I was driving along Meralco Avenue the other day when a beggar knocked on my car window. Without even looking, or thinking, I flicked my hand on the window signaling her to go away. This happened in 5 seconds while I was driving, while I was thinking on what to write about next in my blog. Then it hit me. And suddenly, I felt bad.
I love Glee. I’ve been watching it over and over on DVD and I never get tired of it. I’m genuinely happy whenever I watch it. I love how the characters just belt out in song to express what they feel or what they want to say. I empathize with the characters through their songs and the intensity of their singing makes the message, and the emotions, even more palpable. I wish I could sing like them, even if just to express how I feel.
I’ve known for quite a while now (almost my entire life, really) that I’m not very talented when it comes to singing. I think I’m tone deaf which makes me unable to carry a tune. I can’t even sing along with the radio or my iPod when I’m alone because of the embarrassment of not hitting a single correct note. That’s a lot of pent up emotions if I consider singing as my only outlet.
That’s the reason why I want every piece I write BE my song. I want people to read what I write and understand what I want to say and feel what I feel. I want them to relate with my writing the same way that they relate with a particular song. I believe that I can be a more effective writer this way.
Here’s to more “singing” in the days to come.
I often admire people who can speak eloquently. Beautiful words, some of which I don’t even know, pour out their mouths like sweet syrup that makes that plain pancake more than just plain. And it’s not just their words are flowery, they really make you understand things easier. How do they do it? Because I would think any good writer worth his bread would have an arsenal of words for any verbal and written confrontation.
I guess I’ve had my fair share of opportunities to expand my vocabulary. School never failed in giving assignments and readings where I was bombarded with new words. Written reports were expected to progress into “sophisticated” papers expressing ideas with more depth and clarity without being wordy as the grade level went higher. College demanded reports that would satisfy the sharp minds of the most demanding professors. In effect, I was “forced” to broaden my vocabulary.
Graduating meant freedom from school but losing hundreds of learning opportunities, expanding one’s vocabulary being one of them. Work simply didn’t encourage to learn new words at a grilled student’s pace. I guess that’s when everyone just seemed to become more articulate than me. They had more words in their reserve. Beautiful and clear words, at that.
My interest in writing made me realize that one’s vocabulary is his/her currency in the field. The more words a person knew (and knew how to use well), the more he could do in the world of writing. As I write this, I’m trying to remember enough words to be coherent and clear enough in expressing my ideas. This entry is by no means a masterpiece. I think I still have a long way to go with still lots of words to “digest”. But hey, I’m a lot smarter now than I was yesterday.
