I Cannot Write Anymore
Over the past week, I have been going out with my friends after work. We always plan to jog but end up with our usual food tripping “bonding sessions”. We’ve been giving in to our food cravings from spaghetti and burger to blueberry cheesecake, north park noodles and a bunch of junk food. Aside from the taste of these sinful foods, I appreciate our time together and I always feel loved when they listen to me.
Two nights ago, I was able to lay down the things that have been bothering me for a month now. It is always hard for me to rant about personal stuff that would make me look weak and indecisive. But at that time, I was able to just flow when they asked me of my part of the rant. I told them that I needed to breathe – how frustrated I am in doing the things I am not skilled to do. I’ve realized that majority of my skills have gone doormat, when I know I am supposed to cultivate and hone it.
I love to write. It is my joy to create stories whenever I cannot find one. But right now, I feel that I have disassociated myself from it. Even as of writing this, I cannot concentrate anymore. I have been so structured, so restricted, analytical.
I miss being the different one. Not the old hedonistic me, but I miss exploring the very things I am very passionate about – defying the textbook rules of managing moving images, dancing with metaphors and arguing with personifications, sticking my head out of a winter train, holding hands with water while sliding in the rainbow. I miss my imagination.
Multi-tasking has been a gift to me. I thank God for my new found skill of being analytical but I cannot just put it in my veins. I loathe numbers, but somehow this whole process gave me a glimpse of how gracious He is to make me overcome my fear of Statistics. The value of patience. He humbled me to give me a glimpse of who I really am minus my dependence on Him. He pushes me out of the comforts of my intellect and long list of achievements partnered with my ginormous pride. He was goading me to become the person He wants me to be; although I may feel crushed, forgotten and unappreciated back then (and sometimes even now) I can always be confident that God has plans for me. He never gave up on me even in my worst tantrums and ungratefulness. He handpicked me for a very special purpose.
I love how my friends, Nikki and Abby praibuked (praise then rebuked) me. It goes something like this:
(Abie)Praise: “Nakikita ko nga siguro ang galing – galing mo nga kung nagkataon”...
(Nikki)Rebuke: ”Oo nga Lykie, pero siguro yayabang ka nga talaga nun”...
They are right, and God thought of a solution beforehand. I’m glad He did. Now that am past my incubation period things are getting clearer, opportunities are wide open for me now and am glad that am still holding hands with My Abba.
Right now, I am no longer torn between a continued courtship with numbers or re-pursuing my first love of writing stories because this is just my opportune time.
Maybe I can have both, but I have to be married with my first love and only be friends with the other.
Two nights ago, I was able to lay down the things that have been bothering me for a month now. It is always hard for me to rant about personal stuff that would make me look weak and indecisive. But at that time, I was able to just flow when they asked me of my part of the rant. I told them that I needed to breathe – how frustrated I am in doing the things I am not skilled to do. I’ve realized that majority of my skills have gone doormat, when I know I am supposed to cultivate and hone it.
I love to write. It is my joy to create stories whenever I cannot find one. But right now, I feel that I have disassociated myself from it. Even as of writing this, I cannot concentrate anymore. I have been so structured, so restricted, analytical.
I miss being the different one. Not the old hedonistic me, but I miss exploring the very things I am very passionate about – defying the textbook rules of managing moving images, dancing with metaphors and arguing with personifications, sticking my head out of a winter train, holding hands with water while sliding in the rainbow. I miss my imagination.
Multi-tasking has been a gift to me. I thank God for my new found skill of being analytical but I cannot just put it in my veins. I loathe numbers, but somehow this whole process gave me a glimpse of how gracious He is to make me overcome my fear of Statistics. The value of patience. He humbled me to give me a glimpse of who I really am minus my dependence on Him. He pushes me out of the comforts of my intellect and long list of achievements partnered with my ginormous pride. He was goading me to become the person He wants me to be; although I may feel crushed, forgotten and unappreciated back then (and sometimes even now) I can always be confident that God has plans for me. He never gave up on me even in my worst tantrums and ungratefulness. He handpicked me for a very special purpose.
I love how my friends, Nikki and Abby praibuked (praise then rebuked) me. It goes something like this:
(Abie)Praise: “Nakikita ko nga siguro ang galing – galing mo nga kung nagkataon”...
(Nikki)Rebuke: ”Oo nga Lykie, pero siguro yayabang ka nga talaga nun”...
They are right, and God thought of a solution beforehand. I’m glad He did. Now that am past my incubation period things are getting clearer, opportunities are wide open for me now and am glad that am still holding hands with My Abba.
Right now, I am no longer torn between a continued courtship with numbers or re-pursuing my first love of writing stories because this is just my opportune time.
Maybe I can have both, but I have to be married with my first love and only be friends with the other.
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