Whenever I look back at my childhood there are always three things that come to mind: the many different ways I entertained myself whenever there was a blackout in the early ‘90s, the many different times I fell down different sets of stairs, and how I was so adamant to learn to read as soon as possible because I wasn’t content with having bedtime stories read to me. I wanted to be the one to read them.
It was almost impossible to find my nose not stuck in a book soon after I finally learned to read. I would always request for new books to read when Christmas or my birthday comes, and I treated each one with utmost care. They say the reason I was so skinny when I was young is because I would always choose books over food, and yes, that would be right.
I changed dreams a lot, too. I wanted to be a ballerina, a businesswoman, a scientist, a DJ, the President of the Philippines… I even wanted to be a painter! That idea was scrapped as soon as I realized I can never draw to save my life. It wasn’t until I was holding my very first issue of Candy magazine when I was 14 and I was reading Mia Fausto’s words that I realized that hey, I can be a writer! I want to be a writer! The back pages of my notebooks became the parking space of my thoughts and my friends my very first readers. Mostly they’re just unintelligible stuff about my crushes, angst, or whatever was ailing my teenage heart, but there were some I considered gems that I am still proud of to this day.
I was so sure that I was going to be the editor-in-chief of a famous magazine for teens; teenagers will write to me and I will write them back, giving sound advice and being wise but never patronizing. However, real life happened and I ended up working at a completely different industry. My blog served as an outlet for my mind’s constant need to babble and my journals, for my more private musings. I held on tightly to my dream, though, and set my mind I will find a way to go back.
About two years ago, I took the leap and went somewhere closer to what I originally wanted to do: Public Relations. I’m still not a writer by profession and I still don’t write sound and solid advice to teenagers, but I still have my blog and my journals. To be honest, even though it wasn’t my original dream, I can say that I’m really enjoying what I’m doing.
As what I realized, I don’t think we have to be bound to our preconceived notions of ourselves, because doing so would mean closing ourselves to other wonderful things we can become. I read a quote somewhere that says, “Sometimes on your way to a dream, you get lost and find a new one.” I just want to create nice things and share it with the world, and I’d like to do it through my stories. I might not have become a writer by profession, but I am still a writer because I continue to write and I will continue doing so because hey, I owe it to my 14-year old self who first believed I can do it.
Illustration by Lari Gazmen
