Man's Feared Animal

MAN'S FEARED ANIMAL: GROWN WOMAN

It's only now when my shroud of grieving have lifted that I finally made some sense of things in my life. I have really grown into one of man's feared animal -- grown woman.

It pains me to know that I have grown miles and miles apart from the one person I thought knew me inside and out. It pains me to realize that our differences are now glowing and glaring at our faces that it gives me an unsettling and unnerving feeling. A lot of promises were made and broken, and now, a couple more of them are being uttered carelessly but now that I have seen something that he has not yet seen I would just play along with this charade pretending to be the person that he has pictured or envisioned in his mind all these years. I believe in constancy and I also believe in change. I have seen the great change in my life these past few months. This great change started when I got acquianted and eventually got so close to heartache. That was almost two years ago and now, I have evolved into something that I even don't believe I would evolve into-- a grown woman.

My Japanese Sister once testified that: "Lycanthropy is a man’s ability to transform into an animal is a common belief, although what the animal is depends upon which is the most powerful and feared animal in a particular locality." (Alvarez, 1995, p. 96) To paraphrase Julia Alvarez, Angel has transformed into an animal, and she transformed into the most feared, powerful and lonesome animal in this territory - a grown woman. And what a beautiful, smart, wonderful and strong woman she has grown to be. At first I didn't believe her but after all these time she was right. I was forced to grow up. Heartbreak and heartache forced me to grow up. And I have grown up and still growing up.

I see how I have changed, evolved and transformed and sometimes, I myself is scared with the fact that I have grown up. I know that I am scaring him because there are moments that the "new" me brings about a dissonance in his thoughts with regards to me. I often tell people that I am a person that keeps my promises and I believe that this is one of the reasons I believe in constancy. This for me is one of the proofs of my own constancy. Constancy for me is a lot of things and I will talk about that in one of my entries. Bottomline is I have grown and he should be scared because I have evolved into something that he thought I would never come to be: a grown woman. For him and some people, I will always be a baby but in truth, I have grown into something that they never thought I would grow up into.

*****

MY ABSENCE

Why did I stop writing for such a long time?

Answer 1) Had to battle three brothers plus my mom in using the computer
2) Comes home late from work and too tired to write
3) For a time, I lost the confidence to write.

The third answer is the most important answer to the above-mentioned question. Yes, the story-teller lost confidence in her will to tell stories. I have lost the will to write for awhile. I have lost the confidence that I can string up words to make a worthy enough entry to read.

Ideas for stories or entries are abound me. The characters I see on my way to work, the street I live in, the people I talk to over the phone each day for work, how my hip-hop brother suddenly found a liking to writing and poetry, or I could talk about how I finally gave in to shaving my legs because it is the WAY here, or. . . or. . .or. . There are a lot of ideas for stories, poetries, entries but the will was suddenly not there for sometime.

I don't know what made me stop writing for awhile. Maybe I am still reeling from the new life I have: work, school and house chores. Maybe, I read a blog or an entry that sparked the inferiority complex hidden inside of me and lost confidence in my own writing. Maybe, I got pretty occupied by something that a few months or years from now I would be desperately trying to forget or would be joyously looking back at. Maybe. . . maybe. . . maybe. . . There were a lot of plausible reasons why I stopped but here I am again, writing.

A lot of times on the bus or on the train, this thought always crosses my mind: "why do I write?" Do I write because I have something worthy to say? Or do I write because of pride. . . because I have something to show-off that I think the world ought to know? Do I write because I have an audience in my mind or because I want someone to read whatever what-not I babble about? But I guess, at this moment, the reason I write does not really matter. Because at this moment, my passion for writing encompasses all reasons: rational and irrational. Love for writing is what drives me to write tonight.

*****

I am Angel. . . still believes in L O V E. ^_^