Music, like life's winding path, is a journey where notes and rhythms mirror our experiences—both sweet and sour. It's a symphony that resonates with the stories of our existence. Back in 2006, I hit the pause button on the radio, silencing my own voice. It was an echo of years invested in singing, dating back to the 1980s. I recall "Memory" from Cats, voiced by Barbra Streisand—my anthem, endlessly revisited.
The spark was lit by my mother, her voice practicing for a TV station's yuletide celebration. Curiosity led me to those lyrics, a cassette tape, and my solitary serenade. It unfolded into class performances, urged by a teacher's gentle push, and the exhilarating rounds of song-sharing throughout the school. Sir Paragas and Ma'am Mariano at Tetuan Central School, wielding stern pointers, molded me both in music and character.
High school unveiled an all-consuming love for melodies. Baon money turned into cassette funds, fueled by an unquenchable desire to sing along with my idols. Those tapes bore my picture, a pledge to my future album. And the hills, oh, those hills—a playground for my voice to echo, "the hills are alive with the sound of music."
Post-graduation, silence cloaked my tunes. Singing retreated from spotlight, channeled into solitary moments. The early spark of public performances dimmed. I chose quietude, immersing in studies.
Thirteen years later, life abroad introduced me to a Belgian friend, a doctor and a pianist. Music thrived anew. We played, practiced, and sang together, until her tragic departure in a car crash. Her absence strangled my connection with music, morphing it into an adversary. 2006 marked the year my musical promises crumbled.
Mountaineering and marathons eclipsed my passions, but melody clung. Vocalizations mingled with leaves' rustle, crickets' chirps, birds' songs—solos amidst Bukid Shabandar's wilderness.
Unbeknownst to me, music never let go. April 20, 2021, saw me jamming and recording, not for applause, but to fill my solitude with positivity. Facebook and YouTube posts extended this positivity, weaving a connection beyond likes and shares.
Amidst fifteen uploaded tracks, one shines—a reminder to persist despite odds. Gratitude for a talent scout's recognition warms my heart. Streaming to global listeners beckons, a testament to resilience.
May 3, 2021, marked a revelation—music is an odyssey. In abandonment or rejection, it remains, a steadfast companion offering solace, echoing the timeless wisdom, "with a smile" (Eraserheads).
