You are a Writer, too.

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"Not all stories have a happy ending."

     Life could be sad, happy, or just right. There are times that we would fall, and eventually, we will stand. Life is paradoxical, and sometimes, a bitch. Sometimes, we fuck up, sometimes we rock. That's how it is. Life itself is a series of up's and down's. Let's just enjoy living.

     From the quoted statement above, one's life is not just a story but a novel. Like a novel, life has a series of chapters. There might be a time that you are having a little love affair with someone, and you feel like it will never end, and in all of a sudden, it did end; OR you might be chasing somebody and then another person stumbled upon your way, and in the end, it will be you and him/her.

     There are just some instances in our lives, whether sweet or bitter, that will come to a conclusion, but it does not necessarily mean that your story has ended, but a chapter did. Who knows, in the next chapter, you might find that right one for you, or you might be promoted after being constantly nagged at by your boss. You cannot just say that fate is playing with your life.

     Yes, there are stories that end sadly, like those tragic stories you've read, or from the news you have watched. Such stories open a new chapter to other people's lives. One's death might make someone realize something or make someone stronger. We have to move on and turn to the next page of our novel.

     Your life messing up does not mean you will not have a happy ending. You have to go on and on, face life's every challenge, and celebrate your life. Remaining idle in a certain situation does not mean your story ends right there, the decision to turn the page is all up to you.

     Moments, like chapters or excerpts, can be read once, twice, or thrice. We can relive these in our minds just like re-reading your favorite novel.

     We still have unread chapters. It is not really important how a story ends, for me, but how you write it. There could be things that you want to delete, but you cannot. That is the difference between lives and stories that were written with paper and pen.

     Let us enjoy writing and reading our stories. Enjoy living and savor the moments that we have, whether with our loved ones or just ourselves. Some stories end happily, some don't. That's life, just live it, write more, and turn the pages of your book.

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Life is a Chess

Life, it is full of decisions to make and choices that we are to take. It’s a game of strategy and tactics, on who can make astute decisions emerges the victor. In every move, lies a path that can take you deeper into a particular circumstance; it is not how which path you want to take, but how deep do you want to go. Sometimes when we are compelled to move, we move half-heartedly because of the thought that there’s no taking it back. 

Do we begin to tremble in fear in the face of this uncertainty? Or do we pursue even further, committed to our decisions, and tread the unknown—such is the nature of chess, that for every move lies a corresponding chain of action. 

Everyone is a chess piece in life, but not all can be a chess player. People are not logical beings, but psychological ones; tied to their emotions, they succumb to this kind of a drug. A chess piece is in itself enclosed in a box along with other chess pieces, only do they come out when they are needed as mere tools for serving an end and be taken back in darkness when they have served their purpose. It takes a chess player to rise above their emotions and have clarity of mind as they go along, although they have emotions too, they know the equilibrium of making decisions, balancing out the pros and cons, strategizing before committing

The world itself is a giant chess board, and it is far from a question of moves, but a question of us being a mere chess piece or the chess player. Either we are below awareness or conscious of everything. And that is a question we must ponder, further reasoning out our judgments, as we find ourselves to be enlightened as the chess player.

Personality & Self-Discovery

Personality.

What is Personality?  According to Wikipedia, “It is the particular combination of emotional, attitudinal, and behavioral response patterns of an individual.” The word pattern itself in the description, describes personality as something that may be predicted.

I’ve always been fascinated about the idea of “self-discovery,” because it’s like an untapped goldmine waiting to be found; even back then, things that are about personality and even autograph books were my sort of thing, I like describing what I like, my likes and dislikes, my favorite color, and all that jazz. The idea of sharing those information is quite gratifying and what more is that as you go along you get to find yourself even deeper amidst the ideas that you share, like insights pop out of nowhere seeming that it was done by some unknown divine force. 

Personality fascinates me the most; I have this great need to just analyze the behaviors of others and see the meaning behind their behavior. That need is what pushed me to pursue Psychology and I must say, I’m enjoying every bit of my education, though some days are boring, but I motivate myself from day to day if needed (hey, motivation is like bathing, we should do it everyday). 

Journey of Self-Discovery

I’ve come to different fields of interests ranging from poetry, music, sports, and dancing but I realized, all those were just a means to an end, that end was my journey of self-discovery. In every field that I pursue, I’ve always wanted my own classification like if I’m in music, what type of musician am I? What’s my genre? What instrument do I play? Same goes with poetry, what type of poetic style should I be using (I used free verse and villanelle); then I got into dancing and I was so eager to have my own distinction from other dancers and so I chose Popping as my specialty. For every field that I’ve pursued, I wanted to have my own niche and distinction. 

Self-discovery, the idea of knowing more about yourself, i.e., the strengths, weaknesses, quirks, habits, and the like are what I found to be the most enjoyable. Some field may be in the exploration of our universe, some explores the vastness of our ocean’s deep, and what I found to be the best to explore is the mind and the personality that goes with it.

Personalities are Puzzles

Everyone is unique and yet they are all the same. What I see are not mere personalities on people, but puzzles that can somehow be solved to some extent. Our personality manifests throughout our whole being, from our preferences on things, the way we choose to dress ourselves, our way of laughing, how we sneeze, our belongings, and even the spaces we live in speak a lot of our personality. All things that surrounds us which are under our control and subjected by our preferences are a reflection of who we are inside. 

