So much has
happened these past few years alone that I don’t even know how to begin
rehashing all of my experiences (traumatic, life-changing, revelatory, and
otherwise). With so many
ways for me to chronicle my journey, it’s no surprise that the sight of a blank
screen and a blinking cursor induces palpitations. I could tell my story chronologically, by severity
of emotional impact, or even compartmentalize by different areas of my life,
but I think the best and most logical way for me to start would be for me to
divulge my name.
My name is
Camille. I’m an avid list-maker. I collect life lessons, with the hope of becoming a
better person. I’m 27
years-old and none-the-wiser by nature of age alone. At this point in my life, I can honestly say I
never imagined I’d ever be at this point in my life. I mean that in both the best and worst way
possible. I’m neither
pessimist nor optimist, just human. I’m leery of labels. I believe in and hope for the love in humanity to
triumph over everything else.
I’m the eldest
of 3 children, and the only girl. I was born in the Philippines to young
parents, whose overwhelming desire to provide a good future for their children
led them to uproot their lives and start anew in the land of promise that is
America. I was raised in
NY from the age of 5, and I still reside in NY today. Edward Norton’s character in the movie Keeping the
Faith put it best
when he said “True New Yorkers know that people living anywhere else must be,
in some sense, kidding.”
I love
traveling, writing, reading, going on adventures, learning new things, and
sharing. I’m a nurse by
day, and a full-time daughter/sister/confidant. I indulge in good food and good company.
I am the
furthest thing from perfect, but in the words of Natasha Bedingfield, “the rest
is still unwritten.”
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