Thursday, February 3, 2011


I really want my first blog to be of some importance, but I guess we do not really get what we want in life, for apparently, this is the most useless junk ever written. So don’t read it unless you’re terribly bored.

I love diaries. I think everyone should keep one. Of course, it’ll be hard to convince boys, or some people who hate writing or getting emotional. The thing is: there’s really not a rule on diaries saying it must have flowery or emotional words. So I got into this habit, giving a diary as a gift, whenever I have the chance.

On the other hand, I just hate planners. I hate getting life organized. It is never meant to be planned out on a small notebook, or even a large one for that matter. When you have a planner and you read it sometime later on in your life, you will see highly important meetings and birthdays and flag ceremonies. You will see very few experiences written, and even fewer people.
But diaries. They’re just wonderful. Sometimes heartbreaking, terrifying, embarrassing, but that makes it all the more beautiful. For a diary entry will say more about that big boss firing you without good reason, and that birthday turning out to be a day early by mistake, or how you were probably late on that flag ceremony and you caught you crush smiling teasingly at you. Diaries will not remind you of the things you have failed to do, which is a planner’s tendency. But it will read out to you all that you have done. Not necessarily the most important, life-changing events. Just the everyday tidbits. Just the tiny details we tend to ignore. Just all that really mattered.

They say it’s not good to keep a diary. Or at least, they tell you to skip writing the bad parts of your life. That it’s a bad practice. That it’s like clinging to yesterday, not moving on, blahblahblah. For me, that’s not really true. Those things, may it be good or bad, they already happened. So nothing is really gonna happen when you write it on a piece of paper. We should accept this very crucial fact. That we don’t have the reverse button in real life. Accept the past and have the bravery to record it. Don’t blame it for anything, not for the present or the future. It has nothing to do with the both of them. Well, that’s not really true, but putting all the charge on the past, it’s like underestimating what the present can do. One day, the present will become the past, so live it the way you want to live it and just ignore everything else. 

When I was young, I auditioned for the glee club. I did not get in the first time, so I tried for the second audition, and tried again for the third. I never got in, so guess what? I never sang in front of a crowd again. I blame my yesterday, because the humiliation I have gone through was traumatizing, etc. Then one day, I realized that the problem is not about me having that “very bad” past, it’s because I keep on using that “very bad” past when I simply could disregard it, throw it into yesterday’s bin. Or even turn it into something “very good”.  Control the past, don’t let it control you.

It’s one principle I picked up from someone.  I’m not really asking you to pick it up from me. I guess there are really occurrences that make marks, some beautiful, some ugly, certainly irremovable. But there’s the whole point again, we can’t turn back time –that’s a famous and very true saying. It’s good we keep something to remind us what that mark was all about. It’s not good having scars and forgetting where we got them. That’s the time when they become totally useless.'

That’s another talent of a diary. Through it, we see that nothing that has ever happened was ever useless, and that we didn’t just see rightly at that time. I course through my diary and I am just amazed of all the things that have happened to me, and to think I’m thinking my life is pretty boring. When you’re bored, all you have to do is do something, really. 
I don’t know why people are so forgetful. It’s like our long-term memories are for extreme occasions only. And that’s seldom. If not, we remember bad times, which is just unfair. It’s impossible, not to have one good memory, not to have had fits of laughter... we just have to remember well.

And being human, I admit I really don’t remember well. I actually always forget where I place my eyeglasses. And sometimes, I forget what uniform to wear to school. Or what the date is. It’s crazy, that’s why maybe: diaries became a really good friend of mine.

My diary started out as a reminder notebook. In case you don’t know, it’s the notebook where you write all the assignments you have to pass or all the tasks you have to do. Right, I know, it’s almost like a planner. But I told you I hate planners, so I started doodling on my guide notebook. And from doodles, the words just came out. That’s how we met. :)

A paper. It will listen to you. It will be silent. It will accept everything you have to say and make you end all your sentences. It will never attempt to give advice nor will it betray your secrets to anyone. For people like me, it’s the perfect best friend.

The funny thing is, and this usually happens to me, when I write a problem on a paper, something that actually confuses me, it’s like my head is suddenly cleared. Perhaps because everything is jotted down, my thoughts are suddenly organized. And I find the answers coming to me out of nowhere. It’s really comforting.  

Once, I was writing, “I hate my mom. She scolded me for treating my sister badly. I was not to be blamed, am I? I just...” Then I stopped. Of course I poured my dog’s water on my sister’s face, and surely I’m to be scolded. This kind of realizations hit me always. If there is one thing diaries don’t consider, its mistakes. Diaries taught me to write my story so I could spot what is wrong about it. Then live it right.
I sort of regret that lately, I dropped out of the diary habit. I guess I encountered a lazy phase in my life. But I think that’s presumably ordinary. One time or another, a person gets tired of his or her diary, the way people sometimes get tired of old friends. But since you’ve started doing diaries, you’ll never really stop for the rest of your life, maybe occasionally, but never forever. 
I guess quitting my diary temporarily was helpful, for I spent all that time reading all my old entries. It’s like doing a kind of retreat. Believe it or not, one day, especially if you’ve already grown a lot, you’ll read your diary as a different person, as if you weren’t the one who wrote those words. And you’ll be reminded of... old times. 


Reminds you of how the principal always scolds you for being late, how you seemed to be a hopeless romantic falling head over heels for a guy who’s not even your friend, how you fell for your best friend, how you fought with your best friend for he’s having a new best friend that ended up as your best friend too, how your used to like drinking the cold tea called Simple Life after playing volleyball with some of your friends, how your sister once cut your favorite Barbie doll’s hair, that you play Barbie dolls (!), that one of your Barbie dolls was named after your favorite cousin Jennifer, that you miss that cousin now that she’s already working, how you sneak out eating while the teacher discusses, how you always liked English class, how you’re a total sucker at arts, how your parents fought, how your parents got back together, how you cried under a jacket during camping because you’re really tired and sad, how you used to dream of being married and having four kids when you were four years old, how you used to love reading Zodiac signs predictions, how you promised you will never change your religion, how you doubted God, how you cried to God... how you were sad once, and that you were also happy once...

Diaries remind you of the person you used to be. That girl, or boy. That kid, innocent of life’s tricks, just learning, still unharmed, thinking she know it all, but ending up stumbling over a tiny pebble. Standing up. Taking one step at a time. That girl, or boy. That kid, who never seem to surrender. It’s like talking to the child in you. Diaries remind you of who you truly are. And because of that, diaries don’t just remind you of old times. It also reminds you of this time, this hour, this minute, this second that passes by as you reach the period of this sentence. It reminds you of today. Of your current life.

It’s really like a reminder notebook. Reminds you of your thoughts, ideas, things you want to do but have not yet done. Reminds you of the friends you have lost that maybe you could call, or friends that you still have but fail to value. Reminds you that time is very powerful, that you may think your life is horrible at this point, and sometime later realize that it’s just plain messy, and messy in a funny sort. Gives you hope, tells you a lot of things. 

As for me, a voice that almost came with a shrug, said: Life is not so bad after all.

Judy Abbott did it. Anne Frank did it. They say everyone has a story to tell, and that’s right. But stories fade away, just like dreams do when we wake up. And diaries, they’re like dream-catchers. They catch stories, keep it in a close fist that would later on open to reveal a butterfly sitting on a calloused palm. Write your story. Very few, brave people could do it. And well, some very bored people too. :)

Love, rc.

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