Medicine vs. Creative Writing?

The UP journalism club, with a well-established reputation of producing excellent journalists, invited the FEU Advocate for a forum on Libel just last January 26. One of our writers, little-but-terrible Larra Domingo, brought me a form containing the requirements of the Creative Writing course under UP’s College of Arts and Letters. I could satisfy most of the requirements but I can’t deny that some part of me is still somewhat inclined to Medicine.

I have much great respect to the practice of Medicine which probably reared ambivalence in fully pursuing the course. I don’t want to be half-hearted when I finally enroll in any Med programs in the country. This line of thought kept nagging in the back of my head while reading the full context of the Creative Writing’s requisite list.

On Creative Writing
The first books that I’ve read are R.L. Stine’s Goosebumps. When I started reading Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Hound of the Baskervilles triggered my habit of spending siesta time with a book, iced tea and some chips. I loved and admired Sherlock Holmes. Then, during one visit of my cousins from Marikina—Ate Kat and Ate Kim—they insisted in going to Southmall. As these two shared the same love of books, the first store that we were in was National Bookstore prowling around the fiction section. After a seemingly long search, because it didn’t exactly take longer than an hour, we finally queued for the cashier. I was lost in discussion about video games when they suddenly let out a controlled and well-disciplined, as if a toilet-trained toddler, shriek upon the sight of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. They were like drug pushers for me, so I grabbed one copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone—that’s when I fell in love with Joanne Katherine Rowling. After finishing it, that’s when I wanted to learn how to write. Such event impregnated me with a dream of producing my own novel, which is still in its first trimester. This is why I want to pursue the course.

But Medicine has an undeniably strong pull on me. Plus the idea that I can still write even if I aimed on being a doctor somehow multiplies ambivalence by four—which again brings me back to an earlier conclusion of not applying as a Med student unless I am fully ready and willing to devote half a decade, and more, in mastering the nooks and cranny of human anatomy and physiology.

Any thoughts?

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Curriculum Vitae

I found my previous file! During our community immersion last semester, we did the same personal profile for the compilation. And we were asked again to provide the same for our geriatric concept. By blind thought, I just thought to post it here. ^_^

EMAIL ADDRESS:
edge_guevara@yahoo.com, www.livewire-edge.blogspot.com
HOBBIES: writing, reading novels and other interesting reads, listening to music, blogging, watching movies, travelling, volleyball, badminton, playing video games; (woohoo!) FF!, Tekken, Pocket Fighter, Audition, RO and RAN Online, photography, dancing and sleeping (haha!)


Educational Background:
Primary Education: Saint Francis of Assisi College System – Main Campus, Las Pinas City
Secondary Education: Saint Francis of Assisi College System Science High School
Tertiary Education: Far Eastern University - Manila

Motto: “Huwag ka’ng masiba kung nilibre ka lang”

Unforgettable Experience:
I may appear as someone whose shyness seems to be a boring history subject, more like devoured by a nonexistent Dodo bird, but I think, or what I like to believe, I retained a decent healthy amount of self-respect. Such miniature, tiny and Tinkerbell-like aura of bashfulness announced its existence while performing, which is hopefully perceived as dancing and not some tribal ritual sacrifice, in front of weathered adults. Since the location is populated by dorms and apartments of collegiate students, it is, to my misfortune, inevitable for FEU studes or UST passersby to see what the seemingly senile activist movement is all about. Though hugely disbelieving, I felt embarrassed of my feeble attempt to move my extremities—dancing.
Let’s just say that I’ve done it before, during our community immersion at Balubad, Cavite, but I was holding on the fact that I won’t see those people ever again, which is like being under the influence of alcohol making me braver and nonchalant of any disgrace. Hopefully, this holds true even for the recent atrocity because those people, whose eyes are cursed by my dancing, would probably, hopefully surreal, see me again. Well in any case, I was able to discover that I’m not exactly shameless—or so I think.

