Of Fears and a Wicked Imagination

I am a scaredy-cat. On top of that, I’ve got one hell of a wild and wicked imagination. I don’t need to see you in some intensely creepy Hollywood-grade costume because no matter how not creepy the getup might be, my imagination will tell me otherwise.

I don’t like frogs whether animated or real. I refer to this as my ‘kokaphobia’. I’m not exactly sure where this fear came from but I’ve always found them revolting and always want to throw up whenever I see one (don’t even talk to me about sophomore year in Biology class when we had to work with them and I was group leader).

I don’t like horror films – specifically when the narrative is told from the perspective of the prey… but weirdly enjoy it when it’s from the perspective of the hunter (witchy movies, helloooo?). Again, one hell of a ridiculous imagination I have.

I don’t like tight spaces (claustrophobia, anyone?). I’m a big person who’s had asthma since birth and getting stuck in tight spaces makes me feel as if I can’t get air in my lungs. I think this fear stems from childhood. One of my recurring nightmares growing up was being stuck in between the corner of a wall and some bigger than life-size statue and no amount of screaming can somehow attract the people moving and gossiping around the place to get me out of that tiny space. Not sure what the psychology is behind that nightmare but I’ll just put that off as a simple nightmare and not overthink anymore than I already do.

I fear losing the very few magical beings I hold near and dear to me (I doubt this needs further explanation).

I fear being silenced – no – scratch that. I’ve been told to keep my silence and to ‘behave’ so as not to offend anyone by my words and maintain peace and calm in an ecosystem. I fear being so used to the silence that I lose myself in the process – my freedom to think, speak and be my own self.

I fear the unknown, the uncertain. The abyss. It paralyzes me.

I fear losing my music and what ability I have of writing. It’s my source of sanity. If I lose them, I fear I’ve more to fear.

I fear that if I face a boggart it won’t take the shape of something grotesque – I fear it will take the likeness of me and it’ll be like looking into a mirror.

I fear what I can do once I stop fearing what I can do.

I guess, who and what I fear most is… Me.

The Impact of Women

I’ve just finished watching Women of Impact Changing the World on NatGeo.

The show opened with how women influenced other women. How one woman’s bold decision to go where no woman has gone before allowed other women to see themselves in these worlds and be empowered to also go boldy.

There was a bit about Dr. Sylvia Earle and how she was treated when she first started with her work with the ocean. Some of the comments made about her and the team of women she led were incredibly sexist. Just – appalling. She even had a project that she that she’d been a part of as a scientist but how she, as the woman in the team, was told to be the one to cook and do the dishes. Again, appalling.

‘Karencitta should watch this’, I said to The Love. ‘If those women quit, we would not be where we are now’.

‘Imagine if Cattski quit’, The Love said and I started to tear up.

Coz then I thought, ‘If Cattski had quit… If there was no Cattski to help mentor and guide Cebu music that we know now… There wouldn’t be as many empowered local artists… There would be no Lourdes… There would be no Mary Anchit…’

The thing is, if you want to fight the system – most especially if you’re a woman – the solution is never quitting. The way to do it is to fight smartly.

Prepare for your fight – educate yourself. Why is the system like this? How does the system function? How can we make it work to our advantage? What other options and platforms are available for us?

Educate yourself to a point where you can outsmart the system.

Do the work. Do good – great – work.

Do work that is so good that the system cannot deny your contributions. That the system starts to make room for your contributions coz only you and you alone can contribute what you can contribute.

Let this serve as an open letter to all the women who choose to go boldly where no woman has ever gone before. Those who choose to keep the fight no matter how tough things get and no matter how, at times, things seem hopeless. Those who choose to keep going day in and day out doing great work.

You are seen. You are heard. You are valued. You are documented and will be written and will never be erased from history because of your unyielding passion.

From this woman and from all those whose lives you inspire and empower through your tenacity and dedication – THANK YOU.

Knits + Knots

On October 2 of this mad year, I finally started to learn something I’ve always wanted to learn ever since I was a kid: Knitting.

I come from a generation where crafting was what kids did to keep themselves preoccupied. In my youth, I painted (abysmally but… I tried so hard), I learned how to make my own necklaces and bracelets (I later found out I had a thing for bracelets) and all sorts of accessories. I learned to crochet and made little pouches. Somehow, I never got around to knitting.

Until now.

What pushed me over the edge and finally got me to buy the yarns and the knitting needles was my intense involvement with… Drumroll please… the Wizarding World of Harry Potter.

You see, all these years, I’ve put off dressing up as if I go to Hogwarts. Then I realized that this fandom is VERY real to me and there’s no point in denying it anymore.

The thing is, if I could make my own robes, I would, but I can’t so I’m going to have to outsource that. What I can do, however, is I can learn to knit so I can make my own Hogwarts scarves.

Naturally, it doesn’t end there. Oh, the many things I can learn to create through knitting!

The past few weeks have been filled with me figuring out how to knit a line and how to purl a line and knit and purl and knit and purl so I could rib.

I was surprised that I quickly found my pace in knitting. My deep seeded immense (and intense) background in making friendship bracelets and crocheting allowed me to understand the ins and outs of the knitting world a bit quicker than I anticipated.

I’ve yet to make anything of substance and of use. I’m still getting a hang of working the yarn and the needle and being comfortable with the art and the science of it all.

The ultimate goal is, of course, to knit like Mrs. Molly Weasley. Make multiple sweaters for everyone with varying designs and patterns. Perhaps I’ll even get around to making a onesie, who knows?

For now, I’ll start with a good ole scarf. Master it. I’ll master making scarves so well that by the time I get around to making my own Hogwarts scarves, it’ll be magical.

Hum of Music and Moonlight

Hum it.

Listen to it.

Play it on the guitar.

Sing it.

I guess I’ve been fortunate.

At an early age I found refuge in music. This bond with music has only strengthened over time.

Now, I’m someone who regularly battles their own demons and darkness, and music has become a bestfriend, an armor, a shield and a weapon.

A few years ago, something happened that triggered the demons and the darkness to come around. They sent their notice and I remember the dread building up over hours and hours and this gnawing, nagging feeling of worthlessness was about to take over. I didn’t want them to take over. I’d gotten tired of them taking over.

Then, as I was about to sleep, I heard a hum – a song.

I’d hung on to hope that the demons and the darkness wouldn’t win. Not then. Not at that moment.

An image popped into my head: the night sky. I was reminded that amidst a dark sky, there are little twinkling stars, but there is also the moon and its light. I was reminded of its immense gravitas that can keep an audience in awe of its beauty as it holds its own in a pool of seemingly empty darkness.

I got up, grabbed my guitar, didn’t bother turning on the light. I hummed and played until my song came into view as clearly as I saw the moonlight in my head.

I didn’t sleep until the song felt complete.

That song is my prayer, my chant – a mantra, if you will. A spell to repell the unwanted and unneeded. It has become a bestfriend. It’s my armor, shield and weapon. At the moment it was written, it was my cure.

Over the years since the songs creation, whenever I feel the demons and the darkness coming around for a visit, I turn to music. I turn to that song.

I hum it.

Listen to it.

Play it on the guitar.

Sing it.

I guess I’ve been fortunate.