Alsa sa kaugalingong bangko. Bayanihan pud usahay.

I write and or scribble thoughts on pieces of paper, flyleaves of books, notebooks, etc. Sometimes I read these scribblings to my brother. He is my number one fan. He says I should submit them for publication. My older sister also thinks I am a good writer. She encourages me to enroll in creative writing.

I think they're good too. Subject-wise that is. Grammar-wise? They're absolute trash.

My brother says, "Nindot lagi kaayo ka mo narrate ug story. Ako lagi noh morag way chronological sense or whatever."

Even if I become very good with English grammar, I doubt if I will have to courage to submit those scribblings for publication. They're too personal. And some of them are satiric sketches of people I know.

Why I blog!

I am bored.

Sometimes the only relief for the boredom is surfing the net, reading blogs, or goofing off and telling tall tales in chat rooms. Lying so much to so many people, male or female, that I've come to the conclusion I might be a pathological liar, among other abnormal psychology. The making of background stories for myself used to give me endless entertainment. Until i realized people were starting to care for those make believe, invented characters. This was cruel of me because some of these people might not only be bored, they may actually be lonely, seeking human contact if only for a little while.

I'm trying this as a new source of entertainment. I will do my best not to lie here. I will also do my best to be original. But what is original?

When I'm not bored, I read. I know there are millions of books to read. So i ought not to get bored. But in my provincial and solitary lifestyle, I get to the point where I asked myself whether all the reading is making a better person out of me. Or whether this autodidactism going to lead me somewhere. Does reading Shakespeare and Plato and St. Augustine be called autodidactism? Who know and who cares. I like reading them. I never get to read them in college. They're not required reading. But I got curious. And there are still so much to read out there.

Another reason not to get bored is my atrocious grammar. The study of English grammar should be enough to keep boredom away. But after grade five, I gave up trying to be a good student. I realize this when i was in first year high school. I was totally behind in grammar. Somewhere along the way to high school, some teacher has fucked up with my education.

I was also pathetic in vocabulary and maths. Although all the excellent books I've been reading have given me plenty of vocabulary, I doubt it has improved my grammar. My Maths is non-existent. I won't be able to save myself if Maths is a safety pass to other universes if and when apocalypse comes to Earth!

Words

Cojo is a Spanish adjective. Sense two of the word means cripple. Which basically is what I am. Figuratively speaking of course.

I like words. I love their power. Sometimes I know of the ways and have the means to wield this power. But most often than not my figurative inadequacy keeps me from enjoying words. I keep trying to be utterly comfortable with them.

Reading is one way to be comfortable with words. Writing is another. Both require absolute concentration. Basic education and interest are enough to be a good reader of words. Very good education and research and perseverance are but three of the many requirements to be good at stringing words together for optimum power.

On to my love affair with words...