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While there may be some things that I am certain of, like my name (which is, last time I checked, Aubrey Monteroso Angeles) - I was never certain of a lot of things.
I was born November 20, 1988 and I’ll be turning twenty in a few months. At my current age, I don’t think I’m sure that I know what I want or who I am. Not that I am experiencing some sort of identity crisis – what I may be experiencing right now is a dissatisfaction on the current state of things.
So how does one even begin to write an autobiography without sounding so… boring? I don’t want to make this into a chronological account of events. I want it to be more on who I am, rather than what merely happened in my life.
One thing’s for sure: it would pretty much be writing a history of my uncertainties.
Currently, I am a BA Communication student in the University of the Philippines, Baguio. My major is Journalism – I like it, although I don’t recall it being a childhood dream. When I was a kid, I used to dream of being a nurse. It was a typical dream coming from a child whose mother is a nurse. And then I started dreaming of being an architectural engineer. My father is a graduate of mining engineering.
Logically speaking, as a child I dreamt of being what my parents are – or at least partly.
When I was in the fifth grade, most of my teachers recognized my capacity to write well – some insisted that I take up a writing course someday. I, however, had other plans.
The way my mindset changed throughout the course of my young life is rather random; thus, I believe, casting doubt on my sanity.
Ever since I was in kindergarten I had been doodling. By doodle, I mean wasting valuable sheets of paper, drawing big-headed people (literally, of course – think Bratz). As I progressed through elementary years, I was able to produce rather beautiful sketches. I also won a clay sculpture contest (with the help of a fellow “artist”) and a few other art contests. When I entered first year high school, I was starting to think of a life with the arts.
And then the school principal (nosy old nun) decided to put me in the school paper.
Funny, how the school paper changed my life course.
By the time I got the job of associate editor of the literary page, I started thinking of becoming a writer in the future. It wasn’t like it was some sort of epiphany, but it’s something. I forgot all about the arts, eventually (see, most of my editorial cartoons went down the bin, given that my superiors thought I was rather too feminine with my work).
So anyway, all the seminars and press conferences I went to during my secondary years got to me. At my fourth year I became editor-in-chief of the school paper (which by the way, has the lousy name of The Williamite Gazette, courtesy of the school administration – I don’t know if it still has the same name, or if it still exists). I wasn’t so happy with the position as much as other people would have been; given the kind of responsibilities it hauled me into and the kind of people I had to deal with (like the school principal). However, it greatly influenced my way of thinking.
The applications I sent to the University of the Philippines and the University of Sto. Tomas for a tertiary education contained proof of what I believed I wanted to be. A journalism student.
So I guess I wanted to be a journalist. It felt like I was so sure of what I wanted to be. I was one of those people who thought that by the time I entered university life, I would have a map of where I wanted to be.
How clichéd.
It was the second semester of my first year in college that my certainty in my course started diminishing. I took up Philosophical Analysis (Philosophy I) under Professor Leticia Tolentino. I swear, she changed everything. The subject created an undeniable feeling within me – a feeling I prefer calling dissatisfaction.
(The reason why I prefer using the term dissatisfaction will later be revealed.)
One semester later, I took up a course on Social, Political and Economic Philosophy (Social Science II) and Contemporary Philosophy (Philosophy 113), both of which introduced me to abstract thinking. One challenged my interpretation not only of social, political and economic theories but also of human nature, while the other challenged my interpretation of reality itself.
Personal favorites are Machiavelli and Derrida.
Niccolò Machiavelli is an Italian political philosopher whose influential writing (although rather amoral) turned his name into a synonym of deception. He wrote The Prince which made a lasting impression on my mind – given that I adored the fact that Machiavelli implied that to instill fear among one’s subjects is better than instilling love.
As for Jacques Derrida…
Well let’s just put it this way: he pretty much influenced who I am now, how I think, and how I interact with people.
Derrida is a French philosopher who originated deconstruction. A lot of people like to think that they know what deconstruction means, but let me tell you what I think – I don’t think so.
