When I was in grade seven, I received a call from The Philippine Daily Inquirer saying that I was nominated for kids’r’rrific, a section that features talented kids. At first, I thought it was a prank. I was going to slam the receiver when the person said I was nominated by Precilla and Amanda, who were coincidentally hanging out at my house along with the rest of my PJAM barkada. Forgetting that I had someone on the phone, I screamed at my friends, “Ninominate ninyo ako?”
Amanda was like, “Happy birthday!” Apparently they sent the nominations a long time ago without knowing when PDI would respond or if the newspaper ever will. They just wanted to give me something special on my birthday.
It was the coolest experience ever. Before this, I always wanted to be interviewed, and up to now, I wish I could be interviewed again. I know it’s weird, even narcissistic, but I often daydream about being interviewed, and I actually use it whenever something is bothering me like an issue or a problem. I imagine Ellen de Generes or Oprah interviewing me about my problem, helping me analyze the situation until I come up with a solution to it.
When this fantasy happened in readl life though, I remember that I was so chatty with the PDI reporter. I like told her everything, the weirdest was that I said that I was writing a scene in my story Daughters of Aphrodite (DOA) where God appears to the people and tells them “I am Zeus”, and the people say “Ano daw, Jesus?” So ever since I was a kid I already flirted with blasphemy.
I remember feeling shy as the photographer asked me to pose for a picture. He told me to put my leg up and let go. I did the leg thinger, but I was too self-consious. I can see that in the expression on my face, but for other people, I probably just look happy.
I remember reading the article and thinking that it was so awesomely written. I noticed that she exercised her creative license by starting with a paragraph that was supposedly from my DOA story, but it was just an interpretation of what my story could have sounded like.
I remember not liking the title, which the writer meant as a compliment. During that time though, my grandma told me the other half of that phrase: master of none. For several years I’ve felt insecure about my various interests, but now I’m slowly owning it, thinking, I’m a Renaissance woman! Sometimes I wish I could still focus on something.
I remember she got my grade level wrong. I was in grade seven, but she said in her article that I was first year high school. Those things though did not stop me though from loving the article. I even framed it, and up to now it still sits in our living room.
I wonder where that writer is now. I wonder if she’s still writing. I wonder why I never asked for her number so that I could thank her. Anyway, wherever you are, here’s a belated thank you, Margaux Ortiz! Thank you also to the photographer Roger Carpio for taking my picture! You guys rock!
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Note: For some entries in this blog, a few names and details have been deliberately and willingly changed by the author. This is a personal decision made by the author for specific reasons known to her and is not an endorsement for censorship.
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