As The Stars ALign

I wanted to live in an alternate timeline where I had received “Congratulations” in my email. Thinking of what practicality lies ahead in a path connected to my senior high school strand. As I want to think, being practical is an easy way out for the praise of many. Yet, here I am pursuing something unexpected—wherein stars aligned me to something beyond the usual road of what people expect from me. 

I applied countless times, trying to be reconsidered for other UP systems to courses I never considered taking, just to make sure I got into UP. During those times, I kept my expectations low since rejection after rejections were slammed in my face. Waking up to emails never coming, to apologies that were half-meant. My heart was shattered. The life I dream of getting into this school slowly fades away. 

Luckily, some schools still opened their doors for me, accepting the fruits of my labour. But the journey ahead was not easy. Crammed spaces, waiting, travel time and cost, rejections, and many more shenanigans waiting to tear me down. Yet, a glimmer of hope appeared—a UP system has gone through another reconsideration process. As I tried my luck, I was still pessimistic about what was ahead. I know for a fact that many students cling to what little hope they have just to be included as well, not just me, for sure. But what can hurt more than being rejected? Never trying in the first place. 

Somehow, I got into UP Mindanao, the joy I had never felt before; I almost burst out crying with happiness, never expecting the acceptance of being considered as an official UP student.

The program that aligned with me was the Bachelor of Arts in English, Major in Creative Writing. At first, I never knew that it was a creative writing major, for I expected it to be a general English course, or so I thought. With that realization, I remembered how I really like reading books, and saw it as an opportunity to perhaps try writing, as there are moments in my life where I see writing stories as fun, a way to immerse myself in life, creatively.

But doubts never left my head, for my path was never what I was trained for. I write because I tried to be a school journalist as a side hobby, not being a full-time writer. Yet, an underlying sense of comfort boosts my spirit to pursue this path. A professor mentioned that for the number of years you live on this planet, you could already write something. I really do feel the connection I had with my program; improving the best of my abilities, for the sake of my future as well. Yet some lingering thoughts stayed, contemplating my decisions in life.

The reason I pursued my course was that I was eager to write like my peers in high school. Writing in school papers influenced me to amplify my voice on a platform I never thought I could use before. That leverage prepared me for this program; though my thoughts were limited, I pursued and gave voice to things and thoughts I cared for the most. Additionally, friends and family also played a big role in my love for writing. One of my best friends is a catalyst in bringing me love for writing, as I saw her love for the arts translate academically. On the other hand, my Mother and Uncles also wrote for the school newspaper. They were really vocal about their beliefs and gave me tips on how to write my editorial paper. Those influences were amplifiers that gave me the strength to continue forward, as I search for my purpose in life. 

Throughout my journey as a Creative Writing major, I have had my ups and downs. Though I had my general knowledge in writing, I wasn’t particularly a writer myself. The help of the class gave me a meaningful understanding of how and what to write in my papers. As a non-writer, being introduced to Creative Writing helps me to build my fundamentals as a writer. My intimate writing to a stranger–in my case, if it ever happened, my readers–for me was just a basic message to someone. And it really gave me a clearer view of what I can improve on in the future.

As I got introduced to writing essays, I thought of it as a piece of cake, since I had written many essays before. But reality hit hard. It was difficult from the get-go to write an exceptional essay, a food essay to say the least. The food that I chose in the essay was my Mom’s Adobo; however, at that time, it was all I could think of since the pressure was getting to me. I know how plain adobo is, and I don’t know how I could make it as unique as possible. Even the notes of my professor from my draft requested how to make it uniquely ours, since there are countless varieties of adobos. Supposedly, I stick to my gut on remembering the ingredients on how my Mom cooks Adobo, since she sent me here to Davao to be independent. However, due to some considerations, I reach out for help with my endeavors. Her words struck me with comfort as my first few months in Davao were lonely. Her help with jotting down her process and ingredients brought the flavors to mind. That’s why after I finished submitting my assignment, I cooked her adobo—a symbol of remembrance of my mother's comfort back home.

My fiction was a bit on the wrong side of what was instructed, though I did see it at that time. My realist fiction talks about this Black Lady I saw walking down the apartment we were staying at back at Muntinlupa, and I kinda tweaked it to my life at that time of growing up in a religious family. Though it was nice, the concept of being far beyond the understanding of people is considered to be a speculative fiction; those were the notes of my professor. I had an idea that I could tell in my realist fiction; however, I had contemplated whether I would write it since it is a private matter regarding who I was as a being. Even my parents never knew who I was; only a few of my closest friends knew, and fear did sneak in from behind. Finishing up my fiction, there were signs in my life that really held me back from submitting my story, as I question whether my grades or dignity would play a role in my life moving forward. Nevertheless, I submitted my fiction and prayed to beings above that love should have no boundaries. As a queer writer, I still have difficulties telling people that, for the sake of love from my parents, it continues to surge in my mind.

I had my fair share of drama, but the concept of doing a skit was an event I was excited for. As a group, we had many concepts of what we should do in the skit. But that was perhaps the problem, as we never had a solid basis for what we should follow. We wanted something thrilling, but at the same time, comedy was added to our script. During rehearsals, we already felt that something was off. Some scenes didn’t connect well, and the tone kept changing. Still, we pushed through, hoping it would come together in the end. Nevertheless,s what we created fell flat at the finale—though we knew what was coming, we pursued and took the notes given.

Poem is one of those literary arts that I never had a good relationship with, as I joined countless poem reciting competitions, but never poem making. I tried to do countless poems in the past, but they really didn’t stick out to me. So the challenge moving forward was to create a poem about a certain politician. We had an idea about an infamous person, causing headlines left and right in Congress. None other than Kiko Barzaga, a new politician known for his cat campaign, meowing and showing off his cats in advertising himself during the campaign. My partner in poetry and I talk about his capabilities as a leader, since that approach fits him more. We really tried to roast him, talking about all his talk, but no game remarks in the position. Though we know that he is not that popular historically, he is making headlines as of right now. And that being said, the notes were expected as Kiko Barzaga isn’t well known to the masses. They knew him, but not to that extent. Although we were taught about how to compare him to other politicians, we opted for a more general approach to describing him as a person in power, rather than comparing him to the famous Kiko. 

My first semester at UP Mindanao as a Creative Writing major strengthened my appreciation for the arts in ways I didn’t expect. Being surrounded by people who shared similar interests made me feel like I belonged, even when I doubted myself. I began to understand that being a Humanities student comes with its own struggles—having to constantly explain the value of what we do, and learning how our work can go beyond the classroom.

Through our lessons and activities, I realized that writing is not only about personal expression but also about responsibility. Our words can reflect real experiences, raise awareness, and speak for communities that are often unheard. This semester taught me that creative writing is not just about creativity, but about amplifying our voices meaningfully, even when we are still figuring out what our voice sounds like.