When people ask me to define love, I say, "Love is like handing someone a gun, having them point it at your heart, and trusting them to never pull the trigger." (Sponge Bob)

When they ask me why I laugh at my mistakes and even write them with pride in my blogs, I say, "I'm not crazy. I just don't give a damn!" (Daffy Duck)

When one time I was conducting a group activity, a student asked what road sign I love the most, I said, "I like dead end signs. I think they're kind. They at least have the decency to let you know you're going nowhere…" (Bugs Bunny)

And when for the nth time a friend would ask me what do I get from writing, I'm not even sure if there are good old souls out there visiting my site, I just smile and say, "Kung gusto mong maging manunulat, eh di magsulat ka. Simple." (Bob Ong)

And last night when Eva said she wants to quit from her work because nobody believes in her, her boss got mad at her, she doesn't even have friends at her agency, and she's crying like hell, I said, "Either you stay to prove your worth or you quit and just show them you're a loser, you have to strive for your happiness." (MY original)

My CHOICES: I remained believing in love. I continued spicing up my mistakes and rewriting my life, accepting failure but keep on dreaming until words would fade into thin air.

Aug 4, 2013

Lack of Something

The distance from my entries is very alarming... Was I really this quiet for the last four years or so?
I couldn't imagine I was able to get by without writing (Oh well, writing my thoughts fall under a different category than writing my Lesson Guides, Progress Checks and Assessments. IEP reports included.)!!!
From the time I learned how to write, no matter how unintelligible my musings are, I write them down. Because Mama said, it's the only way I could improve on my hand-writing, which makes my prose even more -- let's be more apt, muddled.
Is it lack of inspiration?
Nah! I guess not. Because other than writing, teaching is my passion. And as an educator, I could find any topic at every nook in the room to write about. Including a broken pencil.
Is it lack of something smart to say?
I don't think so. My class is filled with witty kids. Asking me why pages of a book are non-living things, yet they get brittle and die.
Is it lack of time?
Oh well...