Making sense of myself

Have you ever had one of those days, or moments when you realised you'd said something that's not entirely true and wrong, and you need to backtrack on your words, but just don't know how?
Well, this is one of those times.
Now, to think of it again, I kinda change my mind...Sometimes, I think my mind sucks, because it just never could seem to make its mind up on some things. Sometimes, I felt like I don't even know who I am. And this sucks, coz I'm already almost two decades into my lifetime, and I still don't know who I am? I don't need you to tell me I'm screwed.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, I don't know if I'm morbid. If I'm really as dark as I think I am. Some thoughts that I have do terrify me at times, but I'm not always consumed completely by this darkness. There were times, and might be in the future, when I am truly happy. When I'm entirely detached from my dark side, and just felt...complete happiness. And those dark thoughts are just vague and distant objects that I couldn't even associate myself with them coz I'm just too caught up with the dream-like quality of pure joy. If that even make sense.
The reason that I wrote this is because, I wonder if we humans are really supposed to be dark, housed by our own terrifying demons that we've to battle to the end of our lives, or just born to be pure, innocent creatures that are only then created to become who we are to be? I can never make up my mind about that. I'm afraid of the latter being true because I'm afraid of who I'm going to be is entirely up to me, and I don't know if I can handle that kind of power. With great power comes great temptation. My own quote. I'm afraid of the former because of the endlessness. When is it ever going to end?
I'm afraid of the unknown. I'm tired of the uncertainty.
And I've a faint suspiscion that we humans, all are. That's probably why we are afraid of change. Because of the unknown.
Sometimes I wonder why I'm drawn to happy sweet stories. Maybe I need something positive to hold myself together? And I wonder why I'm drawn to morbid and twisted tales. Maybe because they remind me of myself, and make me felt less alone and terrifying? Maybe I like a bit of both because I need some positivity for strength and also reality to keep me prepared and grounded. Maybe I need both because I need to keep pushing on, but assured that it's still okay to fail sometimes. But still never ever lose sight of who I am in this final battle of good versus evil?
The thing is, I don't know. I'm still making sense of it all.

I am a hypocrite.

Yes, I'm a hypocrite.
Stumbled across a blog today, quite unexpectedly, and found a little something more than I bargained for. Dark Sanctuary.
The more I read her posts, the more I see myself in reflection. So why? Why am I hypocrite?
Because my writing is so vastly different from hers. Of course, I do not expect to be like her. I do have the wits (or experience, more like it) to know yet that no two people can be the same.
Yet...her words, her stories:
"There would be times when I am too bruised to interact with people. Every word uttered is like a blow to my soul, every breath leaves blisters on my skin. I want them to shut up and go away but all I can do is smile painfully and nod. I prayed so hard for them to leave me alone that I must have trembled at some point. Or screamed. Or clawed my face. Or I could have just continued smiling and nodding."

                          - Sheryl-

"...But it's better that you can't see the darkness. Because then you wouldn't fathom the atrocity of my deepest thoughts. You wouldn't know that when I say I hate the world, I meant I would burn them all, all the occupants on earth - you and him and them and me. You wouldn't know that I dream of monsters, tearing and mutilating people with their fangs and their claws, only to realize that I am the monsters. All of them. Like zombie clones of me.You don't believe me, do you? That's alright. I terrify myself too."

-Sheryl-

...is completely me. It's like I'm talking through her. Like the song, "Strumming my pain with his fingers, singing my life with his words, killing me softly wth his song...". Sheryl is writing about my life with her words, and it is killing me. It's like, having found someone who's so like you, you reckon, after all these years that it's impossible to have someone live your life. It's unfathomable.

I always thought that when I finally found someone who is so essentially like me, I would leapt with joy. Soared with happiness. That I would never feel that pitiful loneliness again.

I guess I shocked myself when I had felt jealousy too. You see, all this while, I'd thought there's not a single possibility of there being a someone like me. Or even a soul who could even remotely understand how I felt. Heck, not even my family understand me that well. And they're supposed to be theonly one who could ever had a chance of understanding me. But then sprung out this person, this girl who just wrote it all. Say what I wanted to say for all my life but never did say. Here's a girl who's not afraid to own it, and who's just so like me in some uncanny way, that I'm no longer special. And she's better than me, and more special than me, because she said it all. She is being her true self. And I'm not. Never have.

