Daughter, Sister, Wife, Friend, Coordinator, Writer and Me!

After reading a couple of blogs (my morning routine), I got stuck with one blog – janeca’s.

 

 

It was the thought of her blog that struck me and made me think about it over the weekend.

 

 

 

 

When I was about six years old, I dreamed of being a nun. Always holding the Bible on one hand, I would also put the ever-reliable ‘Good Morning’ towel on my head to make me look like a nun.

 

 

 

 

I would read passages of the Bible to my mom, my dad, my aunts and my uncles. They would ask me why I wanted to be a nun… I would reply because I like to be Mother Mary. Of course, they never took me seriously and just let me be.

 

 

 

 

Two years after, I wanted to be a doctor. My mom encouraged the idea. She even bought me these ‘I want to be a doctor’ toys. My cousin and I would play until our siesta time and play it again when we wake up.

 

 

 

 

However, after a year, I grew tired of playing doctor and decided I want to be an office girl (immediately after watching ‘Working Girls’ starred by Gina Pareno, Dina Bonnevie and Carmi Martin). My cousin and I transformed our room into an office with my brother as our car (poor Rondon!).

 

 

 

 

We write things and held meetings (sometimes since we have no boss, we gave this role to my brother. He was our manager/CEO/owner of the company – of course, he preferred this role rather than be a car).

 

 

We stopped our role-playing game when we began to be loaded with homework, cheerleading practice, extra-curricular activities, etc.

 

 

 

 

Then… boom.

 

 

 

 

I wanted to be a writer. I read books (I was a Mills & Boons/ Sweet Valley Kids, SVT, SVH/Sweet Dreams/Sidney Sheldon baby) even if it was already 4 am. Aside from that, I’d type and type short stories on our rusty typewriter.

 

 

 

 

I think my dad pitied me because about a month, he bought our cousin’s typewriter.

 

 

 

 

I would type my short stories (a.k.a. Sweet Dreams – Rach’s versions) or sometimes, I would type what I generally feel that day or write a book review (of Sidney Sheldon).

 

 

 

 

That was the ambition I had carried on until now – to be a writer (well, another dream I had was to be like Jullie Yap-Daza but I knew I was not TV material).

 

 

 

 

I struggled when I was in college to be good. Some criticisms were ok and others were stabbing me from the back (Damn that person! Will never forget that!), I still tried.

 

 

 

 

After college, I decided to put writing on the backseat so I could help the family… However, I would still read and read. I’ve decided to make use of what I have studied so I quit my job and luckily I got in a PR firm.

 

 

 

 

The owner was impressed but when she saw my ‘raw work’ she immediately told me, (over the phone) that my work was trash!

 

 

Ugh! I thought of giving up writing and do something else, I was not prepared for rejection. Not. But instead I hang on to her and in return she gave us pieces of advice on what not to do and what to do.

 

 

 

 

It helped me.

 

 

 

 

Now, I’m a secretary (where did that come from?) but I still want to be a writer that’s why I’m maintaining this blog to realize my dream.

 

 

 

 

And I know, I can be one. Just wait for me. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Comments on: "are we where we’re destined to be?" (3)

  1. It’s working! Great!

  2. ‘are we where we’re destined to be?’

    Indeed what a great question and not one that is easy to answer… because who is to say and to be honest, too wide a question to narrow down to a career or dream. Life is too complex.
    This is something I struggle with. I do not like the idea of what you do, being what you are. As in you become defined for what you do… and not for what you are. We are more than what we do. Much more.
    However, I always wanted to be a writer… but have never had the belief… I listened to others who laughed at me… sending my dream deep inside out of fear of ridicule.
    To me writing or the wanting to write is something that’s just there – just there deep inside – yet I know it is something that is more a lifelong process, making up part of me, than it is aiming for actual success and recognition.
    Yet I cannot call myself a writer as I am not recognized as achieving anything to warrant being called a writer.

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