Onto Writing and Battling My Anxious Thoughts

I started writing because I want to prove to everyone I can be a writer.

Midway, I write because I simply love what I'm doing. Writing opened a world of new experiences, new people, and new friends.

Moving on, doubts hit me in the face the first time. Days passed, and anxiety and OCD almost crippled my writing career as they whispered lies. I made an enemy out of myself, and when you are your own enemy, you may recognize a lie for what it is, but it will be difficult to make yourself believe that they are just a lie. 

There were pauses and long breaks. Readers asking when there will be a new update. They've been waiting for half a year or more. Deep inside, I answered, I still want to write, but the magic's gone. These days, I can barely feel myself feeling. I was terrified and relieved of being numb. I was terrified of myself and the things I can do when I go numb.

"Where are you and why am I doing this again?"

Vague questions. 

But then it's when you are at the lowest points where you find fuels for creativity. Where you start seeing again the reasons and results. 

The smartphone I have on my hands right now, the phone I'm using to type these words, was bought in cash because of a deal I have with an international publisher for one of my works. I have two precious bracelets which remind me of two notable people I met because I never stopped writing. For the first time, I have savings from sales of my poetry zines I never want to spend.

People call me a writer. Yes, these stories and poems I write are not for everyone, but for those who are meant to read these words and find pieces of themselves in them, it is an instrument that can help save themselves. 

Pause and breathe when in doubt. Realize that just like a butterfly effect, all decisions even the good and bad, led to where you are right now. Don't let those lies stop you from doing these things you love. 

And you start seeing not with your own eyes but beyond the façade the world of deceit is trying to portray.

The Lady on the Roadside

I love cooking. It's the only household chore I wanna do. 

This is the stage of my life wherein I'm having an early major crisis. Considering I'm an anxious person, it's bound to happen soon anyway. Trying to make a living out of an apartment you do not own, in a city of over-priced goods, and an environment filled with almost all types of pollution...is difficult. Cooking with the utensils you have and their alternatives is an effective stress-reliever.

But this really isn't about cooking or me even if I've already written a paragraph about it. This is about the kindness of an old lady.

Her vegetables are arranged on a mat lying on the roadside. They are better in quality and with a much more reasonable price. If you see old ladies or gents like her, buy from them simply because THEY NEED YOUR HELP. Let's not go to other topics but focus instead on empathy. How our acts can help those in dire need. 

I bought the quantity of veggies I needed from her, and I was on my way back when I heard her call my attention, twice. She then rushed to me when I approached and gave one more bunch of pechay, saying,

"Baka masayang lang 'to."

This might just be wasted..

That bunch of leaves was not in a bad condition. There were yellowing portions but I can still consider them as marketable.

I thanked her with sincere gratitude and kinda felt bad that the amount I bought from her was just small. But I promised, in the future while I'm still here and I plan to cook again, I'll look for her. Almost at the same time, at the same place, just to be sure I will be able to buy from this kind lady again.

She reminds me of survival and kindness. That the world might try to take away the goodness in our hearts, but just like what My Chemical Romance had written on their song Welcome to the Black Parade,

"Because the world will never take my heart.."

I'm certain, it will never win. Something good will still remain even if you felt you're terribly empty and fucked up.

And that my friend is usually the most important. For the old lady, it's kindness that remains and will remain forever. 

Why March is SO SPECIAL

Books are the answer but I'm going to narrow it down...

MUCH AWAITED BOOKS. Been waiting for years since they were first announced, and this March brothers and sisters, I will be able to read them FINALLY!

I'm sure there are other great reads on March I will definitely explore but for these two books...THEY MEAN "LIFE" TO ME.

First, we have "House of Earth and Blood" by Sarah J. Maas.

Auto-buy, rank 1 favorite author. I've read her A Court of Thorns & Roses and Throne of Glass series back when I was just learning to fight my inner battles. My mind shattered, these stories helped me LIVE when daily survival was a struggle. 

Her stories are like permanent pillars I lean on to every time I'm lost. On every stages of my life, they are always with me. These fictional characters, this fictional world, is where I learn how it is like to be human. Her stories taught me that kindness wins wars and saves souls. Empathy makes the cruel world bearable. And everything is not just a matter of black and white. MORALLY-GREY, multi-dimensional perspective? MY.OXYGEN. (one of the many)

With this new series, imagine my joy. Tears are threatening to fall right now because I'm certain that this new story is another God-sent gift to help me live my life. 

And then there's "Chain of Gold" by Cassandra Clare. 

