recently gone from blog hopping, i notice there are alot of bloggers who are definetely good writers. specially those who have a good command either in english, filipino or cebuano. i have observed that their thoughts just flows smoothly on their pages and they are so easy to read and comprehend. i tried to attain such fluency in writing or speaking. i tried to ask myself what language i am knowledgeable of or better still-- which i am comfortable to. but what i've found out to myself, is that im not typically certain which language to use since im not "vocal" or an "expressive" type of person before (or until now..).
i remmember growing up having pets, i got a dog named "sherlocke" and a jar of aquatic fishes. i also tend a garden when im young. im not use to speak nor write since i usually stay in my garden trying to tend a newly transferred orchid, or trying to take care of a dying rose (which i find hard to take care with). i wait until dusk to see a bud bloom into a flower (ground orchids and bulbs family do that since they usually bloom when its not totaly hot). early as 4:30am i usually wake up and walk towards an old bakery with my dog (he loves going with me since there are alot of times when bread accidentally fell off from the shelve and there you go, my dog got a free meal). then in the morning, i go to the beach to fetch "fresh" salt water to change my sort of mini-jar-aquarium to oxiginate the water since there's no airator available in our market that time (kung baga "dili uso sa among probinsya". beside, i only got a mayonnaise jar for an aquarium so murag sosyal ra kaau if i got an airator). im just glad to feel them; to see them grow, and keep taking care of them. i got this interconnectivity with them and i feel comftable with that.
so to trimmed it down, i grew up mostly with non speaking-living-things..
but i don't say that i really have this weird childhood. i also have childhood friends. although i had close friends but for a short span of time since my family move alot from one location to another at that time (due to unknown reason which until now i can't figure out) so again it boils down to be constantly with these "non speaking-living-things"..
so now, i must confess i have a hard time trying to communicate some times. like my thoughts are like a sack of salt with a congested hole on it. it's hard for me to express in words what i feel, i think or imagine about. words are even come short of its primal function when i have this idea or experience that i want to suggest but run out of letter combination to describe it.
im so frustrated. that's why being an artist appeals to me. i want to paint, sketch, design and dance, dance, dance.. dancing is always my passion. i don't care about people might stereotyped me as a freaking gay when i do a dance interpretation with my ballerina dress. as long as i let the blood of artistry run through my veins and never supress them---or else it would turn me purple and rot inside.
for that, let me speak through my hands,
let ? (question mark)
! (exclamation point)
or . (period)
would be expressed thru the tension of my fingers
and not on how i grip a pen.
let my sentence flow with my fish net stockings
rugged tip-toe, plié and arm sway
let ambigousity and spontaneity fluff with my tutu
so it fades from me the notion that if i only grow up with high school musical generation or if only im a certified sesame street child, i might have been well conversed and my accent could be nice =) haha. i don't want to be bitter here but i rather embrace my own flaws and speak the language that i am capable of and get rid the mental torture of being judged.
The words of language, as they are written or spoken, do not seem to play any role in my mechanism of thought. The physical entities which seem to serve as elements in thought are certain signs and more or less clear images.
-Albert Einstein (1879-1955) German-Swiss-U.S. scientist.
Lots of lovin'
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