Because I was presumptious to think that no one will understand, so refrain from ever forming the mere thought of even explaining myself. Because I'm vain to want to keep those secrets to myself, in a very sick and pathetic attempt to paint myself a mysterious and dark aura. Because I'm so self-indulgent and selfish to want to share. Because I'm a coward to share my fears. Because I'm a hypocrite, trying so hard to fit in, to pretend that I'm not a freak, enough that I betray myself. But, most of all, because I myself never ever truly understand me. At times, I can be brooding and dark, but sometimes I'm just sad or happy (can't even make up my mind on that one) and confused.

I cannot make up my mind about myself. It could have been loads easier if I could either be Dr Jekyll only, or Mr Hyde only, but I can't. So who am I? Just like Dr. Jekyll, I thrived on my saint, yet also feed on my demons! Oh shoot it, now not only am I a hypocrite, a coward, and a vain, self-indulgent, selfish bitch, I'm contradictory too.

Sheryl and I am no two same person. In fact, we are vastly different. She love her literature; she love her Armand. She's proper, dark, brutal and honest. I? I couldn't even be bothered with Pride and Prejudice because young-uns like me couldn't understand a word they're saying, and I've enough pride to stay away from it altogether just because I don't like any reminding that I'm not good enough. I devour cheap flicks ocassionally because it's slightly entertaining to watch them screw each other up, but mostly because they help take my mind off the fact that I'm pretty screwed up myself (yea, no need to say, I'm pretty pathetic); read way too much action, adventure, and inspector-solving crimes because there're lots of good ones out there (unfortunately, my opinion's not to be trusted) or even if you're so unlucky to stumble across a really bad one, there's always the action and gory details to distract you, or you can just laugh at the writer's painful mistakes all the way through (sorry for being mean). And of course because I can always, almost understand them.

The point is, we are totally different individuals. Even reading through her words, had me trembling with desire and longing so strong for her dark and oh-so-alluring talent. I'm literally salivating. Like that Big Bad Wolf in her story, Red Riding Hood.

I want it, I want it so badly, that it hurts. But I am not her. And I will never be, just as I'd learnt so many times striving to be someone who I'm not. Because I'm a hypocrite.

And so...I'm a hypocrite. Now...who still wants to be my friend?

Cyber bullying

Since I remembered, about people, about myself or just about anything in my life really, cyber bullying had and always will be a big thing in today's world.
And it's blown to the top at this moment (at least to me), with the recent news of Charlotte Dawson being sent to the hospital, after consistent attacks by cyber bullies. I've been very fortunate to have avoid these kinds of incidents so far, with really loving and supportive followers, and really want to thank them here today in appreciation.
Eventhough having escape the gruesome nightmares of cyber bullying, however I did have my fair share of bullying during my school years. However, I was again very fortunate to escape the gory details of physical abuse, but unfortunately the mental abuse isn't exactly a bed of roses either, and let's just say I'll leave the uncomfortable details for another time.
Long story short, I was very much aggravated by those incidents to the point that I had actually detest the quote, " Sticks and stones may hurt me, but words cannot."
Truth to be told, it isn't the poor guy's fault that he created a wrong quote, which wounded up me being abused (and of course it never happened that way; just my human psychology-likes to blame people).
It took me years before I  actually truly register what he was trying to convey through his infamous quote (let's face it, not many people is actually fond of that quote...according to my survey).
This world is cruel. There's always gonna be people who's out there going to break you every time, no matter what. In the end, it just depends on you to stand strong, and not get overwhelmed. In my case, yea, there's been lots of jeering and booing, but in the end, it's me that I listen too, and that 'me' happens to just listen to what everyone has to say. I made the decision to break myself. Taking Charlotte's case as an example, despite there has been harsh words asking her to (quoting) 'hang herself', it is her who in the end decides to (quoting again) 'hang herself' (and pardon the pun).
Allow me to provide some advice, after years of life experience (which could actually be heeded if I've not been so screwed up myself, haha):
1. There's a fine line between constructive criticism and destructive criticism. Or to put it in cyber terms, know how to differentiate between trolling and hate mails. Or brutal with malicious. These people don't know you. They are not your family. They have not been there, listening to your whining and keeping up with your demands 24/7, like your family do. So how can they criticise you when they don't know you? How can they be right when they don't even understand?
...which brings us to...
2. Be positive. You definitely know yourself better than they do right? So trust yourself. Listen to yourself. I know it's hard when there's so much negativity around you (trust me, no one knows better than I do; I've been there, done that), but you've to keep trying. Because it's your life that you're living. It's about you. If you don't even believe in yourself, who will? And I've done it lots of time to know that, in the end, it is me myself who have to pick myself up.
...and this brings us to...
3. Being around positive people. It's hard doing it alone. So? Do it with others, who support you the way you are. And the best place to start is with family. They are the ones who will be there, no matter what. And your best mates who will be there for you to catch you whenever you fall. And true, at times they may say something you don't like to hear, but hey, that's constructive criticism. And if you're too fragile to handle that just yet, tell them. Seriously, silence is the biggest killer of depressed people. So say something.
And finally, you can always come here. To this blog. Coz I'll love you just the way you are. :)

