ADAMSONIAN

I didn’t know my blog was linked to this site so imagine my surprise when I saw it here…

I’ve always wanted to be a writer. As a kid I wrote numerous articles for our school paper (till I got to university) and even competed in inter-scholastic writing competitions. I was editor-in-chief of our school paper (senior year) and yearbook and a contributor to our underground paper (yeah, good times)… Back then writing was a passion. I had a diary. I wrote books. I wrote anything I could think of… poetry, letters, stories, articles, songs… I loved it. Writing was a necessity; it was a way of life. And I knew I was good at it. Or at least everyone made me think I was good at it.

I never realized Manila would alter that perception of mine about me…

I took up architecture because I really had no idea why. I wanted to be the first female architect in the UAE. In this area of the world, where the male species are considered as the only possible superior beings, that would have been the greatest achievement ever. However, one sem break spent in Dubai, on a plane heading back to Manila, I read an article about a phenomenal landmark (the Emirates Towers) designed by a woman who graduated from Harvard and at that very moment, I cried. I cried because I felt like I lost the entire point of it all. It wasn’t any hysterical outburst, just the demure tear rolling down the cheek, like in one of those dramas where the girl is seated on the plane in one of the economy seats and starts to think about her life (her teenage pregnancy or first love) and without the makeup going berserk on her, she whimpers and a tear rolls down her cheek, sentimental emo punk music blaring in the background…

That really had nothing to do with my writing, maybe a little bit and I just wanted to share that…

Anyway, my first year in Adamson was pretty good. I still wrote well (I think). Some of my professors commended my writing and asked me what the heck I was doing in Architecture. I said, I had no idea but I still wanted to write. I guess my course didn’t really compliment the craft so it diminished into the crap that it is now. But I was willing to work on it; only thing was I had no idea how… Blogging was not enough and there was no time to write books with the course load. I had no outlet and after my sophomore year, I had no motivation. There were no more English subjects and most of the research papers we do were merely cut and paste from the net (I don’t know why but I felt that there was no point in writing in Architecture because no one really cared and it never makes a difference). Hence, I lived my daily college life without a drive, without a passion…
However the spark came back when I met a guy from the Libertine Society (one of the best writers out there and my bestfriend) who wanted to put together a paper for the org. Being a new member, I wanted to try everything. This was the first group that made me feel that I mattered. (YES I am like one of those people who need a sense of belonging to actually want to live, don’t consider that as pathetic, just a bit extreme). We never got around to doing anything about it, though, but just the thought of writing again excited me.

This prompted me to try out for Adamson’s Ugnayan just before the end of the school year (senior year). I wanted to contribute, and I wanted to write again. After two hours of endless writing (pouring down your thoughts and emotions) I thought I made it, I thought that maybe I still had it and that this was my chance to sharpen my dull tools… I thought about it all summer. Thought about it when I was vacationing in Dubai… Even bugged Dennis (the EIC at the time) if I made it… He never answered any of my messages. And the one time that he did it was to tell me he had no jurisdiction over the results. So I decided to just wait.

And there I was, hanging by a moment…

The results came, my name never came up. and I realized that I probably was never good enough.

That was the turning point of me giving up on the writing bit. This is that part of the story where the girl is walking down the street arguing with herself if she should still try even if there was no point when BAM! she gets hit by a bus. I guess it’s not for me, and the names on that result sheet was realization hitting me full speed. Maybe I can write but I don’t have what it takes to be a writer.

When a friend of mine mentioned that they were looking for writers for a certain weblog, I had to shake my head. I can’t write for anyone, not even for me because I’m done trying to fit anyone’s standard. Because when they tell me (directly or indirectly) that I’m not good enough, i start to think that I probably am not good enough. I guess for me it’s better not knowing at all so I can remain happy writing the way that I do.

Tags: Adamson+University, Adamsonian

About the author: rhey's 411 as an adamsonian: full name- rachel nazaret college of arki. never made it to the dean's list. libertine (the society). non conformist. weird. had a really bad fashion sense. wanted to run for president (lol). chose not to because of some personal problems gone haywire. fell inlove with two guys from adamson- michael james fabian and michael vincent lim... nothing good came out of both... left the country. living in dubai.

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