Learning Insights:
Disgustingly, I’m a pessimist. I wasn’t expecting the number of geriatric clients who showed up for our program. I had certain prejudices with inhabitants of Manila. Provincial people are, in my perception, easier to converse with and invite. Such chauvinism hindered my usually strong vigor in being more friendly and amicable to community people. My enthusiasm was blatantly hampered by such premature misconceptions, this could be attested by my groupmates in our previous community immersion. Fortunately, I was able to revise such resolve at a conducive time. Wallowing in such mediocre attitude longer would result to no ones upliftment, especially our group’s. This taught me the need to always have an open mind and delete unnecessary judgmental stereotyped files in my mind’s desktop, which is thankfully reformatted by the experience.

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Point of Exhaustion

There comes a time when you’re tired of trying to explain your side over and over again, especially when you know that you’re on the right track while people see that you as evil. The first thing that I assure before explaining myself is that I am talking to people who are open-minded. Stubborn, shallow or closed minded persons are useless, and pointless, to talk to. They can only see from their own perspective and will fail to incorporate your vision despite what reality served.

Here’s the thing, no decision is done haphazardly. For people who decides based on gut feeling and ‘heart’ those are un-sound judgments. First of all, the heart is a muscle. It is an organ that pumps blood. Logically, use your brain to address any situation. No matter how personal or involved you are, for you to decide objectively, you should see clearly.

Emotional decisions are derived from immature and childish thought process. Often, decisions resulting based on mood are biased and is aimed for the benefit of the limited few. People who makes subjective decision-making, or drives with overly personal fuel, are those who fail to see the bigger picture, a better understanding of such occurrence or the definition of a scenario.

Let’s just say that I’m through explaining myself to such people. I cannot waste my time again. I will only explain myself one last time and that’s it. I’m through. It’s not my responsibility to open the minds of immature thinking and shallow judgment.

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Cold and Really Bruised

(warning: another personal thing - well not anymore)

Being in a position of power means extensive sacrifice and a huge amount of self-discipline. I will not dwell on the former but rather expound on the latter. Before I took the editorial exam which halfly decided my executive editorship in the publication, I had no idea of what I was going to face. All I know then, after the result was divulged and I was to fit in the shoes of a second highest officer, I made a vow.

It was like getting married to the publication, which the former EIC, Aubrey Morla, puts it as “to put Advo (the publication) above everything else”. I know myself, I know how I would behave so I was confident that I will fulfill every word in the ME’s job description. I also know that I never settle for second best, that I will do what I can as long as it’s needed, which I eventually did.

I opened the year standing for the EB’s solidarity, an unfaltering strong unit. Whatever vomit I made then, I had to swallow yesterday. Nothing tastes as bitter. The decision to dismiss one of the EB was deemed as the most rational step for Advo. I was in doubt at first, but eventually resolved that by objective evaluation it simply had to be done.

Setting that aside, I feel as if there are only a few people who could see behind such actions. That I, and probably Dwight, have to tolerate the perception of being branded as Batman’s Joker – which is more on me than anybody else. I would always stand in front of the staffers during assemblies and declare both good and bad news – emphasis on the bad. To which I have always took the blow. I swallowed piercing stares, snippets of heavy air, eventual grimaces and even indirect angry verbalizations. If I am a weakling, my ego would have been brought to the Emergency Room due to multiple stab wounds and concussions. But I always sought to keep every bit of pain to myself and a few trusted beings. I took the job, I should bear its weight and not pass it on to anyone else.

Yet I cannot deny the fact that the things I do are indeed villainy for most. Though I hold a steady unshaken ground, there will be those who are bound to blow strong winds – cast a storm. If it makes them happy, yes you are effective in making me cold and probably crumble from inside. I just pray that they see things for what they are, that no man, including me, is naturally evil. That human is humane. That such decisions are derived from a series of intellectual process and not merely toying with a Ouija board and play ‘emotion’-of-the-glass.

I won’t even apologize, but I do feel sorry for myself. Sorry that I have to become someone I never thought I could be, or even had to be. Sorry that I am more of an enemy than a friend – most of the time. But I stand by all of my decisions. All of them were made for the welfare of my wife, despite the fact that I am bound to divorce her in less than four months.

I just pray that I will be able to forgive myself for my whole term as ME. I hope that I could forgive myself for doing the right things but wronging others. If I were to choose, I wish I could reverse time for a few months and remedy issues before they got out of hand – but I can’t.

So I pray for strength for the remaining months of my term, for the fire that will come, for the strong cold winds, for the silent jeers, for whatever knives thrown at me.

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