There's something with the Shadowhunter world that couldn't be washed off, especially on the timeline before The Mortal Instruments. These stories stick with you and wouldn't let go. Cassie is also a master of triggering emotions. If she wants you to cry, you will be a sobbing mess. She directly hit the nerve so hard with the way she strings events and words that it will definitely leave a permanent mark.

With this book, we are going back to the timeline where Will Herondale, one of the most popular characters (FOR A REASON) in the fantasy literature, is still alive ( DAAAAAAMMMMNN I WANNA CRY AGAIN), with Tessa (omaygash Tessa huhuhuhu) and Jem (Jemmmm Jemmmmm~~! 😭)! I can't event write properly whenever I think of these characters from The Infernal Devices.

Cassandra Clare is a master of making her readers fall in love with her characters so much we consider them real. In my case, I prefer them over most of the real people I knew 😏 

"We live multiple lives, not just one, because we love to read.."

With these two books and the rest of my favorite stories, the quote above is proven true. 

Find a comfortable corner to slump and then read, life is MUCH BETTER. Reality becomes bearable. We are stronger in real life because we apply what we have learned in fiction. 

Proud to say, I am a better human being every time I read a great story. 

BLTX Year 9 : another successful event

Went earlier than what I've sort of plotted inside my mind. 

From GMA, saw the jamboree tower from afar and I decided to just walk rather than take a jeepney that ain't supposed to head straight to my destination.

Why take a ride together in the first place when you're never meant to go to the same destination anyway?! (Oooookaaay that's totally out of topic HA HA HA)

So yup. Walked from GMA. Passed these bars and cafe still looking abandoned at that time. Read from articles this place comes alive at night. No wonder. It was the usual city setting. The smell of piss, dog and human shits scattered on the pavements, the unfortunates begging for alms on the street...what's new?

Ate at a diner probably owned by a popular artist. Sorry not sorry, their service sucks. Order arrived too late. They actually forgot to cook my meal. If I didn't follow up,  I would have starved for a long time. Take note there were few customers and they still missed my order, my already paid order 😑

Regardless, it still didn't stop that magical wonder whenever I'm on an unfamiliar place. 

Party isn't my thing. When I found out there are no nearby interesting place aside from the scout tower whose history made me teary-eyed, I headed early to the venue of BLTX year 9.

Cozy place, nice folks who GET IT why people like me write...create, air-conditioned, multiple perspectives against the norms, kind seatmates, it was a promising start.

It became so crowded around 8-9 PM and that's only when I fully realized that this event is one of the biggest and well-known events in the zine/indie world...and I'm part of it. 

Writing this down, I'm transported back to that very first zine event. An event I participated because why not, got nothing to lose but too much to share and give. The challenge is finding these people who are willing to risk their time and money to read ME. 

Did you find them? Yes. 

Did they make you happy? Yes.

Did they make you realize what is it like to truly live? 

YES 

I wouldn't be writing this, I wouldn't be confirming my attendance for Komiket 2020 if...I didn't feel something worth risking.

Going back to BLTX...

Reminders series was a hit. Vol. 2 & 3 sold out. As for vol. 1, sold quite a number compared to my previous fairs. Sold pieces out of every titles I have.

There's this guy who bought Reminders 3 probably because of song recommendations from All Time Low and Sleeping with Sirens, I approved 😆

Another shocking happening about Reminders 3 is the drawing...the scribble. People actually complimented those scribbles. Hopefully, they didn't say that just not to bruise my already wounded feelings (whaaaat 🙄) but my gut's telling me they are actually sincere. 

There's this girl who stormed my area and bought my 2 poetry collections and the Burning Bright print. Gave her my other print for free because she's awesome!

There are orgs from my uni and every time people from UPLB meet each other, we're instantly friends! He pointed out my fake flowers decoration and was like,

"Really girl?!" 

I replied,

"Why not? At least these don't wither at all."

Tired of shits that wither (really, Emina 😐)

One of the organizers bought the last copy of Reminders 2, saying she would love to have the last copy, sweet!

Also glad to meet these readers who found aesthetic and sustainability on the newsprint paper I used for my 2nd poetry collection.

There are others, couldn't clearly remember them all unfortunately, and I'm thankful for all of them. Overall, it was a fast-paced crowd. Crowds like this ain't usually for the kind of zine I produce. Still, there is a good number of strangers, fellow readers, and creatives, who bought my works. 

In the end, went home satisfied. Tired, feeling sick, but inspired once again. New ideas are coiling and I'm excited to turn them all into reality. 

There are things that don't make sense. Things creating doubts but...not even my worst nightmares have stopped me before once I've decided I'm going to pursue something.

