goodbyes are not forever

Two more days and I am leaving on an airplane. Weekend was very tiring. I was very busy packing and organizing my luggage. I prayed for this day to come and now that I am two days away from my departure, I can't seem to defy this feeling of confusion. Have you ever wanted something sooo badly (I wanted to leave) and when you finally got it you wanted to just run away (that’s me feeling sad for leaving)? That’s exactly what I feel everytime I hug friends goodbye. I tell everyone things are all set when I haven’t even called the cargo guy to pick up my boxes. My luggage is still empty.

Doha, Qatar was my home for almost two years. My first six months were especially long and cold. Lots of major things happened during that length of time (that’s a tale for another day). I even remember calling mom, my eyes swollen and my mouth babbling “COME FETCH ME!”

And then came friends. .social work.. more friends.. civic groups..connections..chorale..dear friends..online community..a huge family..

When you get close to people and you invest time and feelings with them, you don’t treat them as friends..they become your family. And during my entire stay here in Doha, I have come to know some of the best people I could ever find. I am sooo lucky having met these people and having learnt a lot of things from them.

I’ll surely miss the place. And I will especially miss the people. My next entry will be a photo blog of faces who I met here, places I have gone to, experiences I wouldn’t exchange a penny for, and friends who are very dear to me.

Goodbyes are not forever.

This is my Home. My Neverland.

A famous Filipino writer once said, "Sometime in your life, you will have to travel the whole world to find that one thing that makes you happy...and you find it right at that very spot, the very same place where you first left."

My earliest writings were scribbled when I was four. What to put on the walls weren't really that big of a problem because I had an apprentice. I remember just grabbing my pencil (oftentimes my Crayola) and start scribbling away in free motion. The feeling was... heavenly. While writing this first entry, I occasionally stop to test my memory. I close my eyes and there comes a picture-movie so vivid. My younger sister May and I beautified our walls with rainbows and fireflies and trees. We doodled flowers and butterflies and bees. We invented our own worlds and stamped our names on them making them our own. And then I thought, because I am good in imagining, maybe I should start making my own stories.

Writing became infectious. I was able to create piles of notebooks filled with doodles, essays and poems. My journals talked about my little BIG dreams of becoming a doctor, a firewoman, an astronaut. Mother often scolded me for wasting paper (she recycles a lot even until now) not knowing that I will someday make a career out of it. It was my teacher Desiree who first noticed my passion. She trained me and sent me out to competitions.

Fast forward to ►►
A lot of things happened. In what seemed to be so long ago, I gained more friends, read more books, enjoyed TV and watched the boys. I wrote my first love letter, had my share of heartaches and listened to what the experienced ones had to say. I became too busy figuring out about life. I became obesessed with reality that I forgot about my dreams. I just had to experience everything to teach myself what life is.

And then I stopped writing (passionately).

I didn't really aspire to be a writer. I wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer. This is probably one reason why I still feel a bit envious of my sister May who's now a registered nurse. She wears white all the time you know? And it reminds me of the medical kit I used to carry around when we were young. Tried to ride different trains to bring me to a different field. I even told myself I could sell cigarettes for a living just to earn money.And where am I now? I went back to doing the old job. Writing for money.

Here's a realization:
If your profession is classified under media,entertainment or advertising, no matter how much you like blogging/writing, you'll have less time to write. Worse, you'll have no energy at all to start even one.

One fine day, an angel spoke with me and said "Hey! You should start blogging again.Of all people I know, I expected you to have one and you have none." (I deleted my old blogs due to depression, break-ups and some more kiddie reasons I don't remember anymore). Said yes but didn't really absorb it until today. I didn't have the heart to begin one because I wanted to make sure that the urge is coming from the inside.

And so here I am, kissing my one true love. Making amends with my old friend Blogger. Letting you know that I am starting a BLAH BLAH BLABS RANT PAGE again. This time, I don't have to force myself to write. I just have to scribble my heart out.

I always believed that happiness is when we are in peace. I find peace in writing. And I left writing (from my heart) a long time ago. Now, I am coming back to my H♥me Sweet H♥me where hearts don't grow old. This is my Neverland.

☺☻♥☺☻♥☺☻♥☺☻♥

I would like to thank everyone who said they miss reading my blogs.
Uncle Spike, for pushing me a bit to start a new one despite my fears of having no followers.
My dearie friends who supply me with weird, nice, funky, sexy thoughts to ponder on. They drive me insane sometimes.
Jen and Joyce for keeping me company and helping me get through with my Doha life.
Thanks Sneaky for being an intellectual conversationalist (sometimes not). ☺
My family, for all the l♥ve.

And of course, the many faces who trust me with their stories. You are my inspiration.