Why I Decided to Become a BUM

Note: This is to celebrate my one year of being officially unemployed. Read on.

October 5, 2013--- my first year anniversary of being a semi-bum. I should be celebrating, getting wasted and singing the night away with the few special people who can put up with my oddity--- but then again, who celebrates one year of being unemployed?

Definitely not me.

It’s been a year since I left my last job as Corporate Advertising and Communication Specialist/Writer/Internet Marketing Specialist (I still refuse to call myself Marketing Specialist) for a real estate company. Time flew so fast. It seemed like only yesterday when I collected my last paycheck and shed tears as I left the office I considered home for two years and eight months.

Was it hard? Yes.

Was it practical? No.

Was it the right decision? No.

It was definitely the WRONG decision. But I never regretted it. Because finally, I felt like I am going the RIGHT direction by making such a WRONG turn.

Let’s start with the long back story.

WHEN IT ALL BEGAN

I knew I wanted to be a scientist when I was still a child. I never knew back then that I would need Math brains for it and I officially suck at Math. I can write a perfect paragraph in a minute and still can’t solve an algebraic expression in an hour. Wait... let me make that clear. I don’t really suck at Math that much, but my mind automatically shuts down whenever it encounters numbers.

My dreams were a bit blur at first, you see-- I didn’t know it was writing I was passionate about. While my mind was set to being a scientist, I failed to notice what I really loved doing.

It started from drawings. Just simple drawings of people doing their every day routine. Well, until I realized that the drawings were a succession of events; and that I was talking while drawing them, creating a story in my mind.

It didn’t take long for the drawings to vanish. Suddenly, I wasn’t content with just thinking and speaking them; I wanted to read them.

Thus my hunt for unused notebooks begun. Late night scribbling and a whole day of daydreaming started- and no one could stop me.

However, my dream of becoming a famous scientist was still at the peak of my mind, concealing the deepest desire of my heart.

I still wanted to become an Archimedes.

WHEN IT BECAME CLEAR AS MY SNOT WHEN I DRANK PLENTY OF WATER

It was in Grade Three when I finally had the epiphany.

Reading became one of my favorite past times. I remember reading all of my books even before school started, so that when the teacher asked us to read a particular story/ topic, I wasn’t excited anymore. This’s when I have finally learned the true function of a library.

Every day. Every single day I brought home a book from the Hardy Boys Case Files or the Bobbsey Twins. Every day I solved a case with them. Sometimes I swam with Moby Dick, hid from Frankenstein, and ate… er drank with Dracula. And when I was on my lighter days, I joined Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield in their school girl problems.

My dreams of becoming Archimedes started to get boring. Soon, it was nothing but a remnant of childhood idealism.

Meanwhile, my thirst for stories intensified.

I continued to read books of all kinds (except Rated-R ones because my Mom would kill me); and it didn’t take long for my appreciation for words to become absolute adoration. While some artists became fascinated with colors, I became utterly fascinated with letters. Letters that when combined with imagination created a vision so clear you find yourself transported to another world.

And just like that, I wanted to become one of the creators of those worlds.

I  wanted to become a Dante Alighieri. 

The dream strengthened in high school. I became part of the newspaper club and yearbook staff, authoring stories, poems, and articles. I also became a playwright for classroom mini plays and batch plays. In addition, I started writing fanfiction, to which I owed my current little set of literary friends and enthusiasts online.

The dream never wavered in college. The fanfiction writing continued (with the addition of improved grammar and style) and then the start of serious writing. Serious writing meant that I started creating my own stories. Fanfiction was nice and… therapeutic to write, still is, but there is nothing more fulfilling than creating your own stories… and having someone appreciate them.

I will never forget the words of a classmate: “Naiiyak ako, umpisa pa lang. Isara mo nga yan.”

I was quietly re-reading a draft of my story while waiting for the professor. I didn’t notice she was peeking at my notebook from behind me. It was a simple statement. But then, I never forget small words and acts of encouragement. Whether she meant it or not, it served as an inspiration. Those simple words and acts of encouragement built the foundation for me to pursue my dreams.

I could touch people with my words. 

And it's when this thought was sealed: there's nothing more that I wanted to do for the rest of my life. 

WHEN I STARTED TURNING MY BACK ON WHAT I CALL THE DREAM

Practicality. It’s the main reason why I let my dream lay dormant for a while.

I came from a middle-class family. We get by okay; we get by fine; but not really that well. We have enough, but very little to spare. So right after graduation, I grabbed the first job offered to me. For practicality and for experience.

