Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Thursday, February 21, 2008
The first time I stepped in my kindergarten class marked the beginning of my history in writing. It began with writing the alphabet. My teacher was a petite lady, well-known for her patience. We were a perfect match as I took twice as long as my classmates just to write A-Z. She would take up all of the papers and then slowly turn around. Then came the stare; a stare I came to know very well. I would look back at her with an exaggerated innocence and quietly ask, "How does my paper look?" I knew even at that tender age that my letters looked better than everyone else’s. At this early stage, I developed enthusiasm that has lasted throughout the years. I would finish a writing task and when I finished it, which is more often than not, it would take a special and qualified person to truly appreciate it.During my elementary years, from grades one through six produced nothing more than a long and dormant period of writing. I was just like Bermuda grass that turns brown all winter long and then greens up in the spring. I finally came out of dormancy in my first year in high school when again I met my grandma, who took a flight from Australia. In my eyes, she was halfway to perfection. But it was just about her wits. She was about five feet tall with large, soft, black eyes and short hair. I was just 2 inches shorter but that didn’t matter.
Every time I saw her, a tingling feeling would start in my stomach similar to the sensation of racing around that sharp, fast turn on a giant roller-coaster at the amusement park. Not only was she physically aggressive, she was also a vibrant human-being with strong personality. Right then when I realized that I want to be like her, a woman of wits. She has a career of various interests, a journalist in the Philippines (during Marcos’ regime) and in Australia, a terror professor, a lawyer, a pianist and an interior designer. I look up to her as a versatile career woman and as a mother. I was her favorite grandchild, and we would sit together and talk about everything. Much to my surprise she never tired of my constant attention. One remarkable tribute was her ability to express meaning as well as describe people she had encountered or objects she had seen. I always listened intently. Throughout her stay here in the Philippines, I went out of my way to learn more from her about things that will help me be inspired in reaching my goals, which is becoming a journalist tops my list. That was before when I was kinda innocent…
My experience during my high school was in some way profound. It wasn’t so much the fact that I thought my stay in high school was so spectacular. What was amazing was the emotional response that my achievement could summon from some members in my clan. All year long, I had seemed somewhat friendly. I have earned the care and love from my friends in the class and even from other class sections. Perhaps they had little time for sentimental thoughts of the finer things we had (wink!)
It appeared that our friendship had somehow transformed as least temporarily when we enter college, where we traverse separate tracks towards our future career. But I know that is just temporarily like what a friend of mine has told me, "That’s all right, Tel. She then gave a somewhat less-than-thunderous slap on my shoulder. Not very soft, but it was an improvement. This gave me a comfortable feeling.
Well, after high school I embarked another level of thinking. My writing habit has begun to absorb inks of my pens. I even joined the publication to somehow dream that I am at least on my first step in becoming like my grandma, a journalist (sigh!Attention and congratulations from people around me have become a part of my college years as well. I was completely captivated with writing and speaking which required a unique combination of flexibility, strength, grace and poise. I slowly improved my skills.
But at this point, I now realized that true wits is often hidden and concealed. The skills utilized during my activities still manifest itself in my own character. (To be continued hahaha!)
Thursday, February 14, 2008
I was just a little girl then when I witnessed how artistic my clan was. I've looked up to my grandfather (the late Arch. Raul Atos Corral) - this post is dedicated to you my dear lolo. At young age, I told myself that I want to be an architect. I admired him so much by merely looking at him, sitting in front of his large table with different kinds of pen, coloring materials, triangle, a very long ruler, and also a large white paper where he did the light but fast strokes. As you look over the drawing, you'll see series of lines that can't be understand by a young girl like me, or even those who aren't fond of drawing. Until my dad came and told me not to disturb my lolo.
My dad and I went to the sala, and there he told me some ideas about what my Lolo's career was. I asked him a lot of questions so he decided to teach me the basic strokes in drafting a house. My dad was also an architect for me though he wasn't able to finish it in college. We started outlining the floor plan, then we moved on to the "perspective". I was really amazed when I saw the outcome of our drawing. It was just an ordinary house, but what amazed me was the fact that we only started it with series of lines which you may not think it'll become a "house". Since then, I kept myself locked in my room, doing several floor plans and simple perspectives, which were already a masterpiece for a little girl.
Years later, my loving lolo died. It hurts us so much. But just the thought of his kindness (as his first grandchild) uplifts my heart. One thing that instills in my mind and heart is the way he inspired me. Yes, I was really inspired to be an architect. I may not have a degree in architecture, but I know deep in my heart, I am longing to be like one.
I am continuously inspired when it comes to architecture because of my dad. He followed the career path of my grandfather. It feels good whenever I see my lolo's green book which is a compilation of all his blue prints, his masterpieces. My dad is also compiling his own since I was a kid, and I'm his critic.
I also shared my ideas on interior designs. Yes, aside from architecture, I'm also fond of interior designs. I think I'll pursue the latter since my dad doesn't want me to be an architect. But whatever happens, dreaming will always be a part of me...
I also shared my ideas on interior designs. Yes, aside from architecture, I'm also fond of interior designs. I think I'll pursue the latter since my dad doesn't want me to be an architect. But whatever happens, dreaming will always be a part of me...
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Reminiscing the past uplifts my spirit...
I was kinda innocent then when all I know is to roll over the bed, giggle and smile at my parents, and of course, to drink what I am supposed to drink (nax! model of enfalac aketch!)...
If only I could turn back time, I would want the clock to tick-tack on the time when I was in a whirlwind of innocence I'd rather be innocent of what the world is all about than absorb the blows of life's sorrow!
I was kinda innocent then when all I know is to roll over the bed, giggle and smile at my parents, and of course, to drink what I am supposed to drink (nax! model of enfalac aketch!)...
If only I could turn back time, I would want the clock to tick-tack on the time when I was in a whirlwind of innocence I'd rather be innocent of what the world is all about than absorb the blows of life's sorrow!
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