Never give up?

Forgive me for not writing a post for so long. Sometimes we forget how much our articles can inspire people. Okay, perhaps I'm being a little bit much too vain here, but hey! You never know.
I'm just a little bit much too reflective at this moment, as (guess what I've been doing?!) I've been procastinating by reading articles and blog posts.
I stumbled upon a friend's articles. Not sure if I could call him a friend, but hey, I've met him face-to-facein a few participative events before, and that should count for a friendship? Yes, no? (Honestly, I am not scrambling to get acquainted right here just because I found out he's quite an achieved entrepreneur now....:P)
He had wrote some powerful articles which got me thinking. And blogging.
Eventhough, both our reasons for writing articles are entirely different, but our message is the same: We should keep going. We should keep doing what we love no matter what. We should not give up.
It is funny how easily and often I can keep forgetting why I started blogging in the first place.
Guess that's what made the difference between us.
He's gone on to become an entrepreneurwho had founded a new business venture slowly gaining popularity, and where am I now? Still stuck in my home, watching TV and growing fat.
And despite the fact that I might not inspired anyone, but I hope I inspired myself at least today.
So let's start writing / reaching for our dreams, peeps! Adios!

Song Downloads

In response to Kathy's request, I decided to write a little something that I'd done recently.
So, besides doing the boring stuff of studying, I also love to procastinate by going onto Youtube and downloading songs and short videos from there.
It was actually through a blogger that I'd discovered this singer, Sam Tsui. (Sorry that I don't have a link, but I'll give you the blog address that brought me there: omgblog.com
He's not a spectacular singer, but I'd say he's definitely another fresh voice and talent to add to the range of singing talents that we've today in the entertainment industry. And, honestly, there's a few songs that are arranged brilliantly. Plus, he's not too bad a singer as well. In fact, I'd say he's very good, though I'd heard better ones, of course.
But like I said, he's a new talent that'll bring fresh breath, and so it's worth checking him out.
Oh, and remember to check out his duet with Christina Grimmie-Just A Dream, coz it's really GOOD!
Leave a comment as to whether you enjoy it. And last, enjoy! ;)

Reflection

I guess it's pretty obvious these past few days I've been feeling a bit lazy (well, more than a bit lazy...and definitely more than a few days, but a girl can be in denial, right? XD).
It's just that...it's so quiet. And sometimes, I don't even know what to write anymore.
Like any bloggers (or any aspiring bloggers) would do, I often checked on my followers. And I never realised that I don't really know more than half of the followers there. And I am really grateful. Truly.
I don't know how many of them actually really 'follow' my posts, but I don't care. I know a lot of you are busy, and just don't have the time to spare. And when you  do read, you want to read something that's worth your time.
But I do wish that when you do read mine, you could write a little something in comment.
Because I want to know about you. (For this matter, special thanks to Kathy; you've done an awesome job! Love you.)
I just admire and envy those successful bloggers like Flourishing In Progress and Writing Out Loud and etc. so much!!! Their blogs are just so often full of life.
So today, whoever's reading this, I want you guys to tell me, what is it that you guys want to read about? Talk about? Indulge in?
And remember, this isn't just about me, it's about you too.
On a final note, thank you guys for all your support.

WRiTER Club

For more details, go to: http://dlcruisingaltitude.blogspot.com.au/p/write-club-2012.html?showComment=1343486533200

Join WRiTER Club! For an unforgettable experience! Looking forward to see you there! :D

Hope...?

