Finding my voice

It's quite painful to feel like you've lost your voice. Amidst daily struggles, suffocating routines, and the busyness of people who comprise your support system. It's almost like screaming in a crowded place where no-one can hear anything but their own voice, until they realize just how fruitless it is, and resort to mumbling to themselves instead.

I used to be able to "express" so easily. Thoughts I've had pop in my head at 3 am used to flow in words as if they were being recited to me. I took it for granted for so long until I realized that there is a time when I'll be desperate to articulate my thoughts and fail to do so miserably. Or even worse, to think to myself that what I have to say isn't worthwhile, that my experience as a human doesn't matter and I should just shut the hell up to avoid annoying people about my useless life while they go on with theirs.

I don't know how long it will take for my brain to unwind the damage this warped thought process brought upon me. I'm just sharing this to say I know it won't last, I won't let it.

Life and Art

But then I'm bewildered, how on earth is life not like "the movies" when people who create movies are, well, alive?! From where would poets, authors or artists in general soak the vividness of their emotions? Don't they live on the same planet we live on? 

The quote presented above is from my blog, a post dated February 14th, 2013. I had just finished reading The Prisoner of Zenda for the first time in the original text, and I was quite surprised and deeply moved by how the author managed to describe the romance between the two characters; Rudolf Rassendyll and the Princess Flavia.

It was beautiful how he described how they wanted each other, missed each other's presence, and truly longed for a life together. However, they ended up apart...that was where I cried.

Here's an excerpt from the 21st chapter in that novel. It's dear to me because it truly made me see how my wish--quoted from my beloved Oscar Wilde--that "life would imitate art" have come true in a way I never suspected:

"I am mad!" I said sullenly.

"I love your madness, dear," she answered.

Her face was away from me, but I caught the sparkle of a tear on her cheek. 

"Is love the only thing?" she asked, in low, sweet tones that seemed to bring a calm even to my wrung heart. "If love were the only thing, I would follow you—in rags, if need be—to the world's end; for you hold my heart in the hollow of your hand! But is love the only thing?"

I made no answer. It gives me shame now to think that I would not help her.

"I know people write and talk as if it were. Perhaps, for some, Fate lets it be. Ah, if I were one of them!"

 As an answer to the questions in my blog quote, they soak that vividness from life. And yes, they do live on the same planet as us, and I was privileged enough to meet some of them, even more privileged to have the close friendship and affection of one.

An artist's heart is designed to clarify every single experience it goes through. It's made to reveal mysteries that lie in everyday encounters, show the tenderness behind crude behaviors, and give meaning to abstract emotions which are then universally related to and understood. Art is created to show us beauty even in presumed ugliness, it's a reminder that the human soul is far more complex and deep than materialistic needs or earthly aspirations. This art can touch you through a word well-placed when uttered, a note well-played, or a paintbrush that holds the right color and makes the right strokes. It's appreciated when it's placed before an eager eye or given to a hungry ear; the receptacles that are willing to deliver such exhilarating experience to another artist's soul...

Twenty (Collective Thoughts from Birthday Week)

Okay, so here it goes...
I turned 20 exactly a week ago. I don't really know how I feel about it, but the immense love I received from so many people (both close to me and just acquaintances) was more than enough to make me feel blessed throughout the whole day. So here's a long due "Thank you!" to everyone who took the time and effort to wish this girl a happy start after a second decade done.

I got into a messy argument with a friend that night. It was not how I imagined my twenties to start, but God only knows what good intentions were put into my actions.
This is all I'm saying about the cause of the state of shock that took over me for the better part of the three days that followed.

I couldn't stay there. I needed to pull my act together both for college, and for a moment I awaited a long long time, the closing ceremony of a civil society project I'd been working on since last July.

When that moment came along, I was very proud of the work my team and I put into the project, and the incredible outcome that I saw in the eyes of everyone, whether staff or participants. Each "thank you" I received reminded me of how much of a privilege it is to be able to help people reach a better understanding of their potentials. And of the impact that the experience, and each and every one I worked with has left in me.

I took a leap of faith to do somethong I always wanted to do, which is sing alone in English in front of a large group of people. I have performed alone before through acting, and I'm already a member of a choir group in my church, but this experience is completely different. I know I don't have the nicest, strongest voice out there, but I also know that a deeply felt song is almost always well-received.
So, I picked "Fix You" by Coldplay. It's a song I truly love. It holds dear memories to me and it's somewhat popular. And I got up there on the stage of the Great Hall in the Bibliotheca Alexandrina, in front of over a thousand people, and sang it.
I wouldn't lie and say I was afraid, because I wasn't. But having tried that feeling is still a big experience for me. I enjoyed that moment despite all the background noise in my head that had my feelings blurred and distorted for the previous few days. I had fun.

So, to wrap it all up, I need to work on my ability to properly react on time. I remember vividly how each situation leaves me feeling, but I need to allow these feelings to show up like they used to.

Words

I've always wondered what my purpose in life was. I don't really know what makes me special, what people like about me, and why my existence is beneficial to other people. The thoughts that I'm inadequate, average, not special and at times a failure still haunt me and get the best of me at times. However and regardless of my person and my fallacies, I found my true gift that I can offer to humanity: my words.

My words may not be the flashiest or the most inspiring, they may not hold the deepest of meanings and the most divine of messages. After all, they're just words...
But my words come from a sincere place. They capture what I'm thinking and feeling and offer it on a silver plate to whomever is reading them. They're the essence of my being and the fruit of my experience, the only thing that I can't forge or fake; me.

I understand that by sharing my thoughts I'm making myself vulnerable and weak. But aren't we all just that? No matter how hard we try to conceal it and how special we seem, we're all that helpless little child that wants to feel safe and accepted, that seeks approval and love wherever they're found.

Words are a powerful tool and a sacred gift, but they're also all I have. So I'll keep on filling my soul till it pours out, and maybe the flood will quench some stranger's thirst.