My Lego Life

This was published last Wednesday. Editor Pam Pastor asked if I wanted to do an article about dreams (wishes and ambitions), so I jumped at the chance. Thank you and belated Happy Birthday, Pam!

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My Lego life

By Oliver M. Pulumbarit
2BU Contributor

Back in first grade, I was into playing with Lego sets. Assembling houses and vehicles, at least those mini-versions, appealed to me, partly because the interlocking parts allowed the freedom to start over and change how they looked. I also wanted to create my own town.

Adults around me, including a visiting teacher (who went to our house to sell an encyclopedia set) assumed, and perhaps hoped, that I’d be an architect one day. And for some time, that’s what I wanted to be, because it looked as if I can actually be good at that.

But in a hospital bed over a year later, after the doctors took out my appendix, all I could think of were colorful comic book covers, displayed side by side in some Greenhills shop I discovered days earlier. Seeing that stunning wall felt like being bombarded with an army of superheroes I knew, and wanted to know over and over.

After my hospital stay, I’d draw countless fight scenes between the champions of good and evil at the back pages of my notebooks, and I’d nag my Mom to buy me more of those adventure titles unceasingly.

A few months back, I discovered an old school journal, where I listed a number of contests that I joined and won in. Yes, after finishing 16 years of schooling, I forgot about how I was the overachieving nerd from time to time. I won in a bunch of slogan-making and poster-making tilts, so I knew even then that words and imagery can be tools at my disposal; I just practiced because I wanted to win more contests back then. I also wanted to make and tell my own epic stories, starring my own superheroes, one day. I was the quiet kid with the sketch pad and pencils.

But by my third year in high school, I wanted to be a radio deejay. I was discovering music, and loved playing vinyl records on our old turntable. It was a time when I was also getting confident with my voice, so I imagined that I can probably do that as a job eventually.

And like some kids in their teens, I wanted to be part of some shared experience. I didn’t know how to play instruments, so that felt close enough. Still, I knew that drawing, designing and ruling the lives of characters in my head was what I wanted to do someday. While I ditched the idea of pursuing a career in introducing, choosing and seamlessly playing songs, I became a more serious music lover.

When you’re young, you feel like you can do anything and everything. I definitely felt that way; I still do, but now, that thought is tempered with knowledge, experience and some foresight.

Growing up teaches you your strengths, especially when you acknowledge and understand your limitations. The thing is, even when you knew and believed that you’d pursue a certain path early on, plans change and self-discoveries happen.

Your job options, love life, and ambitions may merge and shift at certain pivotal points in your life. Your new dreams get lumped with the older ones, and they don’t become a reality overnight.

The world doesn’t end when you fail. Rejection letters, broken hearts, unfulfilled wishes don’t mean that you won’t ever be good at it, or won’t get what you want. I certainly had my share of disappointments, so occasionally I became my own Dr. Phil because I had to survive and get past them.

I used to envy people, those lucky enough to enjoy lucrative careers, and also the free-spirited and worry-free ones. But eventually, I realized my own unique gifts, and I learned how to appreciate them. In the past few years, I’ve undergone phases and transformations, but I’m still me at my core. And that’s always important.

We’re all here sharing space and converging, and we all have our little defeats and victories. We’re all fighting fate, and making ourselves comfortable in our precious little bubbles. But as individuals, we choose our own battles, we discover what we really want to do and say

There comes a point when you look back at your life and ask yourself, “What have I accomplished so far, and am I happy?”

I’ve years of exposure to pop culture, and that’s inspired me to create and appreciate. Unexpected opportunities pop up, but they, along with personal upheavals, can be turned into something visual or tangible, something that other people can relate to. I happily get derailed from some goals sometimes. But I get to relish all these things, especially when I step back and look at these experiences from a distance.

I live with words and imagery. My day job is all about perception. I didn’t expect to be a freelance copywriter, or a reviewer and reporter, for that matter. I devote as much as I can to these jobs, regardless. Almost three years ago, I also released my self-published comic book, which isn’t about superheroes. It’s strange but wonderful to get letters from readers that connect and appreciate it on levels I never expected.

I can also say that I’m happy that I’m living my life as me, without pretensions. Like anyone, I feel humbled, grounded and unsure where my path takes me next. But I keep doing what I do, of course. As a writer-artist, I think in terms of words and pictures (so pardon me if I stare blankly at you, sometimes). But even when I process all these things that I need and want to do, my life is an unending comic book serial. It’s one whose outcome I can’t exactly predict, but the journey, these chapters of my life, are just as important as the destination.

Hmm. Come to think of it, I can compare my life to playing with Lego bricks, too.