Realism Creeping In

Was it just me? Or was it gone too soon?
Were all those just delusions? Or did those things actually decide to stop altogether?
Was I really meant to cross the river? Or was there never really a river to begin with?
Was it actually there? Or was it, just like everything else, a dream too that I shouldn't have had?


I knew it. I shouldn't have had stepped on that tiny platform which turned out to be too weak to handle exuberance, and false hopes too artificial, and too heavy to carry.

Still, I also do not know if that platform was real or just a trick of my mind.

Tell me. Was it just me? Or was it - all of it - just gone too soon?

My Touchstone Autobiography

Again, I still do not have time to write in this blog for now. Crammed up in between my paper works and final requirements, I still believe it isn't right to just abandon this blog until I'm requirement-free. Since I discovered this piece amongst my long-forgotten folders, I might as well post it here. This is actually the autobiography I submitted when I became Touchstone for a brief moment. I do not write as well as the other two Touchstones do, but I still feel good just to reach this far. :)

P.S. I know, I called myself "Katherine" here. But what could I do? I do not just introduce myself as "Aine" to people who do not even know how to pronounce it correctly. So, yeah. Haha. Here you go.



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It was during that moment when she decided to give up on her childhood dreams of becoming an actress and a naturalist when she realized she had unconsciously loved both language and literature even before she had started those dreams.

Katherine was seven when she started writing poems for her parents. It was nothing fancy. She was not a prodigy like the kids we see on Promil and other milk ads. The poems she used to write were ones with the basic rhyme schemes as if they were Mother Goose's nursery rhymes' offsprings. Eventually, she put her love for writing poems on hold when she was towards the end of her grade school years – the time she realized she was barely good enough. After her graduation, there was only a brief and unnoticeable transition before she entered MSU-IIT Integrated Developmental School. Soon enough, her previous affair with literature had been strangled by her environment. Suddenly she was trained for the maths and sciences. Although it was somehow agonizing on her part to face numbers and scientific symbols the most part of the day, she obliged, and the only breather she had for the day was her English class.

For three long years she had convinced herself she'd be a naturalist, and do documentaries on the chimpanzees in the tropical rainforests of the Southeast. Almost. On her fourth year, she traced her steps back to her first love: writing, and this time, she didn't care. It was in this year that she had been loose of her chains. She began writing short stories and unfinished novellas and eventually filled her room with piles of cheap notebooks she calls “manuscripts”. It was a hobby she privately enjoyed, until the day she entered the world of filmmaking.

On her senior year, Katherine had written and directed a film, Checkmate, which made its way to Cinemagis, a regional film festival. She received the award for Best Director and was also chosen to be one of the delegates of CinemaRehiyon, a national film festival by NCCA. This was the moment she had been dubbed as Philippine's Youngest Independent Director, though she personally thinks it's no big deal since no more than a few people she knows care anyway. She kept that to herself for a while, like a Cinderella who just got home from the royal ball.

Sometimes, Katherine thinks, she just always was too early for anything. When she wanted to see the world for the first time, she was one month premature. Then when she wanted to read better, she started school early. Katherine wouldn't be eighteen until next year, and she's on her third year in college already. Ironically, she values time. She believes there is a time for everything, and the things in this life would eventually meet her at some point. All she has to do is wait.

It is in her weaknesses that she believes she shines the most, because by then it would not be she who is at work, but the Lord, Whom she takes her strength from. Like an ancient chant, she repeats this in her head everyday: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” And it's true. She does believe in it with all of her heart.

Katherine Aine Codas is a proud Subanon. Her roots could be traced back to the tribes living at the Zamboanga del Sur area. It was her father who taught her to embrace her identity because that was one of the things that made her special. She embraced her color, and eventually, the unusual stories about her ancestors both her dad and her grandfather used to tell her. She loves being a Filipina. She wants to write more about her native land. She dreams to showcase her culture through her works. She wants to write about her own people. She wants to look back at the real Philippines. As an English major, Katherine wishes to make known to the world what it still does not know about our country. She wants the world to see this beauty that had been hidden for so long. That is the legacy she wants to leave her fellow A.B. English students. She wants them to look back and search for that lost connection we used have with our native land. Our culture. Our arts. The traditions we had forgotten. And even our old stories. If we could never go back to it, at least we could share them to the world. Katherine believes that it is one of our roles as English majors to make the real “us” globally known.

Katherine is just an ordinary girl you might have even bumped into a couple of times, though you never seemed to notice. She might even be what people regard to as invisible. Although it does not bother her, she realized it maybe was time for her to shine the light. Yes. Maybe it was time for her lamp to be uncovered. She might not know how big the impact she would be making now she's a Touchstone of the month, but she would try to let the candle glow even brighter. Things, she believes, would be better.

She believes in change. She believes in light. She believes it never is too late for anything.

Whose Eyes Do You See Through?

I barely have any time to write my own post, but I just discovered this blog site through Google+, and I thought it was nice to share one of their posts. Recently, because of wrong talks, there was that short period of time I was cynical towards the people surrounding me. I heard rumors, and with my good intentions, it, in turn, clouded my eyes without me realizing it. The Lord, is quick to act, though, and He had granted me discernment and opened my eyes.