To be able to interpret deconstruction, one has to repeatedly read Derrida and spend days and nights thinking in rather irrational but rational ways.
Deconstruction is a method of analyzing texts based on the theory that language is inherently unstable and shifting. The reader, rather than the author, is central in determining meaning.
This means that I am not giving you anything at all. What you get from this that I have written is your interpretation of what I have written. Since meaning is arbitrary and to “understand” is to take something as meant, I have enough guts to tell you that you are merely interpreting what I have written – not “understanding.” The original meaning of what I have written is lost upon another’s interpretation.
Only I know what I mean, after all. The rest of you are just… speculating.
So now I come to the part on why I keep calling this that I am feeling, dissatisfaction. A lot of people may say that it’s probably guilt or regret – however, let me remind you that I think in different ways. The way you see things is definitely not the way I see things. For example, you say impression management, I say deception.
But enough of that.
If anyone’s having trouble interpreting the way I am thinking, they can look up those two guys I mentioned back there.
I then took up Modern Philosophy the following semester, which pretty much sealed the insanity in. Honestly, I am not having any trouble seeing the borderlines of insanity, since I may cross it any day now. Mind you, I think I know how to get back.
Combine me and all the philosophy courses I’ve taken up and what do you get? A Journalism student who wants to embark on a life with philosophy. Yes, that definitely destroys everything.
For almost three years, I have been dealing with the fact that I want to shift to another course, but not being able to do so. It’s not that I hate Journalism, I just want something else.
However, I can't just shift to another course; while lots of people shift courses whenever they feel that the course they are in is not right, my case is rather different.
One, my parents, Ricardo and Asuncion, didn’t force me into Journalism. Although they had preferred that I be in the medicine profession, when they learnt that I “wanted” to become a journalist, they set aside what they wanted and let me be what I wanted to be.
After some time, my parents got over the fact that I wasn’t going to be in the medicine profession. Before long, they were starting to become excited over me becoming a journalist. My father used to tell me that as long as it makes me happy, they’ll be there to support me.
And then, I realized that I wanted to be in another profession. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t. I’m not trying to be a martyr. I’m merely trying to be fair. My parents let me have my way once and became happy for me, so I guess I can do the same for them. Of course, I’m not happy in the sense of the dictionary meaning of the word, more like, happy in a rather convoluted way.
Happy in a convoluted way. Yeah, let’s stick with that.
Two, it’s my mother’s brother who’s paying for my tuition. While shifting to another course in the form of Philosophy is tempting, I don’t want hard-earned money to go to waste. I’m trying to be rational; it doesn’t rain money, after all.
Three, if I graduate with a degree in Philosophy, teaching is a number one option. I tend to over-analyze things, therefore, I think I will make my students’ lives complicated. Besides, I don’t think that a teaching career will help me achieve any of my long-term goals. Taking a Philosophy course in the Philippines is not ideal.
On the other hand, if I do shift to a course in Philosophy, I think that this feeling of dissatisfaction will ebb away. Besides, Philosophy welcomes me and my insanity. It entertains my randomness in ways Journalism doesn’t, won’t, can't.
Over-analysis of things is a hobby of mine; call it an illness if you will. It brings forth paranoia, that which I am rather familiar of. Paranoia is something that Journalism forces out of me but follows me in the deepest recesses of my mind.
I’ve become rather paranoid over the years since I began my tertiary education. I do not know whether it has something to do with my course or anything else that I have in my life right now – but I am quite sure that it makes my blood rush into various parts of my body whenever my heart beats faster than normal, thus, keeping my blood from clotting wherever, which in turn, keeps me alive.
Anyway, there’s not a single chance that I will shift to a course in Philosophy now. I am now in my senior year. Hopefully, I’ll be able to graduate at April 2009. For the time being, I just have to set aside what I want for what there is.
Oftentimes, I like to think that Journalism and its nature of rationality is supposed to drive me into normalcy. So far, the only thing it’s driven me into is far more peculiarity.
