I live inside my head now. Words, images and emotions swirl in one gigantic mess in my head and I can’t seem to get them out no matter what I do. My tongue trips and I am rendered inarticulate. I was talking to my sister a while ago, and I can’t seem to get the ideas straight. She looked at me confounded, and trust me, I am as confounded as much as she is. To make matters worse, I am now suffering from a terrible affliction: the dreaded writer’s block.
Okay, if the only thing affected is my writing for this blog. Unfortunately, bigger things are at stake. My work in both the academe and publishing is likewise suffering, and my deadlines are looming over me. I have exactly six days to finish an important research, and currently three magazine articles that I need to get out of the pipeline same day as my research is due. And I have no idea how I’d be able to manage everything in time. If only I could draw things out from my gray matter and into the pages of whatever I need to accomplish...
I sometimes have lucid moments where everything seemed clear, but it doesn’t last long enough for me to put it down on paper. M suggested that I I bring a recorder around so I can simply record my thoughts as soon as I have them, catch them before it evaporates again. I tell people it must be the summer heat, it fries my brain cells to oblivion.
Even as I write this entry, I forget what my point is, or even if I have one. I figured writing this entry could be some sort of exercise, but it’s turning out to be an exercise in futility. (sigh)
Maybe this is a call for help. To anyone who has ideas how to cure this writer’s block, throw them my way. I am desperate.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Saturday, April 10, 2010
The Grass is Always Greener..
I went up to the mountains in search of something. No, not my soul, but something just as rare these days: traditional Ifugao houses. One of the many indigenous communities in the North of the Philippines, the Ifugaos are a hardy bunch, living high up in the mountains and carving its sides into stepped terraces where they plant anything from rice to vegetables and root crops.
So what interest could I possibly have with their traditional dwellings? A research documenting Ifugao architecture and its many implications on their culture and gender roles is what. And so we, myself and the team, embarked on this great expedition, traveling 12 hours from Manila to Banaue, trekking for six hours just to get from one village to the next.
We walked on sides of cliffs and along the edges of the mountain terraces, going as high up as we can possibly go. One misstep and we would literally plunge to our deaths, or drown in the muck of the rice paddies, whichever the case may be. And on top of that, it was unexpectedly cold. We were freezing. Well, okay, freezing may be a bit too much but still, I suddenly felt silly for bringing summer clothes with me to the trip. No one actually thought we could actually suffer from hypothermia in the middle of summer, much less in the Philippines.
Also, I am not the most fit person. I smoke and drink and quite adept at living a sedentary lifestyle, which makes me the least candidate to be to climb a mountain. We would be passed occasionally by grandmothers during our climb, and I swear they were in better shape than I was, and they gave all of us a serious run for our money.
But I did it, even as the muscles in my thighs burned and my breath labored with every climb. And at 3200 feet above sea level, where the air was thin, my mind was clear and at times, I felt like I could see forever.
Just like everyone who’s ever been on a nature trip, I was enthralled by what I saw. It was beautiful, and just like anyone, I hungrily snapped pictures although after a while, it felt like I was taking the same pictures over and over again. I guess sometimes, beauty can be tiring.
As memorable the views were, so were the locals. I know, everyone says that whenever you find yourself as a tourist in new place that the people are friendly and nice. But the Ifugao people are more than just nice, they are resilient and happy. Banaue and the rest of the Mountain provinces are not exactly the easiest places to live in, but these people are doing more than surviving, they are thriving, “Life is hard here, but we are happy,” our guide told us. You look at his face, and you know he’s telling the truth.
With so little, people are content. I somehow felt envious of their uncomplicated lives, thinking maybe a life like that could make me happy. But you realize that no matter how much you romanticize things, no matter how much you think the grass is greener on the other side, it’s never as simple as that. Chances are, they probably think our lives are better than theirs. It’s all a matter of perspective, and it’s really about finding happiness wherever you are.
So what interest could I possibly have with their traditional dwellings? A research documenting Ifugao architecture and its many implications on their culture and gender roles is what. And so we, myself and the team, embarked on this great expedition, traveling 12 hours from Manila to Banaue, trekking for six hours just to get from one village to the next.
We walked on sides of cliffs and along the edges of the mountain terraces, going as high up as we can possibly go. One misstep and we would literally plunge to our deaths, or drown in the muck of the rice paddies, whichever the case may be. And on top of that, it was unexpectedly cold. We were freezing. Well, okay, freezing may be a bit too much but still, I suddenly felt silly for bringing summer clothes with me to the trip. No one actually thought we could actually suffer from hypothermia in the middle of summer, much less in the Philippines.
Also, I am not the most fit person. I smoke and drink and quite adept at living a sedentary lifestyle, which makes me the least candidate to be to climb a mountain. We would be passed occasionally by grandmothers during our climb, and I swear they were in better shape than I was, and they gave all of us a serious run for our money.
But I did it, even as the muscles in my thighs burned and my breath labored with every climb. And at 3200 feet above sea level, where the air was thin, my mind was clear and at times, I felt like I could see forever.
Just like everyone who’s ever been on a nature trip, I was enthralled by what I saw. It was beautiful, and just like anyone, I hungrily snapped pictures although after a while, it felt like I was taking the same pictures over and over again. I guess sometimes, beauty can be tiring.
As memorable the views were, so were the locals. I know, everyone says that whenever you find yourself as a tourist in new place that the people are friendly and nice. But the Ifugao people are more than just nice, they are resilient and happy. Banaue and the rest of the Mountain provinces are not exactly the easiest places to live in, but these people are doing more than surviving, they are thriving, “Life is hard here, but we are happy,” our guide told us. You look at his face, and you know he’s telling the truth.
With so little, people are content. I somehow felt envious of their uncomplicated lives, thinking maybe a life like that could make me happy. But you realize that no matter how much you romanticize things, no matter how much you think the grass is greener on the other side, it’s never as simple as that. Chances are, they probably think our lives are better than theirs. It’s all a matter of perspective, and it’s really about finding happiness wherever you are.
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