So, let's get to their blog post. Click here to check out their site.

There is an old phrase that says, "Perception is reality." What that means is that for many people what they see, or how they perceive things, is truth to them. The problem is that those people cannot accept truth beyond what they see, or think they see. For this person, their reality is based upon their point of view, or perspective of events.

Too many times in our lives we all fall into this category. We see a person or situation and quickly pass judgment without understanding that individual or the full story behind the situation. We make rash decisions, based on ignorance and assumption. When this happens, we find ourselves so far from the truth that we have a hard time finding our way back. 

So, to counter perceptions becoming reality, I ask you a question. Whose eyes do you see through? I am not talking about your physical eyes, because the answer is obvious. What I am asking is what filter do you use to process what you see with your eyes? Do you see events and make decisions based on your limited knowledge and understanding or do you stop and allow God to have input on the situation? 

One of my favorite Bible stories of all time is in 2 Kings 6. Elisha and his servant awake to find an enemy army surrounding the town and looking for them. In an incredibly natural response, the servant immediately allowed fear to take over. In his perspective, he was looking into the eyes of death.

Elisha responds the servant in verse 17 and says, "Open his eyes, Lord, so that he may see.” Then the Lord opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha."

Now, the chariots were there the entire time, the servant just could not see them with his natural eyes. He was not looking through the eyes of faith. His perspective was based on incomplete information because it did not factor in God.

I know 99.9% of us will never face the threat of an angry army, but that does not make our issues any less real. We faces financial issues, marital issues, family issues, work related issues, health issues, and many, many more that we have to deal with on an every day basis.

Our issues are very real, but we must not let that be our only perspective. We have to make the decision to look at our world through the eyes of faith. When we face an obstacle, our response should be the same as Elisha's and see it through the eyes of faith.

I encourage and challenge you to start to see your world and life differently. Ask God to let you see people the way He sees them. Let your faith in Him be the filter that you your world through.

Illusion and Reality part 1

Romanticism. Our American Literature professor mentioned it to us when we were discussing Stephen Crane and Edgar Allan Poe's works and Realism.

"The dangers of being an English major: we are too romantic (not of romance like we know it today). This is illusion. But THIS is reality," he said. He was not talking about "romance" the way most of the people today view it. This movement influenced us greatly even before we knew what reality was. It was a movement that emphasized on happy endings, heroes, victories in battles, and people who do not get hurt. Those were the dangers of being an English major.

"Ever since, we had always read books until we forgot reality," he added. "All we saw was beauty."

My question is: is this even enough reason to explain ourselves? Romanticism. Oh, Shakespeare, I've adored your works too much.

That chasm engulfs the once sunlit meadow

beyond the forest beneath the now-grey clouds, across paradise where the sun kisses the earth.

That cruel chasm. That emptiness the meadow calls cruel, torturous.

That cruel chasm. That lonely chasm.

It had been a mistake. It had been a skid of the foot.

But the wind stirs; it shoves the clouds, refills the open space.

The wind stirs and clears the smog. That choking smog, the meadow mutters.

And the meadow was then a meadow, no longer covered, no longer shaded.

It was back to being a meadow. Everything else then, now back to page one

And now, finally, back to zero.

-Aine

In Mid-air

Okay, so I was bored, even though I was supposed to be listening to one of my favorite mentors. Linguistics just suddenly seemed to become harder than Mathematics, I wasn't so sure if I got myself in the right course. Anyway, because I was practically almost clapping my palms over my ears, I wrote something that might be a cross between poetry and prose, or...I don't know. It's stressful to follow the conventions of poetry, you know, unless you're willing to compromise on writing about what you actually feel.

This probably is the most unconventional piece one could ever read (but not really). Solomon's Song of Songs just might had subconsciously inspired me to write this baby. :)

In Mid-air

Floating in mid-air, a groan escapes him.

Of fear. In agony. In pain of waiting. In uncertainty

Of tumbling down or of proceeding up.

Of climbing up, of seeking. Of walking.

Floating, due west.

"And when am I to proceed?" he asks. He floats.

"Dizziness overcomes. Fainting. I'm about to fall and let go of hope.

Fainting. In mid-air."

As long as the Lord keeps showering glitters on the dark skies each night,

She remains. She waits.

Waiting

as he floats and wades.

Floating. Wading. In mid-air. Towards her. In mid-air.

"How long until...he comes?" she asks. She waits.

"Fear overcomes. Of not being found. I'm about to fall and let go of hope.

Fainting. Barely waiting as he

Floats or faints. In mid-air."

To those who have nothing else to do and would want to analyze this, you may use the Reader's Response Criticism, but I do recommend New Historicism. Haha. Nah, whichever, I believe the meaning's too obvious, you wouldn't even bother to choose a theory to use here.

Take heart, readers in the wait. Both you and your soon-to-be's might be confused and still floating right now, but do not let it overcome you. Bow-waves may sweep past you, but never panic. The waves will pass; the rocks will show again.

<3 Aine