Hope is such a magical thing.
I've spent almost two decades of my life, feeling unwanted. Worthless. A nobody.
Yet...I kept believing that one day...one day this would change. It would be better. Hope.
My faith wasn't ever there strong though. At times, I doubt myself, and even more so as the years progressed.
But last night, I felt so special. I felt wanted. I felt...that for once in my life, I was important to someone. That I bring meaning to someone's life.
And it felt good.
Looking back, there was one point in my life that I almost stop believing.
Almost everyday, I thought of killing myself because there's just nothing to live for anymore. There's nothing to believe in.
But there is.
And that is why I never did it.
Because, no matter how bleak it seemed, there's always this tiny piece of hope that I clung on and would never let go.
Because there's always this short, tiny moments of happiness that made it all worthwhile.
And just because it happened before doesn't mean it'll never happen again.
So keep faith. Keep believing. Keep hoping.

Uncertainty

One thing about life is the uncertainty.
And it's endless. The uncertainty, I mean. Just when you think that something's finally done, you can get over with it, and <BAM!> another thing quickly comes up, or that the thing you think is done is an unfinished business yet.
And that pretty much sums up my life.
Things just keep moving around me. Fast. I guess it could be a good thing, but I'm just plain exhausted. Most of the time, I just felt like quitting.
Unfortunately, you can't quit in life. Either that, or you're gonna have to suffer. Like in hell for an eternity. Ok, maybe I'm being too sarcastic and using metaphors? Which is weird. But, I'm just too stressed and flustered to care.
In a way, this world is like a hell. So maybe I'm not too far off the mark somehow.
Sometimes, I wonder all the stuff I'm doing is for myself. I mean, sure, I want to be successful. Who wouldn't be? But am I enjoying what I'm doing? I can't say that for sure. There's this one quote that forever kept stuck onto my mind after I read it. Or especially so at this stage of my life.
"You can't be successful if you're not happy."
I certainly can't say I'm happy with what I'm doing now, but then doing what you're happy with doesn't guarantee success either.
I definitely can't deny that the stuff I'm doing right now, however reluctant and unhappy I am doing them, are helping me grow up. But I'm not happy either. It just keeps feeling like I'm forcing myself to do it, and it's just not my best. And the worst part is, it just make it all the much harder.
I loved putting some sort of inspirational advice at the end of the post, because it gives everyone hope, but most importantly, it gives me hope.
But I really can't do it for this post, when everything's just so uncertain.
Maybe you guys can give me the hope instead...

Brave

So Disney Pixar is releasing the new animation 'Brave'.

These couple of months has been extremely hectic for me. It was overwhelming. New experiences. New life. And everything just happened so fast.

It was also a year that I first heard 'Angel'. (Yea, I know...I've been way out of today's modern world.)

"Spend all your time waiting            For a break that would make it okay.

            For that second chance,

            There's always some reason

            To feel not good enough,

            And it's hard, at the end of the day."

It was hard. I felt overwhelmed. Bewildered. I wished time would stop. For a moment. And I still do now.

And when the ad for the animation came onto the television, offering free passes to Hollywood for the premiere, to those who wrote the most impressive 100 word essay of the meaning of brave.

And it got me thinking.

Perhaps I just have to be brave enough to handle the pressure. Brave enough to be independent. Brave enough to say I'm good enough. That brave isn't about having no fear, but having the fear and overcoming it.

And brave enough to confess in my blog. ;D

A curse or a blessing?

