There is an unconscious tinge of newness in me, and the realization struck me in a less intimidating way  compared to a bullet train. A light slap. A little twinkle. It came mildly, gently, unlike being stunned by face after taking snap on a modern phone camera, which has its own beauty shot and I appeared pore-less, large-eyed and less-crinkled—although I do have few lines. Today, the striking part was a dedication to “choose what your heart is set against, and run away with it,” like a full rebel, not only to the world, but also to myself. I have proven that taking the opposite of my choice (yes, I went against my likings) is a good decision.


Part 1: the kids’ song. I have, always, been a “pusher” of pre-story singing, because it gets children in the mood for listening, like it switches on a happy spirit, especially with the kids at NV9. I, on this day in particular, did not want to lead the singing at first, because I, last night, have decided to write a new song on a crumpled sheet of manila paper. There was a tugging that, no need, we’re doing communion anyway, you can save the time with the story. But my mind answered back, as if telling, fuck off, get on and go with the risk, who knows what might happen?

So I disregarded one part of me, took the might, introduced the lyrics, and then, suddenly, pushed myself to run off back to the car to get my phone and had the song played via Bluetooth. The reaction was phenomenal: the kids were ecstatic! Even the teens joined in the song too! I never realized that this was a new experience to them, song and music and all. And besides, who’d like to forever bear with my wrong-key piano?

The story-telling was also a blast; it’s all about Santa Claus and the myth behind the name. I enjoyed, whispering through the microphone with an added air of mystery: “I’ll tell you a secret, Santa Claus is true.” Well, my dearest lads and lasses, it’s such a sad thing we don’t have chimneys to have some brave, rich man throwing blessing through our roofs.

Part 2: the drive back home made me realize I should drive. Not because I’ll buy a car or even I wanted it, but the desire to add something to myself, successful or not, is an experience. Earlier, on love, I just had an idea to try out things, not because it’s the one, but because through the process—the finding, the unraveling, the hurting, the choosing—I’m going to find it. I can’t always stay having my doors closed.

Here I say, my doors are open for the knocking.

I am an erratic person. I have sudden fears and phobias attacking me in every corner of my physical and intellectual and emotional space. I believe in the impermanence of things, but at times, I am finding it, ever so hard, to accept it. The fighting is a day-by-day process, and I’m doing my best each and every time. I think, somehow, that since I know where I am, I know how to move forward.

Honesty is key.

2016 is the start of a new chapter for me, in all sense and being. I am excited, afraid, hopeful, daunting, romantic, skeptic, and so on. I am a mix of everything. But at this moment, I am learning to see the world in a blank canvass, an empty space, where I have not written anything on a bucket list, but to embrace what life will throw at me, and if I find something I want, I will run with it with all of my might.

The Weekend Closing: Celebrating the doors we need to close to get to the ones we need to open.