English

I'm not writing in English because I want to show the world how great I am at writing in English. It's not also because I hate our native language (Pilipino) or my native dialect (Bisaya). No. I'm writing in English because I know that I need lots of practice in it. I am an aspiring novelist and need lots of practice in English. It seems that online forums and message boards are the only places that I can "say" things in English without being given the "look". I'm sure some of you here are giving it to me right now, but at least I can't see any of you. Hehe...

Read my long-term goal (or you can call it a dream) here. Like what I said there, I'm not sure whether I'll achieve this dream or not, I'm not even sure if I can sustain the interest, but it will be worth the journey whatever the outcome.

Farewell, Jaime Cardinal Sin

Jaime Cardinal Sin, 1928-2005

I was too young to remember what you did for me and other freedom-loving Filipinos back in 1986, but thank you. Thank you for bringing democracy back to our country. Goodbye.

Lazy man chases dream

Believe it or not, I just woke up one morning and decided that I want to become a published writer. "To write stories," I told myself, "that will be my goal in life." For years I was not interested in goals in life. That's because I had none until that day I decided I want to become a published author. From kindergarten, through elementary, through high school, college, and after college, I've been asked what my goal in life was. And almost every time my answer would be different from my previous one. Now, I am thankful to say, I have only one goal. I want to become a published writer, specifically to be a published novelist.

I am taking, what I believe are, positive actions towards realizing this dream. I've read Stephen King's "On Writing" and I'm currently reading Sol Stein's "Stein on Writing". I'm not a native English speaker and rarely use English except in official correspondence, in online forums, and this blog. I need all the practice that I can get, and all the nuts-and-bolts that I can lay my hands on. I'm sure I'll be able to learn things from these two books. I could do worse than not reading them. It will just be like college, again. Except that this time around, I'm having fun while learning how to write stories. I'm also praying that I'll achieve this dream. Studying and praying. I can already see the end of the rainbow. The only thing left is to find out if the pot at the end contains gold, or hot water.

I'm not sure whether I'll achieve this dream or not, but hey, it will be worth the journey, whatever the outcome.

Dogs Go Barking at Night

I wrote this poem one night when I was awaken by some neighbor's crazy dogs. Or maybe they were my dogs, I don't know. It's short because I didn't get up at all. I just used my cellphone, which doubles as my alarm clock, to write it.

When dogs go barking at night,
Inevitably sleep is beyond sight.
Try as I may to go back to sleep,
The barking pulls me back from slumber deep.

Abba Anokk and the Stubborn Pencil

This is my second poem to be posted here. I wrote this on February 22, 2005. I actually have a printed copy on my office drawer. The inspiration for this poem is my inability (not of my own choice) to use modern programming techniques at work. I'm probably the only one who can understand this poem.

In the land of Blast, somewhere near our distant past,
Lived Tong Mangato, oldest of the wise cast.
In the town of Subsequent, where fine days are frequent,
Lived Abba Anokk, bender most stringent.

Two paths have crossed.

Dark clouds form, as thunder grumbles.
Lightning strikes as bull wind squalls.
The Matrix has been opened. Divide by zero divine.
Not still, yet not in motion is Time.

Bright future's a-calling, Abba goes yearning.
Prophecy of five revisited, sixty the magic number.
And so shall famine stay, five more years it may
Before sweet rain creeps out of hiding.
Then the blackhole of thirty-six good Abba shall escape.

Phones go a ringing as printers go a printing.
Abba from his desk awakens with drools a dripping.
Pencil in hand, paper in second.
Escape plan drawn commences at dawn.