Remember when I told you that I would write about why I sometimes felt writing is a curse for me? Well, here it is now. A little treat (perhaps?) after my dormancy, before going back again to another round of hibernation. ;P
It's strange how I can make my mind about some things and then change my mind about them few days later. Sometimes I wonder if everyone's like me, or am I the odd one out? No matter what, I still feel lonely. An outcast.
At school, I used to learn about everything. According to you-know-who, they're supposed to harness your skills, discover your talent, bla, bla, bla. Whatever. School's always boring to me.
Except my first year when I thought school was supposed to be like a playground, where you can meet new friends. Especially when you're a country girl like me, from a small town where it's hard to find lots of friends your age in your home playground. Of course, I'm excited.
After the reality hit in, and my innocence shattered, gone...well, you know. I guess I don't hate school, but...school's not exactly my best friend either.
There's a high possibility that my childhood experience in school was unlike anyone else's, but please allow me to keep up the facade that it's the same. I feel like a freak already.
With no friends and boring books, the loneliness was unbearable. (Not that I'm not lonely now.) So I turned to stories. books. The really interesting kind.
They were amazing. Inspiring. Motivating. For once, i don't feel like a loser, but a princess. It was fantastic. Kind of like a drug. Except better. And more noble. As I grew older, the books began to tell me a little bit more about the world, inviting more maturity and confidence. They began to build up who I am today.
I guess it fascinates me. Astounded me. That those people could spun out those amazing stories in the books that could create who I am today. And I started to write too. I wanted to be like them too.
What sets me apart from so many aspiring writers is that I never thought myself as a writer. I did once fancied the idea, but it never hit me with such a life-changing and conviction that I would be a writer. I love to write...but I'm supposed to be a doctor first.
Which was hilarious, considering the fact that I'm such a non-science person. Science is fascinating enough for me I guess, yet I fell asleep in the laboratory where I'm supposed to obtain hydrogen gas from adding zinc pieces to hydrochloric acid.
Then I realised I don't want to be a doctor after all. I just fancied the idea of occasionally butchering people, stylishly spotted with the ste-, never mind, and enjoying romances from some hotties like Patrick Dempsey in Grey Anatomy. Curse all those misguiding tv dramas.
So I opted for a Commerce degree in uni instead. And it's only these few months, while slogging with all those assignments, with loads of academic readings filled with business jargon that I realised that writing is truly my forte. Yet...
*sigh* Let's just say I barely scraped through an essay, and suddenly I wasn't so sure after all. I AM sure that I want to write as ever, just that I don't know if I would survive it. And because of my family, I MUST survive. So perhaps writing is not such an ideal career after all.
Especially when I'm an Asian from Southeast Asia. English is my second language. I speak dialect at home. But I've been reading in English since I could remember.
Sure it feels exciting that I can speak two dialects, and three languages, but I'm jack of all trades, master of none. I truly felt like an outcast. I don't belong.
I couldn't hope to write like the likes of Americans or British, yet I couldn't write like my fellow Asians because of my upbringing. I'm stuck. In between. Like a mutant in X-men, except worse. Because I don't have anyone like me who can understand.
So I wonder, is my aspiration to be a writer...a curse or a blessing?

Go Teen Writer Contest: This is not what I expected.

Sorry for my dormancy. But, managed to squeeze some time to enter a writing contest. Again. Here's my entry:

Shit.

This is not what I expected.

I stared into the pair of glazed emerald eyes gazing at me, willing it to disappear.

Busted.

My Adam’s apple lodged painfully in my throat, and I struggled to breathe as fear clawed at my lungs.

She was gracefully splayed across the carpet, her tresses elegantly fanned out above her head, and her doe-eyes glancing deep into my eyes. It failed to bother me that she caught me breaking into her house, and stealing.

What bothered me was that she was lying in a pool of blood. She was dead. Very dead. 

Lesson learnt. Never steal. Too late though.

***

Feel free to criticise and comment. Hope you enjoy it. Cheers!

After uni...there's writing...?

