A Chapter in My Book Called Life

First of all, thank you for visiting my blog and giving my first article a shot. It amazes me that there is somebody out there who’s willing to take a leap of faith by reading someone’s writing when that someone is nothing close to Ryan Gosling. Not even an inch. For that, thank you.

Back in college, I've always wanted to better my English writing and communicating skills; hence, I took a literature degree. I also believed that by doing so, my songwriting will improve. Which did happen eventually. But of course, the road was not easy and the tasks were just fucking arduous. I had to endure a lot of criticisms and whatnot – all for the goal of becoming better. It was really full of fun. I was learning and doing what I love the most. The feeling was just satisfying and surreal. It’s like earning a Nobel Prize for proving that Unicorns are real.

Unfortunately, things must come to an end. Or I thought so. 

My wife and I welcomed Kyle to our lives. I can still remember: We were finishing the last chapters of our college days by that time. Damn, I can say that was helluva ride. I mean, honestly, I wasn’t prepared. You can’t just be right off the bat and say, “Yes, I’m a father! Thank God!” My mind was going nuts the whole fucking time.

My son, Kyle Brielle Alfonso Albaciete.

Anyway, we never ever let our son feel that we didn’t want him with us, that he was unwanted and that we regretted whatever the fuck there was to regret. We always aim to be the best parents Kyle could ever have. So, there was I, becoming responsible for another human being’s life. I got a job (Call Center Agent) that, yeah, pays off well. Not bad. However, I had to give up my dream of becoming a genuine writer, which I wasn’t even sure of, and my music endeavors (I was in a band that time).

When I finally realized that I can’t simply let go of writing and music, I had to search for an output. I had to find an avenue; it can’t just sit in and rot forever. So I started blogging, reconnecting with my old acquaintances and forming a band. Unfortunately, the latter had to stop. It wasn’t just practical. The geographical location that I live and my band’s musical taste, which close-minded people regard as demonic, that we’re in some sort of a cult or something, it’s just really hard to earn money. Besides, I don’t want to rely my family’s future on something that is vague.

I continued blogging. I wrote stuff sporadically. Just as long as it satisfied my inner desire for writing. I even teamed up with my friend who happens to be one of my thesis-buddies, Mark. And together we created The Random Letter Seven. We wrote everything that our mind can imagine. From how shitty Miley Cyrus is to how doped the Philippine officials are. There were no limits to what topics we wrote. We were stoked. In a week, we can write 5-6 articles depending on how fucked we are. It even soared high when Billy (our thesis-buddy as well) decided to join. We were like the Three Musketeers, the Big Three, or any fucking three-piece-group reference you can ever think of. We made a good, if not the best, team. But at the end, it plummeted. We were so busy with our lives that the decision to stop was mutual.

Fast forward to today, I’m still here… writing. I guess the gods still favor me. Dreaming that one day, I can be the most interesting man in the world. Nah, just kidding. I just can’t really see myself giving up writing. It’s my heroine, and I’m addicted to it. I find it as the most complex-yet-satisfying hobby in the world. Yeah, sure, I may not be the best writer in my level, but I will always try to be one – in Joe Pesci’s time. Well, that’s it for now. There are a lot of things I want to share, but my eyes are tired. Anyway, that’s why there are sequels.