Few years ago, my life hits the rock-hard bottom. An avalanche of problems came snowballing one after the other, and I could not even talked about it, more so blogged it. I am perhaps too proud of success that made my pride got stuck up there refusing to bow down accepting defeat. My marriage, my kids, our finances, my parents and our properties, everything was a mess. Worst, I mess around too. The little rebel in me arises once again to wreck until I get what I want.

I don’t want to brag but I never had problems I can’t resolve in the past, everything had been spoon-fed. God's been good to me always. If to gauge the level of difficulty, the trials He had given me was easy, according to some. And I grumbled on the easy ones too; like not hitting the passing marks, or blocked from competing in the prestigious music festival, or heart broken by someone and thinking I’m going to die from heartache. Recalling those, I can't help laughing how shallow my tears were.

In this game of life, my challenges nowadays are two steps higher. But I never complained “why me?” There are more people who have greater problems than I have right now. Indeed it's strange to have lost the real laughter, or joke about the funny things in life, or call a friend anytime anywhere to just have fun with. It seems like I have no right for fun and laughter once I had decided to take responsibility. It has long deserted me and the world became stiff as mature problems came to face upfront. Problems you just can't run away from, not even running as far as Manila. We can’t remain as a child, now that we have children of my own.

When I dwell on these negative emotions and mortify myself inside my room, I am allowing the circumstances to pull me down. Hence, I've got to move on from this life’s harsher adversaries. No one knows I have come to this battle untrained, yet can I just retreat or quit? Nope. Quitting is  a far-fetched reality. As we grow, our challenges transform to deal with far heavy situations than grades, competitions and puppy love. Life is not a computer game where we press marriage ‘undo’ or the kids ‘delete’, nor change our parents when they have failed us.

Sometimes, it takes time to understand why I was given such difficult task, or why I have to meet and deal with difficult people. But I realized in time that everything happens for a reason. I don’t usually have those  “when it rains, it pours” moment, but I learned my lesson well. When God closes the door, the next one that opens is always much better and is worth the wait. It amazes me how things just fall into place right when I needed it. When I am at my wits end trying to meet all ends, an opportunity came knocking assuring me that everything will be alright. Suddenly I won’t have to play hard on myself anymore. Everything will be provided for if we believe.

"Literature is the art of writing something that will be read twice, journalism what will be grasped at once." (Cyril Connolly, British journalist)

I have my own way of writing my literary folio. I do not have any particular criteria in composing my blogs to start with, nor have undergone some rigid formal education in journalistic skills as a fortress of knowledge. So spare me. I do not wish to be a writer of any tabloids or news magazines for that matter, nor wish to win and become a famous blogger.

But what I do have is a fervent mind rich in nerve-wracking experiences, from unique adventures of failures and success, of losing and winning, of hating and loving, of fears and hopes, of frustrations and satisfactions. Maybe, I am something of a dreamer. Perhaps, I breathe life into a dream, but both feet glued to the ground of reality, striving to achieve maturity to balance idealism and realism. I don't know. All I know is that I treasure my vivid literary imagination. Thus, I believe that putting these into words is an art, believing that anything is possible for art's sake. So allow me to scribble down my thoughts in a spur of the moment, may it be a bit drafty, or a bit flashy, for each moment may pass, never to be recovered.

Often, I used to break away from the standard and customary writings making my audience gawked in disdain or blankly awed by the words and phrases I used. But like movies, heroes and villains clash. Some people never get tired of their silliness, spending time crusading against those who stray from their standards. My article was once blogged as "pretentious mixing up of words to become high sounding phrases only ends up awkward......so brazen yet so terrible." Whether this blog was intentionally meant for me or not, I feel guilty. Perhaps to them, I am an embarrassment in the blog world and ooh what a high standard to be imposed in such a mediocre site, when I have seen far more terrible blogs.

My adoring husband, Shaun, who noticed my disenchanted confidence, just gave a chuckle and jokingly suggested to have my blog submitted to Ninang Gail, if that's how the trend now goes for just a blog. He could not be serious of course. So I let out a hollow laugh. Ma'am Gail, as she's popularly called, is one of the coolest writer and editor in our locality. A nose bleeder in writing too, which triggered my nosebleed blog (but then of course, she's not part of that minute populace I've been discussing all about). It was my husband's way to keep me going, to encourage me to write more of our family, him, egan, and my profession, not just creating some counter-attacks from those who embraced the wicked pleasure from bullying. So now I'm back into blogging again after a few months of silence. He carefully screened down my friendster "friends", and turned the settings into non-viewing to non-friends, in the hope that no stalker shall penetrate the deepest recesses of my blood-brain barrier. I don't usually mention my Shaun's name in my blog rants for he is too wholesome to be stained, but this one deserves his credit.

Still, the trivial pursuit of ordinary literary writings is terribly interesting. I will write what I want to write, the way I learn to write it. I am not perfect and the world cannot forgive those who pretend to be one. Hence, call me unconventional, a deviation from the mean, different from the conservative, and that of which can be detrimental to the health of those who are stereotypical. I don't want to create fury amongst the beaten but i do acknowledge the testimony of those who are weary. Perhaps chained to their obligation as a writer by profession, where words are counted and pages selected to fit a few. But yes, I am blatantly bold and shameless over my articles because I do not wish to live to be broken by those who are drenched in bitterness. The best way to deal with my journal is to offer decency instead of cynicism, because our wit is not enough to outsmart this cruel world.

So go ahead, read on... Love it, or hate it. It is fun to see how my stories end to your senses. Throw in more coal and keep the fire burning!