It felt weird. Surreal. To return to blogging after so many days of...what exactly? I felt sorely tempted to say that I was procastinating, but no. Shocked?
To tell you the truth, uni life was so totally not what I expected it to be. It had me overwhelmed, confused, and disorientated. I was worried. I was scared. And honestly, I would have love it very much to indulge myself into blogging, and try to forget myself in writing. To find some comfort, some assurance from good, old writing. I may not be good, terrific in it, but at least I know what I'm doing? There's no restriction, no rules. Just a shoulder for you to lean on, a hand for support. No commitments, no string attached. Just do whatever you want to do, what you're supposed to do(which is fairly easy to figure out; basically, you just blog in a blog. Pardon the pun.)...go with the flow(which I'm very good at). Your freedom, your space.
Which brings me back to my uni life. I reckon probably everyone would agree that uni life's just like blogging?
But, to me, no. Yes, uni life's about freedom too, and with that comes responsibility(Ring a bell? That's Spiderman for you.), of which also applies to blogging. Mum had established some rules for me regarding blogging: I made sure that I don't swear, curse, or write any obscene words; I don't get involve in political issues; I kept it as private as I could(unfortunately, I couldn't NOT include personal emotions into my writing...writing about my feelings was one of the reasons I set up the blog in the first place because I don't know how to vent out my feelings in other ways...and writing was the only thing that I know how to do, and am comfortable in doing...besides, writing always make me feel good.); I was always, always very careful of what I write.
But...those weren't pressing, life-threatening responsibilities. I can handle those. I have done it in all my life...being a good girl. Let's just say it wasn't hard, if not tempting.
But, uni is different. It is a big deal to me. I couldn't afford a mistake, certainly not like blogging, when you can pause a long while and check through your posts before you hit the publish button. At times, in life itself, the whole situation is often blurred; you could never really understand what's happening, could never see the clear picture, and so how long should you pause? And yes, it's possible to miss the boat of opportunity when you're too cautious, unlike blogging, when you just don't post for a very long time, contemplating on what to write, and all you lose is a few (precious) pageviews. I can live with that.
And I've missed the boat too many times.
When I first stepped into the school door, I was very enthusiastic and excited about the whole prospect of education, life, and my possible future. While I can pushed the responsibility to those who had hurt me in the process, and made me lose my confidence and faith in life, I could not NOT blame myself for letting myself NOT live life to the fullest too. For allowing myself to lose the opportunities.
By indulging myself into my own world, closing myself to the world, living in my own fantasy, I've lost touch with reality and world, and when I finally resurfaced, suddenly I realized I didn't belong in the world anymore. I just couldn't fit in.
It was so frightening. And depressing. I didn't know what to do.
And the most hardest part is, I have a family. I couldn't let them down. And, most importaatly, I've a sister who count on me. If I fail, I could very ruined her future, her life. It was suffocating.
It took me so long to write this because I was afraid to share about my fears. I was scared of how others would think of me, and especially my mom and sister, who would occassionally check my blog, to cause them worry, anxiety, and sadness. Most of all, I was afraid that I wouldn't have the strength to go on. I fear that my writing it would force me to face with the reality finally, and I would break down because I was not mentally strong enough.
It took a phone call to wake me up, and through writing, I found the strength and conviction instead to slog on.
It dawned on me that I was not only doing this for my family, and that I should stop worrying about failure; I was doing it for myself too, and that took the pressure off. I want myself to suceed...that shouldn't be too hard, right? Suddenly, I found my courage and motivation.
I'm still worried. But, I feel so much better.
Suddenly, I realized: I might have lost touch with the world, but I'm still in touch with reality as opposed to what I was thinking initially. I know what I want.
For a moment, I'd thought that writing was a curse for me(I will tell you why in another post, another day), but it wasn't. It was my support, my hope; a place for me to seek solace and understanding, coming to terms with myself.
And it was powerful and wonderful.
Thank you God for this. Thank you writing and books. Thank you mom for this. Thank you, my sis, for this. Thank you, my family, for this. And thanks to the phone call.
It is good to know that you aren't really standing alone in a battle. Thanks to my companion...writing.
I LOVE you. To bits.
You are who I am. My identity.

Writing Contest: The Type Of Person Who...

Dana was the type of girl who needed no one. Or so she thought. Until he came.

He was perfect. Godlike. He made her feel whole. Important. Perfect. She never knew love could be such a wonderful thing.

But…it was an illusion. A mistake. She cursed herself. Men could not be trusted. Had she not learned her lesson from her father?

Too late. As she stood forlornly, her knuckles white from gripping the bars, facing the many faces that glared at her, with contempt and judgment, she wished fervently she could turn the clock backwards.

"Dana Smith, you’re accused of murdering Jonathan Walker. Do you plead guilty?"

***

Sorry that I've been so quiet for a while...*sigh* but those academic readings in uni  are kiiling me!!! I hope I can find back my steps soon, but for now, here's a little contest entry for you to enjoy...Feel free to criticise it, that's what it's here for! ;P

Second Campaigner Challenge!!!

Marry to Kill

She was so beautiful. Her soft curls artistically piled up, decorated with white lilies. Her veil cast her face into a white hue, cascading down her elegant neck.

She smiled. Looking ahead, she stared deep into my eyes, demure but expectant. Desire burned in her eyes. A shiver of longing and bliss ran down my spine as I watched her glide down the aisle.

Finally, she is mine.

Her gloved hand reached for mine, and I held her hand, firm, and swore to myself never to let go.

***

The ceremony was over. I went to fetch the car, for my bride. No, my wife.