I perceive personality as a jigsaw puzzle, that new pieces are being shown the more you interact with a person. And you can only do so if you’d be well enough to share your own, it’s a transaction that both parties are benefitting. The degrees of knowing would depend on the training of the person, if one would train his faculties to discern the underlying patterns based on principles, one can put great amount of certainty and accuracy on their profile, compared to someone who’s not trained. 

I’m still dubious of why people can’t invest time on discovering themselves; the earlier they put effort into it, the smoother their lives will be and they would know their limits and to how long can they stretch their boiling point. A lot of benefits can be earned by pursuing this matter, even if you’re not in the field of Psychology, you can still learn more about yourself through your own way. 

That’s why people have problems coming out of the blue, not knowing the root of the problem must be one of the hardest things to come by, a problem can be provided by a solution once it’s recognized, but a problem that you don’t know what’s causing it is such a pain. Little you know, it might be you who’s the source of it, which you usually bring up but not aware because it happens unconsciously. I think you’ve encountered of this line before, “I need to find myself first,”  which arises from the lack of knowledge of one’s self. 

People look on different places, only to find in the end, that the answer lies within themselves all along. Have that interest for self-discovery and make yourself your own puzzle, be ever hungry for it as the nature of your curiosity dictates.

There’s this saying, “The unexamined life, is not worth living.” if that should ever be the measure of wealth, those who have invested in knowing themselves with greater depth must be utterly rich! 

Into the light (Short Story)

TITLE: Into the Light
WRITTEN: 5th, December 1998
AUTHOR: Frances Novelle David


She has suffered long enough. She finally finds her way into the light.

CERISE sat on her bed with her knees pulled up to her chest. Upon her knees rest a book where she placed a piece of blank paper; pen poised upon the smooth surface. The scratching sound of pen against paper sounded faintly as she wrote the first few sentences of her letter only to crumple it and tossed it into the overflowing bin where it joined the other rejects. She let out a deep breath she wasn't aware she was holding and stretched her legs as she lay down. She closed her eyes and regretted it almost immediately as unwanted memories played like a silent movie in the darkness.



The first scene was that of the day she was born. It was not her own memory, of course but one conjured from her father's stories.

Her Mom was sitting on a hospital bed, cradling her to her chest. The older woman smiled down to her beautiful baby as she cooed, "Cerise," while pecking the baby's red lips and rosy cheeks. She had just named her. Cerise. Cherry.

The scene blurred and changed into another one. Fifteen years after the first scene. Ah, this one, sadly, was from her own memory. There was no way she could deny it happened.

It was one of those nights. Daddy was out the whole week on a seminar somewhere out of town and Mommy was late as usual, spending too many hours at work. It was almost midnight and she had decided to sleep when she heard the front door open and Mommy's hushed giggling reached her ears followed by a male voice she did not recognize. She stiffened when giggles became moans and thinking that the man might be hurting Mommy, she tip-toed out of her room to check. But she froze upon reaching the top of the staircase. Mommy was pushed against the wall, her arms around the man who was certainly not Daddy while they kissed. She may be young but she wasn't stupid. She covered her mouth with her hands but a whimper escaped her lips. Two heads snapped towards her in unison, eyes wide.

"Hunny," Mommy called out to her - for the first time in ages using an endearment again. For years Mommy treated her as though she didn't exist and now, in the most awkward of circumstances did she choose to acknowledge her daughter's existence again.

Mommy ran up the stairs and enveloped Cerise in her arms but she swatted them away while tears rolled freely down her face. There was a struggle as Mommy tried again and again to touch her whilst she refused to relent. Alas, Cerise's left foot slipped and she fell. The last thing she could remember was a blinding pain in her head before darkness took her.

Like the first one, this scene faded and changed into a new one. It was some time after that fateful night. She woke up in her room with a headache and it took her a few moments to remember what had caused it. She was not sure how long she had been unconscious but she was just glad to still be alive. Then she heard voices. Mommy and Daddy were fighting. She heard Daddy yelling, "It's all your fault!" over and over again while Mommy wailed like a hog being slaughtered. Wincing, she got out of bed and went out of her room. She got downstairs just in time to see Daddy leaving. She ran to him and begged him to stay but it was like he didn't hear her at all. Cerise sobbed helplessly as Daddy's car drove away. Mommy had stopped crying and went to her room, locking herself up. The next day she woke up early, dressed and left for work. She didn't even bother to say bye. So Cerise went to the kitchen and prepared herself some food. It went on like that for two years. Mommy treated her daughter like a ghost. It was like they were in the same place but not in the same dimension.

But tonight, it had to stop. She grabbed her pen and wrote on a fresh piece of paper, "Goodbye, Mommy. I love you." She folded the paper as she left her room and entered Mommy's quietly then placed the note on the bedside table, kissed Mommy softly on her forehead, and went downstairs to the front door.

She pulled it open and a bright light greeted her. She had no idea what it was but she felt like she should step through the door and straight into the light. She did and closed the door behind her.