my ego took big blows this week. ow.

first off, the workshop. I've never been to a workshop, ever. I've heard things about workshops from people who've been in them -- like Gia who introduced me to Sir Capili (and the "happy" writing classes he holds) and a handful of WC people who i asked about how workshops go. and that was the closest i got to a workshop, mere second-hand accounts.

last Wednesday was my first. i was pep talking myself, telling me it will be as informal as informal can get and that I'd be good. of course i knew i was scared shxt inside, i just didn't want to admit it because i knew I'd be overwhelmed by it. i was practicing my best poker face, the one that looked appreciative and grateful, and not that only serious look i can muster which looks too defensive for my own good.

so i was read, and then given the requisite comments. i knew i wasn't exactly headed to the right direction with my piece, considering the workshop head, Jomar, was someone who's very keen on social issues. what i did was a very shallow, humorous piece on everyday commuting and the travails of the commuter who wipes drool and sweat from her sleeve. i wanted it to be funny, unfortunately for me, my readers didn't exactly see my piece that way.

for starters, i was told it was immature and lame. the piece, as they see it, set a very elitist tone, they didn't find it funny. i was told wanting to have a car, as an end of the essay was totally shallow and that there are more pressing issues to write about -- other than well, casual everyday observations inside jeepneys. for another, i was told i didn't get to exhaust the rich material observations inside jeepneys provided. there was so much story inside the jeep and my very limiting (and shallow) piece didn't get to capture the more important issues.

but then i was told, i have a pretty good command of the language. and that i have control over the tone and direction of the piece. it was just that, i wasn't exactly taking it to the direction that spoke of depth and maturity. am in such a lost at how to rewrite my piece. hay.

and then another, the resume. Kat and Gia have been trying to talk me into joining the MME they've been working really hard on. my slot was pretty sure, and the all-expenses paid tag the event has was the come on they were waving at my face. and well, the other is that it will make my resume look better, because yes, it adds one additional line to the "seminars attended" part. and finally, after a good number of days' worth of bugging through text and email and all other means and ways of harassment, i give in.

it was the night of the deadliest deadline that i start working my application form and the resume. i was saddened by the very... um, sparse contents of my resume. i figured i haven't been doing a lot the past four years of my college. maybe i was just coming and going to school, drifting through the days and not exactly doing any growing up, at all. it was too much for my PMS-y ego to take. um no, no suicide is happening at all. just some verbal diarrhea to let the bad feeling out.

and because this is sour graping, MY sour graping, i just have to say, it doesn't help that someone gets to play basketball with Kobe and that that someone is a freaking freshman. no, it doesn't help at all. it makes me feel worse, that while i am wallowing in this (self-made) pit (I'd like to call, monthly self-pity), someone's basking in the glory of getting handpicked by THE Kobe Bryant to sweat together and share Gatorade. never mind that his grandstanding never won them any game in the last 13 sets. i hate it more that that makes him too good for the self-pity-ing broken ego person. oh dear.


***

i thought there was a lot of wisdom in six-ear old Seth's question for Pastor. the boy goes "Pastor, how come goals are important?" and all ten of us, with jaws wide open, get floored at the sheer wit that little boy spews out ever so casually. Pastor answers matter-of-factly that goals are important because they keep you focused. and it was just one of the best non-verse quotes he had to make.

in another floored experience that witty little boy gave us, he answered Pastor's question on life goals. Seth goes, "My goal is to be a very smart boy" and we all clap in amazement at the purity and innocence of the statement. i am both happy and saddened at the boy's certainty of his life goal. i am happy that at six, he knows where he's headed. yes, maybe it can change and, for a fact i know, it will change when he grows older. but still, i am happy at six he knows what he wants.

i am saddened because at twenty i feel like i am just letting the tide take me to wherever. i feel out of axis, just spinning with the groove, out of control. and six-year old Seth knows what he wants, thankyouverymuch. i need a goal, i need focus and i dont know where to start. twenty, six months away from college graduation and about to write my resume isn't a good time to be clueless. oh Lord.