June 2008
I was born November 20, 1988 and I’ll be turning twenty in a few months. At my current age, I don’t think I’m sure that I know what I want or who I am. Not that I am experiencing some sort of identity crisis – what I may be experiencing right now is a dissatisfaction on the current state of things.
So how does one even begin to write an autobiography without sounding so… boring? I don’t want to make this into a chronological account of events. I want it to be more on who I am, rather than what merely happened in my life.
One thing’s for sure: it would pretty much be writing a history of my uncertainties.
Currently, I am a BA Communication student in the University of the Philippines, Baguio. My major is Journalism – I like it, although I don’t recall it being a childhood dream. When I was a kid, I used to dream of being a nurse. It was a typical dream coming from a child whose mother is a nurse. And then I started dreaming of being an architectural engineer. My father is a graduate of mining engineering.
Logically speaking, as a child I dreamt of being what my parents are – or at least partly.
When I was in the fifth grade, most of my teachers recognized my capacity to write well – some insisted that I take up a writing course someday. I, however, had other plans.
The way my mindset changed throughout the course of my young life is rather random; thus, I believe, casting doubt on my sanity.
Ever since I was in kindergarten I had been doodling. By doodle, I mean wasting valuable sheets of paper, drawing big-headed people (literally, of course – think Bratz). As I progressed through elementary years, I was able to produce rather beautiful sketches. I also won a clay sculpture contest (with the help of a fellow “artist”) and a few other art contests. When I entered first year high school, I was starting to think of a life with the arts.
And then the school principal (nosy old nun) decided to put me in the school paper.
Funny, how the school paper changed my life course.
By the time I got the job of associate editor of the literary page, I started thinking of becoming a writer in the future. It wasn’t like it was some sort of epiphany, but it’s something. I forgot all about the arts, eventually (see, most of my editorial cartoons went down the bin, given that my superiors thought I was rather too feminine with my work).
So anyway, all the seminars and press conferences I went to during my secondary years got to me. At my fourth year I became editor-in-chief of the school paper (which by the way, has the lousy name of The Williamite Gazette, courtesy of the school administration – I don’t know if it still has the same name, or if it still exists). I wasn’t so happy with the position as much as other people would have been; given the kind of responsibilities it hauled me into and the kind of people I had to deal with (like the school principal). However, it greatly influenced my way of thinking.
The applications I sent to the University of the Philippines and the University of Sto. Tomas for a tertiary education contained proof of what I believed I wanted to be. A journalism student.
So I guess I wanted to be a journalist. It felt like I was so sure of what I wanted to be. I was one of those people who thought that by the time I entered university life, I would have a map of where I wanted to be.
How clichéd.
It was the second semester of my first year in college that my certainty in my course started diminishing. I took up Philosophical Analysis (Philosophy I) under Professor Leticia Tolentino. I swear, she changed everything. The subject created an undeniable feeling within me – a feeling I prefer calling dissatisfaction.
(The reason why I prefer using the term dissatisfaction will later be revealed.)
One semester later, I took up a course on Social, Political and Economic Philosophy (Social Science II) and Contemporary Philosophy (Philosophy 113), both of which introduced me to abstract thinking. One challenged my interpretation not only of social, political and economic theories but also of human nature, while the other challenged my interpretation of reality itself.
Personal favorites are Machiavelli and Derrida.
Niccolò Machiavelli is an Italian political philosopher whose influential writing (although rather amoral) turned his name into a synonym of deception. He wrote The Prince which made a lasting impression on my mind – given that I adored the fact that Machiavelli implied that to instill fear among one’s subjects is better than instilling love.
As for Jacques Derrida…
Well let’s just put it this way: he pretty much influenced who I am now, how I think, and how I interact with people.
Derrida is a French philosopher who originated deconstruction. A lot of people like to think that they know what deconstruction means, but let me tell you what I think – I don’t think so.
To be able to interpret deconstruction, one has to repeatedly read Derrida and spend days and nights thinking in rather irrational but rational ways.