Someday

Someday

I'll fully heal and find my missing pieces

Someday

One day

I'll make you smile

And you will make me feel

Someday

As certain as dawn and dusk

We will burn bright together

And finally

I will learn how to stay

Because you will never give me reasons

To leave

Someday

Someday.

Unexpectedly Inevitable

We go to places with a goal in mind. Expectations all set. Finite. 

Predictable. 

In our heads at least.

I went to this event thinking I'll only be fulfilled if I sold copies. Most fulfilled if I sold out everything.

But my sales today, ever since I started on this industry of marketing my works, is ZERO. 

But here I am right now, writing this entry, stomach full at Bonchon somewhere in BGC...

Happy, content, accomplish, thankful, BLESS.

Because I won a big raffle prize. Explored a new interesting community. Bought a book which could be a great literary piece from a publishing company I now highly look up to. 

And met a new friend.

My dilemma of zero sales today has been eradicated because of her (she knows why hahaha). 

We just clicked like a slipper who found a pair. (PS: I don't know why I used slipper of all symbolism HAHAHAHA maybe we have great adventures together in the future?) 

I have a resting bitch face but she saw beyond this facade. We discovered we both came from UPLB and felt the vibes strongly from someone molded by UP. She works for a publishing company, provided sound advice, offered help for my future plans to publish paperback with them, was my companion almost throughout the afternoon.

She's this girl with a melodic voice, smart, kind, talented. She's a boost to the writer in me because of her sincere support. Of her wide vision. Because although our situations are completely different, when I showed her my works, SHE.RESONATES.WITH.THEM.

She can see a herself in a way different from the way I see mine when I wrote those compositions.

This is the power of literature. It's magic. The magic to connect people no matter where they come from. Regardless of their conditions in life.

UPLB is hell at the same time it is heaven. This campus triggered my worst nightmares but also helped carve the real me so I can start dreaming again. 

She said it is as if we are long time friends.

I agree.

Told her maybe in another life. I could have met her earlier in that life.

We are friends now anyway.

She is an explanation to the world of memoir. That she writes memoir because of fleeting memories. Because forgetting can be scary. Forgetting can be one of the worst things that could happen especially to a memory of something or someone precious to you. 

In this way, we are of the same tribe. I also don't wish to forget that's why I write. 

This publishing company, Central Books, was also so kind to give freebies even before I buy something from them. I bought this one particular poetry book later on called Breakaways for I have this feeling I will love this after I browsed some pages. 

I don't want to forget this feeling. I don't particularly want to forget these moments I spent with my new friend. 

We expected something else. We found something different. But the ending is all the same when you're doing something you love. Risking because it is worth it.

Those moments compiled in hours is another village in the map of my journey. 

Unfamiliar. New. Shrouded in mystery.

But I went anyway, passed the gate of another unknown, and although what I feared have actually turned into reality, it failed to scare me. It failed to bring me down. It failed to become a fear.

Because I just didn't know back then that I am supposed to stumble on something that is different from my expectations. 

And despite of this difference, it didn't change the prize I was always meant to claim at the end of the day...

Blessings.

And in all of the many blessings I received throughout this day, that which stands out the most out of them all is this blessing in the form of a true friend. 

May we have more memories together, Elaine. Though memories are fleeting, because we write, we own the power of words.

We can make anything, anyone, immortal.

We live to write, share, and inspire (AFK Print and Zine Fair Diary Records)

I didn't know I was making a zine when I first completed the first draft of my first entry in this industry. 

Two or three months ago, I was in this state of disarray. Almost everything was black again. It was dark. I have eyes but couldn’t see. Everyone was saying they are going to be there when it rains, that they’re going to offer shelter when there’s a storm, but they just reminded me again why most people I’ve met so far are a bunch of great liars, whether consciously or not. 

The house they promised is built on lies.

The clock was ticking and I was this fire relying on a candle wax and oxygen. I was melting not in a good way. I know there was this gas I need around me but knowing isn't enough when it’s dark. 

Somewhere in this field painted in all black, I ended up finding myself writing. Because I bring pen and paper almost everywhere. Those times, thanks God, I didn’t forget. 

Writing on times when it is too much is always so easy. I ended up creating poems, quotes, short stories, essay, even drawings. And when opportunity came for a fair where I can actually market these things I wrote, I asked myself why not? I’ve never done that before. And what to lose when you got nothing in the first place? When every single thing is temporary they'll all fade anyway?

So I went. That's my first zine fair (you may check my other blog post about Komura black & white zine fair, sorry for the ad but can’t help it 😂 ).

