The other day, I wanted to paint. Yes. I wanted to paint. I wanted to grab a brush and splay a blank space with colors. Bright colors. Dull colors. Reds and yellows and blues and greens and oranges. Just plain playing with color, and them movements my brush's movements would evoke.

I used to be big on art. I was one of those kids who, for my entire life, just wanted to draw, color, watercolor, finger paint, pastel, clay mold my way through life. I openly told my parents I wanted to be a doctor, and I had quite an aptitude for science, mathematics and literary subjects.

But in truth, people could see that I never really read books for their text. I opened only the tomes with illustrations that interested me. I observed how they made me imagine the event taking place. I flipped, page after page, and marvelled at them.

Two things shook my consciousness quite remarkably as a child. One was cartoons.

Cartoons scared me at first. I was shocked at how a picture could move. I remember watching my first Mickey Mouse feature, and sat there open-jawed. I remember grabbing a crayon, drawing a dog on a piece of paper, and I waited. It didn't move. I looked at the TV some more, and there the black rat was, dancing, prancing his way.

I decided I wanted to find out how they made them move. I just had to. Otherwise, my work may never be as good.

The second strange event to me, and in a detrimental way, was my early introduction to video games.

I think I was three when Ninang Clar showed me Pac-Man. By then, I was used to the idea of moving pictures, and i didn't understand what Pac-Man was all about. I just liked being with Ninang Clar when she was playing it. And I had fun, for the most part.

But when I was introduced to Super Mario... Christ. I was stunned. Not only did the picures move, but I could control them now! I loved it. It was just so much fun.

Unfortunately, I think the two events in somewhat quick succession had delivered critical hits to my creative psyche. I looked back at my old sketchpads, and I discover that I had drawn nothing significant, save for replications of scenes I had produced when playing Contra, Mario or some other game. I watched cartoons a lot, but I could never imagine the still image of anything. I only knew how I wanted them to move. I could never draw them when they were not moving.

Maybe it was because, in city life like I've always lived, everything must move. Everything is in constant flux. The only things stationary are cars stuck in traffic. And even then, there's motion.

I don't know. I've forever had artistic ambitions. Writing is one way I can re-live them. Directing theater is another. And they work. I can implement the motions I like, because those media are very receptive of moving things. I could imagine how, say, an actor should speak, deliver lines, even dance, and I can instruct them, and they'd do it. Or I could write an essay or a short piece of fiction, and I can make characters behave any way I want.

But still, I still crave to grow capturing time standing still. I hunger for it.