone or by simply being just a voice to others than just seeing your works getting published or recognized. The more I write, the more that I enjoy.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Love Spell

Some few years back, I wrote a poem which I didn't finish. Last night, I found the old notebook with the unfinished poem on it. It's been a long time and it's all about love. I grabbed a pen and scribbled something on the notebook. Love Spell was born.

What is it that must be seen when all there is
but a shrouded mist I could portray?

What is there in the depths within
to have a heart that feels?

The only thing that matters most
is what I need to say--

But yet no words could best express
than what my love to you foretells:

From out the fleeting moment's perfect glow,
I caught a glimpse the thoughts of you.

From out the night's so soothing breeze,
you are a dear to me--no less.

So let me from my heart should care,
I love you most and truly, I swear.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Steve Jobs did a good job

I happened to read someone's Facebook profile commenting on, what he believed, the biases displayed by the local and national media with regards to Apple Inc. Steve Jobs's passing away being given so much attention and emphasis with instead of the two of our national artists' death that should have deserved more recognition than what the foreigner may now have enjoyed. I understand about this someone's outcry and for his criticizing against news reporters especially of a certain Philippine television network that, according to him, never read what is our own. But whether these news reporters may have read or not about our own artists, it doesn't mean that by covering a foreigner's life story will make them less a Filipino.

Steve Jobs, although an American with Syrian roots, is no stranger to us and is worthy of our praises or to be also called our own. He belongs to the world. His life story is an inspiration for all and one telling us to never let adversities stop us from pursuing our goals, dreams, and all these things with our heart we keep doing.

After having forced to resign from his own company in 1985, Jobs never gave up and continued on to make what his peers called "crazy" ideas a reality. But this college dropout is truly, and undisputedly just a born genius. He has showed to us that, by thinking and seeing things differently to change the world for the better, he's done a wonderful thing and that's what matters to him.

Jobs would be best remembered in the iMac, the iPod, the MacBook, the iPad, the MacBook Pro, the iPhone, and many more. But most, he would be remembered for his to "stay hungry and foolish" philosophy or to think differently from the rest. With his technological expertise and creativity combined, high technology was made available to the people and the world was never the same again.

Now that he's gone, the world has lost a gem. Farewell to the man considered as the Thomas Edison of the 21st century. He did a good job. May he rest in peace.

Thursday, October 6, 2011


During my application for a Copy Editor position at a publishing company and, as part of the application process after having passed the initial interview, one of the questions asked in the examination was this:"How would you explain death to a four-year-old child?" The examination, which was four to five pages long and divided into four parts with the essay type being the last part, was the type of exam designed to gauge up a writer's editorial capability and as much, as well, as of the insights one can effectively convey with for a given situation or subject. But how would you explain death to a four-year-old child?

Explaining death to a child, I think, requires a skill. But I also wonder how a four-year-old child would be curious about death and to ask or let someone explain what it is all about. After having written some few good sentences on the topic, I started to think and paused for a while. Since the exam was time-pressured so I'm aware that I only had a definitely limited time to finish it. Should I have to wait a little longer for that linguistic explosion to take place? Or should I proceed on with whatever my mind is capable of translating thoughts into written words.

I think we are all writers in our own rights. It's only that some would rather write it simply and in a much digestible language while others, on the other hand, exceptionally expressed it very well and convincingly. To write is to express one's thoughts and emotions. To write is to think. Writing begins in the mind. To write is to be free. To write is to be responsible.

Explaining death to a four-year-old child requires a skill, indeed. Our instant insights would be crucial. It must allow us to reveal the best writer that each one of us can possibly be and to try to instill wisdom at even such a so young and innocent a mind of our subject.

I would like to write more but I'm losing space on the page. It's not yet time but someone must read the unwritten or, if not, the what was otherwise being meant. Taking a deep breath, I walked towards the HR and handed her the answer sheets.  In my mind I told her, that's impromptu. That's me.

Monday, October 3, 2011

There's Always Got To Be An Error

"Action and reaction, ebb and flow, trial and error, change--this is the rhythm of living. Out of our over-confidence, fear; out of our fear, clearer vision, fresh hope. And out of hope, progress."--Bruce Barton 

There's always got to be an error
In everything we do;
A wise man says nobody's perfect
That rules this whole world through.

There's always got to be deceptions
In everything we see;
A wise man says our eyes were faulty
That leads us all astray.

There's always got to be a wrong side
In everything we deal;
A wise man says just keep on going
Just keep on going,sail!

There's always got to be an error
In everything we love;
A wise man says 'tis good than nothing
A love one we must have.

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