Write.

THE HARDEST THING ABOUT DEFEATING THE PURPOSE 


My dreams are eating me up and alive.

It began when my deceased grandmother asked me about one of the simplest yet cringeworthy questions that my 10-year old self would never want to answer: my ambition. Immature as I was, I did not hesitate nor try to think an ounce about it and quickly I answered (for the sake that I have an ambition), “I want to be a teacher.”

I felt that her facial expression was a sign of complete approval. For a once recognized teacher in the municipality, hearing this was something she’d be proud telling our relatives any time shortly.

Fast forward, I believed that being a writer as my full time profession has just been a heaven sent favor. The hobby that I enjoyed doing for the longest time became my ultimate bread and butter. Of course, writing per se isn’t bad at all. I even believed during my first few years in the industry that writing is the product of the musings of our heart, mind, and soul.

Yet, with the ever changing needs of our world, doing things I long deemed as honorable eventually broke everything that I hoped for-- deliberately and profusely.

And it all took place during the first semester of 2014, in the Polytechnic University, Sta Mesa Manila.
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My Philippine Literature professor wasn’t like any other professor like those who try to look like one. In fact, my professor was apparently like those of fervent followers of Che Guevarra in Manila: black shirt, unwashed pants, and yes, youthful independent aura. Despite all these, I tried to convince myself that I’m a believer of the old adage of “do not judge the book by its cover” while attempting so hard not to be bothered by his radical and rebellious looks at all. However, his thoughts did.

His stance about contemporary Philippine Literature was, if I may say, impressive. I was taken aback by it, as it was my first time to hear something so profound from a literature professor, who never failed to emphasize his ardent passion in the industry. Due to his moving free speeches and allegorical citations, I heard the name Rogelio Ordonez.

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Rogelio Ordonez is, according to my professor, one of the iconic founders and pioneers of Philippine Literature. His literary pieces were published in the historically and academically acclaimed literary anthology entitled "Mga Agos sa Disyerto" which was published in the 1960s, alongside other renowned Filipino writers such as  Efren Abueg, Rogelio Sicat, and Edgardo M. Reyes. Boy, did I never realize that Ordonez’ story could be this so dramatic, as I listened to my professor utter every bit of it like a complete masterpiece. Eventually, I found myself so engrossed by just about knowing a lot more of his accomplishments.

Curious as a cat, I read a lot of Ordonez work and then, something in one of his write-ups made my world collapse in its entirety.

“The writer must not primarily write for money’s sake. He must write because he wants to write. The taste of the reader is only secondary, if at all. For unless he is ready to sacrifice the reader’s predisposition to value judge the writer’s work on the scale of popularity — not on literary merits — the creative writer loses his social purpose, his creative writing. “

I stopped.

My world stopped.

I’ve been doing things wrong—and I have known it since day one.

Everything that goes bad in between just defeats the purpose.

(to be continued..)