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This is the blog of Ian Rosales Casocot. Filipino writer. Sometime academic. Former backpacker. Twink bait. Hamster lover.

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Friday, March 13, 2026

entry arrow11:58 PM | Winging It

At one of my lowest depths in the days of the pandemic, when I was struggling mentally to just live through each day, I was tasked to teach a writing workshop for [bleep]. This was before I was diagnosed, by the way, and was properly medicated. [Or was this after I was diagnosed, but quit medication for more than a year because I thought I didn’t “really” need it? Who knows.]

But I accepted the challenge of a workshop, because the organizer is a very good friend, and I believed in the project. And the project paid. The thing was, the date of the event did not even sink into my consciousness, nor the brief. I forgot all about it. Eve of the first day, I was reminded by my friend that the whole thing was starting the next morning. Fine, I said. I can wing it. That next day, I realized it was to be a writing class with regional languages in mind. Fine, I can wing it, I thought. I've taught a workshop on writing in Binisaya before, anyway. Then when I was finally facing the participants, I realized that they came from all over the Philippines, and Bisaya would not be the primary language of most of them.

Dear God, I don’t know how I got through those three days just winging it — but I actually did supremely well, and their final activity, which involved a performance of some sort, was actually a highlight of the closing program. We even made a zine of their outputs! But I will never recommend doing the same thing to anyone. I was just lucky I had stock knowledge, and a well-spring of bravado and guts.

Please seek help if you feel like you’re flailing. I finally did a few years ago, and my life has been better because of it. [Although I still mostly wing it with life.]

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