The Flight of the Rocketman

"Have you practiced so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?" -- "Song for Myself, Walt Whitman

I suddenly realized that the new comment space on my blog doesn't send the comments to my e-mail and I'd have to read it on the site itself to see what comments have been placed on my blog. And whoa!

I mean... WHOA!!!

Someone just sent a comment that I write badly. He/she (though the name is Kathy so I'm guessing it is a she) says that I write badly and that she doesn't understand how I got published in the first place. Ouch! 25 points of damage to my writer's ego. I know I cannot possibly please everybody but this is the first real bad comment I've heard about my work since I've begun writing. I really feel bad about it. Ouch!!! I'm in real pain.

Anyhow... I just got back from a fantastic vacation yesterday. I was in the tiny seaside town of Mauban in Quezon province. On our arrival, we got on a boat and took a 40 minute boat ride to the island of Cagbalete where my friend's family owns land there. So, pretty much, we were in a private beach, all to ourselves.

Suffice to say, I got dark. I got burned. And I love it! I finally have that beach tan I was dying for for the past 4 to 5 years... And my body is in pain because I played soccer in the beach. The following day, with my body in pain (and still out of breath) we played kick-ball. It's kind of like baseball but we don't have a bat and we don't have a baseball; so we just rolled the football towards the plate and the "batter" kicks it (instead of batting it). It was so much fun. Afterwards, we played dodge ball. It was just so amazing to get so sporty in a beach. I was sweating like a pig (do pigs really sweat? I thought that was why they love to stay in the mud because that is how they keep cool?) and I was burning under the sun. I could feel my muscles tense and stretch and improve and as I was losing breath, I realised, I was being sporty in the beach. How cool is that? He he he

You have to excuse my utter thrill of having played sports in the beach. I'm not a sporty person at all. I used to play a lot of volleyball back in High School but then again, that wasn't enough. It's just the whole idea of it. I remember last year, when I was at Boracay, I saw a group of young guys and girls (they were probably freshmen and sophomore's in college) who drew out in the sand a rectangle where they played soccer and it was so nice to see this group of young boys and girls having fun at the beach. In a sense, I was envious of them. It didn't matter to them if they were winning or losing, playing badly or playing extremely well; what was important was having fun with the rest of the gang in a paradise-like island.

That's the same way I felt in Cagbalete except that I was in a private beach, so the idea that nobody was watching helped me become less self-conscious. But of course, it didn't reduce my competative spirit in any way. I was still as competative as ever, needing to win. Thank God in both games, my team won.

How come I feel like I just spelled "competative" incorrectly? Damn! I think I spelled it incorrectly.

Someone, an anonymous commentor in my blog, mentioned that "just when I thought Wanngo (it's 2 "g"s and 1 "n") stopped being mushy, here he goes again. Well, what can I do? This person has been on my mind as of late. Can't seem to shake this person out of my hair. I don't have the capacity to let go, it seems...

And yet again, this person, drugged out completely to the point of stupidity texted again. This person was looking for me in Boracay. Probably wanted a kiss... I was nowhere near.

Goodness! I still can't get that comment out of my head! I'm a bad writer! 1 person thinks I'm a bad writer! I have to know why they think that way! What can I do to improve? I know I can't please everybody but at least, I should be able to know what is it in my writing that some people find bad. This will be in my head for weeks...