You can’t really conclude without comparison, I guess. Because in my case, the second zine fair I went to is GREAT. Great is one of my favorite words. If I call you great, that means you're a freaking legend. Big deal? Yes. Very.

The location was remote I was worried if there will be enough  visitors, especially those who'll find my work interesting and relatable. But life proved me wrong. The crowd we had, a large crowd at that, was varied enough that there I met these very memorable existence. There I read stories from walking books in the form of humans. There I met you. There I was reminded of my purpose in this journey. There I knew I was living for those moments.

Reminders vol. 2 sold out. I made 10 copies. Brought 9 to the event because 1 is reserved for Zine Orgy this November. Never expect people would like that medium. One of them called it an “envelope zine,” which I think is a suitable name for it compiles a short story, poem, essay, letter, and a sticker encase in a red envelope. It made me learn how presentation can influence contents which of course I’ll make use for my future outputs. I had 4 works on the market that time and I was able to sell copies for each of them. 

I made someone cry. Not because I’m a bully or something similar but because he said that is the first time in a long time someone reminded him why he should pursue his dreams in the field of writing. He was wearing glasses, so when he took it off to wipe tears, I don’t know exactly how I felt. I felt accomplished probably. That's one of the purpose. To inspire someone like me and make him believe again that HE CAN. No amount of money can buy that moment. Words are even lost to me to completely describe how I felt. All I know is it was magic. 

There I met the sister of my soul. I heard her accent and I knew she was from Australia. Before that event, she didn’t have any idea what a zine is. She just stumbled at Intramuros, saw something interesting happening on the upper floor and went with the flow. She complimented my spoken English (I still can’t believe she did because I'm terrible at conversation), bought a lot of my stuff with a generous tip (first tip ever!), and though that is her first time in my world, she understands, SHE KNEW. We stay connected and I plan to be her little sister “from another mister” (her words) for a long time.

I also met this girl who was looking for an inspiration to write something. She was also very interested in writing her own piece and attending zine events as vendor in the future. She was so sweet and sincere and I want to help her. I would very much love to be a guide to someone because taking the path I chose, alone and risky, is a cold road and definitely not for everyone.

Finally, I met my long-time Wattpad reader. She was my reader since 2014 or 2015. I thought she was from metro manila, so when she said they came from Pampanga just to see me…I wanted to cry on the spot. I was nervous at first, online could be different from the real one. But we talked, she bought all of my works out of money she saved for that event. She also gave me this bracelet she treasures a lot. Passing one of your most treasured items to someone? That's a feat I’ll only do if I equally treasure them both! We talked about our demons and how faith and literature help us save ourselves. 

My big sister and this special reader, both of them gifted me bracelets. Bracelets I will treasure forever. (PS: I just panicked yesterday when I left one at the CR.) 

There are these that remain and I wouldn’t be able to write everything but it doesn’t mean they are less important. Some, I would like to keep a secret 😉 Some, I trust to remain in my sub-conscious and unconscious 😂 I’m very thankful and blessed I met all of those people, felt all of those emotions, at AFK Print & Zine Fair.

And by buying my zines and print, by talking with me, I hope you all find something which can help you save yourself.

"Because that's what we do...

Self-redirection...

Self-healing." 

- where it is always winter, vol. 1

Dedication

I don't allow happiness to last.

It fades so easily just like these people I treasured who disappear eventually. 

Happiness is the price of risking. Doing a great job. The price of accomplishment. Sunrise. One of the results of love.

But it rarely provides lessons. 

I can count it in my hands, those times happiness actually made me learn something. Right now, it made me think if I ever write something all because I'm happy.

Maybe I did but I can't remember. It is pain that always marks. 

A name keeps on hunting me wherever I go. The wounds this name left won't just heal. I'm sick of seeing this name even on my most favorite places or on sacred realms like my dreams. 

It then turned into hatred. Hatred that snaps out this fire of peace. Hatred that fuels creativity. 

On times I'm not happy, there are cases I chose not to be. Because that is the condition where everything is in entropy. Entropy leads to chaos inside me. This chaos makes it easier to understand the different forms of chaos around. And chaos is everywhere, especially in the hearts of humans. 

I need the state of disorder. I need chaos. 

Chaos then is the ember of my creative fire. It is the means to write, and by partnering words, I am creating a temporary order. An order that aligns the thought in my mind and others who are like me.

And once there's complete acceptance, once I can now finally see, that's where it all settles down. 

I'm finally calm again.

Not because I'm done.

I'm just preparing for the next wave of disruption. 

("Where it is always winter," vol. 1)