“For experience.” 

It was another phrase that hindered me from pursuing after my dream.

Regrets. A touchy subject.

The only things I don’t regret are: the new people who became special and being able to make my family happy even if it was just the addition of a few appliances at home or a treat to a restaurant once in awhile.

Regrets. I regret not waiting for my dream job-that's the first one and probably the biggest. I should have waited for the offer of publishing companies where I applied. I should have started writing my first book immediately after graduation. I should have applied more.

So many I should haves.

For four years, I postponed it. Because I needed to have more corporate experience.

Experience.

Because I needed money. Because it’s impractical to take a risk.

But then there's always that question—when? 

When will I pursue that one thing that can make me the happiest person alive- when I am old and wrinkly or when I am again too practical and too busy gaining corporate experience to realize that my dream is what will make me happy and it is what I have wanted for the longest time?

When. So many questions that needed answers.

WHAT MADE ME DECIDE TO FINALLY JUST SAY “TO HELL WITH IT. I’M GOING AFTER MY DREAM AND THAT’S NOW.”

I woke up one day, went to work, and finally realized I’ve been doing routine things all my life.

And that I needed a change. A big change. A risk, but a risk worth taking and sacrificing everything for. It has been postponed for too many times already. Maybe it’s time for me to finally give my DREAM a chance.

The next day, I passed my resignation letter.

My parents were supportive, even if a bit skeptical. I guess it’s because of the guilt. Somehow, deep inside, they knew it has always been my dream all along.

My true friends were all supportive. No questions asked.

The others- the fake friends, the know-it-all acquaintances? Well. I didn’t expect a lot from them really. They have always been the negative force driving my self-respect and self-confidence right to the edge of the cliff. Too bad I promised myself I would never let them get to me this time.

The harshest thing I heard from the past year when everyone learned why I left my job was this:

“E paano ka magkakapera niyan?” A statement uttered so bluntly and with disdain that I could have cried.

Why? Because the truth hurts. Money, unfortunately, controls most of the things in this world even if we don't want it to.

But I didn’t cry. I remained silent. Every time I hear about such comments, I keep quiet. Quoting from Sidney Sheldon’s Master of the Game, “I handled them all with quiet dignity.”

I started baby-making right after I resigned.

For 9 months, I endured migraine, insomnia, and back pains while my parents endured my mood swings and silence. I often heard my dad complain -- “Parang wala naman tayong kasama sa bahay.”

I was just in my room. Staring at the walls. Talking to myself. And writing. I only come down for meals and for some chores. I was a house hermit for 9 months.

Finally, after discarding five plots and a total of thirty chapters, it happened. I felt like a pregnant woman giving birth (not that I actually experienced it). The pain was obviously excruciating, yet you still kept pushing. And when it’s finally out, and in between tired breaths and tears, you are deeply relieved, proud, and definitely at your happiest as you gaze at your creation-

Your baby.

Two months ago, I gave birth. I gave birth to a 150,000- word manuscript which title I have researched so much about yet I still did not know how to pronounce.

I had one beta reader. A very good friend named Davie. And her comments stuck with me.

This came from an email she sent me:

“Overall, I like it because it made me realize a lot of things. It caused my morals battle with my emotions and that rarely happens! It made me feel a roller coaster of emotions. You made me feel how every character feels by the way you write.”

And she sent me these tweets right after:

“I see YOU in your work.”

            And

“There’s a battle of heart and mind inside me because of your #mostawaitedsoontobesensational book. #cantgetovertilthismorning.”

I had tears in my eyes.

It was never about the positive words or praises-- it has always been about the feeling of being able to evoke such emotions from your readers. Whether I made someone cry, laugh, or get angry after they have read my stories, their reactions still made me happy. Because I was able to touch them with my words.

It was a risk. It still is. I do not know if or when I will get a publishing contract. I’ve been waiting for two months now. I have a lot of replies giving me hope and two of them were from an agent and a publisher abroad (Yes, no replies from LOCAL publishers). But until I have the signed contract in my hands, I will never be sure.

The butterflies in my stomach are constant reminders that I don’t have it in my grasp yet.

So here I am, still waiting, still writing, still trying my luck.

With no money and no career.

Yet. (Mind you, I WILL succeed.)

But I am happy. Because despite all the conflicting things surrounding my decision, I can finally say that I have the courage to fight for my dream.

And to come after it.

Can you?