Deconstruction is a method of analyzing texts based on the theory that language is inherently unstable and shifting. The reader, rather than the author, is central in determining meaning.
This means that I am not giving you anything at all. What you get from this that I have written is your interpretation of what I have written. Since meaning is arbitrary and to “understand” is to take something as meant, I have enough guts to tell you that you are merely interpreting what I have written – not “understanding.” The original meaning of what I have written is lost upon another’s interpretation.
Only I know what I mean, after all. The rest of you are just… speculating.
So now I come to the part on why I keep calling this that I am feeling, dissatisfaction. A lot of people may say that it’s probably guilt or regret – however, let me remind you that I think in different ways. The way you see things is definitely not the way I see things. For example, you say impression management, I say deception.
But enough of that.
If anyone’s having trouble interpreting the way I am thinking, they can look up those two guys I mentioned back there.
I then took up Modern Philosophy the following semester, which pretty much sealed the insanity in. Honestly, I am not having any trouble seeing the borderlines of insanity, since I may cross it any day now. Mind you, I think I know how to get back.
Combine me and all the philosophy courses I’ve taken up and what do you get? A Journalism student who wants to embark on a life with philosophy. Yes, that definitely destroys everything.
For almost three years, I have been dealing with the fact that I want to shift to another course, but not being able to do so. It’s not that I hate Journalism, I just want something else.
However, I can't just shift to another course; while lots of people shift courses whenever they feel that the course they are in is not right, my case is rather different.
One, my parents, Ricardo and Asuncion, didn’t force me into Journalism. Although they had preferred that I be in the medicine profession, when they learnt that I “wanted” to become a journalist, they set aside what they wanted and let me be what I wanted to be.
After some time, my parents got over the fact that I wasn’t going to be in the medicine profession. Before long, they were starting to become excited over me becoming a journalist. My father used to tell me that as long as it makes me happy, they’ll be there to support me.
And then, I realized that I wanted to be in another profession. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t. I’m not trying to be a martyr. I’m merely trying to be fair. My parents let me have my way once and became happy for me, so I guess I can do the same for them. Of course, I’m not happy in the sense of the dictionary meaning of the word, more like, happy in a rather convoluted way.
Happy in a convoluted way. Yeah, let’s stick with that.
Two, it’s my mother’s brother who’s paying for my tuition. While shifting to another course in the form of Philosophy is tempting, I don’t want hard-earned money to go to waste. I’m trying to be rational; it doesn’t rain money, after all.
Three, if I graduate with a degree in Philosophy, teaching is a number one option. I tend to over-analyze things, therefore, I think I will make my students’ lives complicated. Besides, I don’t think that a teaching career will help me achieve any of my long-term goals. Taking a Philosophy course in the Philippines is not ideal.
On the other hand, if I do shift to a course in Philosophy, I think that this feeling of dissatisfaction will ebb away. Besides, Philosophy welcomes me and my insanity. It entertains my randomness in ways Journalism doesn’t, won’t, can't.
Over-analysis of things is a hobby of mine; call it an illness if you will. It brings forth paranoia, that which I am rather familiar of. Paranoia is something that Journalism forces out of me but follows me in the deepest recesses of my mind.
I’ve become rather paranoid over the years since I began my tertiary education. I do not know whether it has something to do with my course or anything else that I have in my life right now – but I am quite sure that it makes my blood rush into various parts of my body whenever my heart beats faster than normal, thus, keeping my blood from clotting wherever, which in turn, keeps me alive.
Anyway, there’s not a single chance that I will shift to a course in Philosophy now. I am now in my senior year. Hopefully, I’ll be able to graduate at April 2009. For the time being, I just have to set aside what I want for what there is.
Oftentimes, I like to think that Journalism and its nature of rationality is supposed to drive me into normalcy. So far, the only thing it’s driven me into is far more peculiarity.
June 2008
hello aubrey. love your new blog. can't wait to read more. i'll be waiting for the entry about the so-called "freedom" of journalists . tata! :-)