My Enderun Essay 1: WHAT MAKES ME, ME.

WHAT MAKES ME, ME.

For days I have struggled of thinking of what I should write in this essay. It is not until a friend of mine finally suggested that I make a personal essay, not something that the people in the institution may think of as, how Pilipinos say, “bola”. When I asked her what my topic could be, she finally came up with “How you became YOU”.

I have pondered on this question a million times even before this essay was requested. “How DID I became ME?”

I may go on and on for hours of tales from when I’m born, when I made my mistakes, when I laughed and became proud. But, thinking that I might bore whoever is going to read this, I decided to make this a run-through of whatever goes on in my mind. Maybe then, we can together realize what makes me my own self.

As I write this, I’m still at a loss figuring out what words to use. After all, I need to be careful. A word may mean a million different things. I would not want them to get the wrong idea of who I really am.

And then it hit me—WRITING. Indeed, words form me. My thoughts, my feelings—they all come in words. It’s a certain passion I share with few people. I never really dreamed of being an open book for people to read. The time I discovered this “gift” was when I was unable to control my feelings, and since I had very few friends, I got a pen and paper and started writing. It was then I felt whatever they were saying that circumstances may occur when your body can’t keep up with what your mind is saying. Words eagerly came out of hiding. Feelings I never thought I felt came rushing out—anger, hate, happiness and more. My hands tumbled, my grammar, ridiculous, and my hand writing? Horrible. Barely anything can be read. But it felt good. After days, I evolved from writing diary compositions to short stories to poems. For the few who read my stories, they found a certain liking or connection with my characters, or the plot. They would ask me to either continue the story, or make more. Gladly, I accept.

Another passion of mine may be found deep in the depths of my family tree—both mother’s side and father’s. What is it? MUSIC. In the matriarchal side of my family, they were all, somewhat, required to play a musical instrument. While in the patriarchal side, simply has “profound” taste in music. Music from every generation, either of hopeless romantics or music during the revolution to those angsty ballads are flowing through my veins like blood. There is just something about how the melody compliments the lyrics and how the lyrics go through you. Other than writing, music was what held me together through good times and bad. I found another outlet when a pen is not around. When there came a time that I was in a state of depression, people would catch me in a corner listening to music. Even in random moments, people would catch me humming, if not singing to myself.

There came a certain stage in my life wherein I asked myself what my sole purpose could be. It is with this that my passion for cooking was ignited. I found out that my purpose was to make others happy—in other words, MAKING A DIFFERENCE. It is a known fact that food make people happy. Being a Pilipino, it has been instilled in our culture even long before we were colonized by foreign countries, that eating creates a certain bind in every Pilipino, even in every culture. Seeing how a certain dish can never fail to bring joy and happiness to people, I found cooking to be my calling.

It is with these that I realize how I became ME—the passion for a connection, either to myself or to others. How I interact with others, how I want to make a difference—THAT’S what formed me into who I am now; my attitude and mannerisms are all based into this simple, yet unending chain. It is no wonder that my goal be as simple—to be happy by making others happy.