I don't remember what I was doing the year I turned 14.
Besides school, I mean. I was not yet in high school, but
I know my parents were talking about transferring me out
of the Catholic school I'd attended since kindergarten.
My father in particular wanted me to go to the University
of the Philippines high school in our city, because he
himself was a U.P. (Law School) graduate, and because
he claimed he was willing to risk my becoming an atheist
as long as it meant I could get a good education, one
that would teach me how to use my mind.
We were a family of avid readers, but changing schools
did make a difference— I felt more challenged, among my
new cohort who were not only smart but also (I thought)
seemed so much more worldly and cool in comparison to
my awkward self. Super introverted, I didn't talk much
unless called on. But even then, I knew I was good
with words. I knew that I wanted to write, though I
wasn't quite sure what that meant, back then.
Before I transferred high schools, a previous
teacher had given our class an oral test on metaphor;
I failed it, I think not because of a complete lack
of understanding, but because the premises were not
correct. That teacher had us take turns looking at
a simple watercolor (mountains, trees) on her desk,
and asked us to think of metaphors (remember, no "like"
or "as"). Everyone else seemed to have no lack of things
to say, which also meant they were totally spin-doctoring
the assignment. When it was my turn, I looked at the flat
watercolor which had no nuance or detail. I said, It's just
a mountain and some trees.
Despite that seemingly inauspicious experience, my path
has led to where I am today— and I feel so very grateful
and lucky that I'm able to do what I love best— write
and teach writing and literature, talk poetry and writing
with students and colleagues and a community of writing
friends both where I am and through virtual connection—
many of these thanks to Via Negativa and Dave Bonta,
for the space he's shared here where I've kept a daily
writing practice (writing and posting at least) a poem
a day for the last 14 years.
This daily practice has allowed me to put at least 4 books
and chapbooks together. More importantly, it's given me
so many kinds of insight about myself and my writing; it's
the high point of every day, and it's here where I get
excited about trying new things or mulling over
returning questions.
Here's to the next 14 - and more.
