When I was in High School, I used to remember that I had this strange feeling that kept on bugging me from the inside. I could not exactly pin it out. Well, I guess it was because it wasn’t the right time yet to figure it out. As a child or so while growing up, I was different among other kids. Sometimes, I would feel like there’s some major issue I needed to resolve that barely existed in fact. I would always feel something inexplicable that none of these normal kids experience. Not that I was the weird psycho child. Looking back, I knew I was really different all along.
I kind of got a hint of what bothered me when I was in my Senior year in High School, which at that time I was 15 years old. All my life, I have never gone anywhere outside my small town. I never come to knew my father so I didn’t have anywhere to go but my mother’s place. It was very much isolating living in a small town at a country side. I knew deep down inside my heart that I wasn’t the type of person who could tolerate such kind of isolation. Time passed and somehow I got over that feeling.
Four years after, that feeling revisited me but this time with much more force.
Just after a week of experience in my Senior year in college, I was depressing about how I felt like I was just circling at a single place day after day. I felt like my life wasn’t as exciting as when I was in my freshman year in college, where I was thrilled about experiencing new things in my life. Four years later, there was I in the same exact position, staring blankly ahead and consumed thinking by the unknown. It was in the middle of a Sunday night. I didn’t feel like there’s a spark or even passion running through my veins and I swear it was worse than death. By that time, even though I already had an option as to where I could be given that I was studying at the city during Mondays-Saturdays and I usually was home during Sundays, I still thought like my week was same and repeating. The feeling of isolation came back once again with a vengeance. I’d have to say that I’d handled it a little well because at least I knew what I really wanted to do in my life.
I liked how certain individuals could affect your life in a massive way even without formally meeting them. It was just recently that I was hooked in watching YouTube video blogs. I had come across with wonderful persons I never knew existed before. I had to say that it wasn’t only entertainment that I got from them. They kind of inspired me to unleash my creativity. They let me realized that the sole reason I got frustrated in my life was simply because I wasn’t doing something passionate in my life and instead I was just working and giving feedback to what life necessarily expected me to do under the normal circumstances. I guess it was important for me to say this because watching their videos played a significant role in my life. Their life in videos kind of struck something in me, something that has long been sleeping and finally woke up. In fact, they even answered and helped me figure out what bugged me all my life.
Most of these vloggers loved traveling and obviously were into filming. It was in that moment on I proclaimed to myself my life had definitely come back. My whole life I had no idea what I really desired but by some strange divine intervention plus unusual inspiration I got, my whole world suddenly popped out some brightness. I knew I loved traveling but didn’t knew I loved traveling. It was like solving a math problem, you knew you could solve it but you didn’t know how so it had frustrate you too much you depress yourself to death.
I believed it was the person I was tend towards to – a traveler. Both adventuring on and seeking fun ran through my blood and I knew I had something to do about it and traveling was the answer. I said to one of my vlogs and I would say it again: “Traveling has a big impact and influence on becoming who you are as a person.” I was always curious about other things and I thought through traveling I’d be able to experience a lot of things in this world — witnessing new culture, speaking foreign language, tasting amazing foods, learning new things I have never learned before, meeting new people, creating best friendships, falling in love, and even falling out of love. Just the thought of it kind of excite me and thrilled me at the same time. It made me feel like every single molecules of my body participates in every moments in this world.
Of course, traveling wasn’t enough to satisfy my desires. Traveling is art and I needed an art. Along time ago, I knew I was artsy but I didn’t know how to draw or paint or do something creative on a paper. My hands were such a failure on physical art materials and I used to remember I was always jealous with my classmates who knew how to blend colors altogether. I recognized art in a narrow way, like if I could not draw well that meant I couldn’t be artsy. My concept of art widens when I reached college. I learned art took form into a lot of ways I could choose from. Filming and Writing were the ones I knew I could be good at and fortunately it turned out right. So I convinced myself I was artsy, not just the stereotype one but the better kind of one. I learned being artsy didn’t only take form in a single aspect of art. So I would film whatever my eyes would see and I would write whatever my heart and soul would feel while traveling. I would own writing because it was my calling and I would embrace filming because it was my passion.
As a child, I was correct into thinking I was different because unlike other children, I envision myself moving from one place to another and seeing the world into a greater perspective. I knew all along I would be the modern nomad when I grow up. I would fly, sail, drive, or even walk the world. I would give the world a pass to change me.