Because Life is good for you.

It's kind of odd, really, how a simple ride to school can change so much.

A simple bus ride. The same eleven-peso fare, the same window seat, the same radion station, the same gags, one not so different from the others pieces of the trips I take day in and day out.

On my way to PHILCOA on a Lucky 7 blue-and-beige bus, looking past the rain-stained glass of the bus window, I was mulling over my inner predicament. I can't write. What's happening to me? I used to weave stories at the point of a pen, and now I keep getting stuck. I can't land. what's wrong with me?

It occured to me only then to look back on the lessons I learned from my CW 100 class. (That's Beginning Creative Writing.) And the very first lesson I'd been taught was the only thing I needed to get me started. It had been staring me in the face all this while, and it took me until now to see everything afresh.

"As a writer, you have to be sensitive. You must have a genuine interest in people, whether or not you like them. " --- Sir Gerry Los Banos

And to think all this while, I'd been laying on layer on layer of shell to keep me and my feelings safe from the outside world.

I've let myself become cynical.
I've let myself become selfish.
I've let myself become callous.
I've let myself become vain.

I've become afraid.
And for all this, I ask myself for forgiveness.

I've finally realized how one's creativety can be very much like having a wild, perhaps even magical creature for a companion. He or she is there to serve you, but he or she is not your slave. The Firebird, the Hippogriff, the Tikbalang are there to aid you in the quest for greater things, but they also need to keep their freedom. To work with them calls for sincerity and humilty, as they will know when you speak false, and will never submit to your will if you believe yourself a higher creature tham them. And above all, to work with them calls for respect; they shall respect you as much as you respect them.

Now I know what it really means, to tame a Tikbalang.


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I'm not sure if the pleasantness of my Thursday's because of my epiphany, but I'd like to think so.

Comic Book-Writing class's been the highlight of the day, as always. It never fails to send my adrenaline skyrocketing annd bursting all over the place. silly little girl me, I hope I stay that way.

Costume class was ok, in spite of my silly fears of a thundering professor, spewing fire and brimstone enough to bury the Faculty Center. (really, I think I should stop letting my imagination run amok all over the place. ) Just a couple of reports on woof and warps and nylon and rayon and where to look for what Josephine and Victoria and Fantine and Timoun wore.

Right now, I encode the past twelve hourse of my day in the comfort of the Main Library's Computer Center at P20 an hour, and my wonderful man hopes the weather is ok, wherever I am. When I get home, Mama and dinner will be waiting for me, and thistime, I will sincerely enjoy homeworking and working out.

Life is good.