literature

A Picture of Failure

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Literature Text

Nothing is probably harsher than a wild dream escaping from your taming hands. This reality-it hurts even more when you have given the dream almost a hundred percent of your effort. The very idea of quantifying the effort that is not supposed to be quantified further proves that you innately ask for compensation from Providence. You complain to make things fair for you: for toiling and then for getting nothing. This picture of injustice is not a keepsake anyone else would like to have.

Failure: this is definitely the term coined by humanity to conceptualize these useless ends attained through tedious means. Failure can be likened to calamity, destructing those hard-earned properties in cities, or changing into disaster the picturesque landscape of nature. What the word means proves to be nothing but utterly negative, and to be something anyone would not want to experience. But what perhaps lie in this bane are traces of boon. This is much like the case of theoretical pure substances. They do exist but containing other traces of elements, thus putting a terminological debility in the usage of the adjective 'pure.' This supports the very nature of reality that nothing too pure possibly exist.

The act of failing seems to obey this same law of impurities. While this may sound like an overrated inspirational line, truth is, great fortune comes from misfortunes. Putting it in another way, failure does contribute to the progress of fulfilling dreams. It may serve as a baby step towards the finish line, but at the very least, a step adds to the progress.

I can only relate the matter at hand by considering my experiences as a person whose fondness is art. My quest of creating art for self-expression requires me to learn the basics as well as to discover my style. The harder part of appreciating art is the latter. The hardest part, however, happens to be the times mistakes are committed when they should not be committed. To make matters worse, painstaking practices for these times seem futile. Failure describes the part in which people can easily judge my art akin to an unpolished work. But reality is otherwise. I have given it my all.

One particular art I am fond of is the visual arts. My true interest for drawing was first realized when I had started watching Japanese animations. I thought it would be great if I could also create the animations myself. Besides visual arts, literature has also become one of my interests. I began liking literature first in the form of creative writing as I learned that it can effectively envisage another world-like drawing. Reading has subsequently become my hobby to learn more from experienced writers. Whenever my teachers in English and in Filipino assign the class to do essays, I have always tried to do them seriously to improve my style and check where my mistakes are. Practicing is the only way to my dream.

Whenever time comes for me to share what I learned, I often fail. One particular instance happened during high school. Our class had to do an original play as our English project. Since some of my stories in Filipino class had been praised by the teacher (in front of the class), a classmate asked me to help create an original storyline. Though I was more than willing to help, I could not since I was afraid my work would be rejected by the class. Other instances also happened while doing other group projects. When we have reports, my classmates used to ask me to do the drawing part. Wanting to make my works look great, I usually ended up having bad results.

Not more than three years ago, I started playing the piano with the help of my sister. I practiced almost every day back then to cope with my new dream of being a virtuoso. But as I began playing the harder musical pieces, my progress had been too slow compared to the period I spent learning the easier pieces. Though the reason of my slowing was obviously the increasing difficulty of what I was playing, I still blamed myself. The result was not satisfactory although I practiced harder. The notion of giving up-that I might not be meant to be a pianist-came to my senses.

What is obvious must be the fact that my life is an epitome of failure. If my life is to be made into a novel, the climax part probably includes a boy alone in a dark room. The story goes as follows: Slightly nodded, his eyes were fixed to his palms while tears were tracing his cheeks. He remembered his failures-all of them. The boy moved his hands towards his face, covering his eyes. He motioned them upward, his fingers brushing through his hair. As his eyes were revealed, they became larger as if aghast. After he cried the last tear he could ever make, he thought, "I failed."

Some reader will perhaps think it is the end. However, some other readers may notice that the resolution of the story is yet to be revealed. That is, every conflict must have a solution unless it is meant to be unresolved. In my story, the lesson is that everything has a purpose. Even failure is but a part of the process in achieving a goal. I fail not because of total helplessness. My failure serves the purpose of reminding me that I have more to understand. In some other cases, failure reminds me that my mindset is amiss. When I tend to be perfectionist, I am thinking that I should produce outstanding outputs. But aiming perfection can only attributed to one thing: my selfishness. To flaunt turns out to be my goal instead of my original dream. I am afraid to try, having considered what others might possibly think.

The part where I fail is probably the cruelest chapter of my book. It leaves behind a scar to my mind, having felt an unfavorable experience. But to my mind, it also seems to be the most efficacious way to keep moving forward more effectively towards the ultimate goal. This is very much like to test mistakes to remind a student of the parts where he understands the concepts wrongly. After the correction is shown, the less likely the error will be committed again. The analogy can once more be related to a calamity, which probably serves the purpose of reminding people not to exhaust nature. What can possibly account for calamities is divine intervention. One does not need to fear calamities but to appreciate it. The irony is that Providence has been good enough in giving humanity these calamities. Our job is to receive them with open mind.

It will only be rational to appreciate the picture of failure after the whole picture is seen. The contrast of the picture may not be pleasing to one's eyes, but then again with an open mind, this very imperfection may lead your eyes to look at the part where you will find the best part.

The best part is, when you find your dream, you will appreciate it even more.

Done this for diagnostic writing in Comm II this semester (1st year - 2nd sem.).

I'm not sure whether I got the category right or not.
© 2010 - 2024 mingresque
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tashyrei's avatar
Every time nakakakita ako ng term na "quantify" or other similar words, pumapasok sa utak ko Math and my brain ceases to read the words following it. :| :))