As I start the ignition, I heard a soft click, and suddenly, a blinding light flared up. My vision went white.

All around me was in flames. All I could think was the pain. My skin seared with agony. Vaguely, I smelled burning flash.

Slowly, darkness engulfed me, and the last thing on my mind was my wife.

***

Burn. Let him burn.

He was such a hypocrite.

Finally, I had my revenge. Sweet revenge.

Too bad I had to wear this wedding dress to watch the show.

But it’s worth it.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Here are the rules:

Do one or more of the following:

1. Write a pitch/logline for a book based on the prompts (less than 100 words)
2. Write a short story/flash fiction piece of less than 200 words based on the prompts
3. Write a poem with a twist using the prompts as inspiration (in less than 200 words)
4. Write a story/poem in five sentences, each sentence based on one of the prompts
5. Write a poem/flash fiction piece (in less than 200 words) about the water pear *without* using the words “pear”, “spoon”, or “droplet”.

For added difficulty/challenge:

• Complete at least three of the above activities and tie them all together with a common theme (feel free to either state the theme in your post or leave us to guess what it might be)
• Write in a genre that is not your own
• Ask Challenge entrants to critique your writing. After the Challenge closes, you may wish to re-post your revised piece(s), and I’ll include a Linky List at the bottom of this post for those wishing more feedback on their revisions (note: revised entries will not be judged, so please label clearly your original post and your revisions. Please do not offer critique unless someone asks for it, as per the usual blogging conventions. If you do ask for critique, make sure you ask for it clearly so people know you want it, and please be prepared to receive feedback that may not be 100% glowing. If you are a critiquer, please be tactful and courteous, and remember to provide positives as well as negatives.)

Judging criteria

Judging will be based on:

• How creatively the prompts are used (possible 5 points awarded)
• How well the entries are written (possible 5 points awarded)
• How engaging/entertaining/unique the entries are (possible 5 points awarded)
• If the entrant completes more than one of the activities in their post, how well their pieces are tied together by a common theme and how strongly their theme shines through in their writing OR If the entrant only completes one of the activities in their post, how strongly their theme shines through in their writing (possible 5 points awarded)
• Whether the judge wants to read more (possible 3 points awarded)
• Creativeness/uniqueness of the entry’s title (possible 2 points awarded)

Challenge details

Once you’ve posted your Challenge post on your blog, pop back here and link directly to it in the Linky List below. Please make sure you include the direct URL link to your post, not just the link to your blog! Otherwise we won't be able to find your entry.

I've also set up the Linky List so you can "Like" entries, so make sure you come back here and vote for the People's Choice Awards!!! Like voting will remain open for the week after the Challenge ends, so you can take your time reading some/all of the entries and voting. As the like voting is not a popularity contest, it is only intended that people taking part in the actual Challenge should vote. So please don't go out and get your family/friends/other bloggers to vote for you. If you only have time to read/vote for a few entries, consider randomly selecting entries or starting at the end rather than at the beginning, so that the people at the end have their entries read and voted on as well.

Entries in the First Campaigner Challenge will close on Friday, March 9th (at 11.59pm EDT), so make sure you get your post in the Linky List before then. As usual, while everyone is very welcome to take part in this Challenge, only Campaigners will be eligible for prizes.

Thank you so much to all the Campaigners who have volunteered to judge one or more of the Challenges. I'm amazed by your generosity—you all rock!!! In terms of judging, Mark Koopmans will be in touch about that very soon. I'd love you all to take a moment to pop over and follow Mark, to say thanks for all his hard work in co-ordinating the judging.
__________________________________________________________________________________

Special thanks to Rach, the judges, the sponsors for making this happen!!! This entry probably did not fit the requirements, and I'm expecting to be disqualified, but oh well, I posted this to have some fun. I didn't really used all the prompts, and adhere only to one rule, but I wanted this to be fun, and give readers something other to read, so think of this as an entertainment! Rather than a competing entry!

Hope you guys like this! Cheers!

p/s. please feel free to critique this piece! And enjoy it, along the way, of course! It is exactly 200 words (is that still abiding to the rule?!), and NOT written in my own genre! And "like" my entry too, if you like! Pssst...I'm entry 77...

A small consolation...

...from an email, that goes like this:

"Thank you so much for participating in the 100-word free write contest on Go Teen Writers! The next contest will begin on March 12th, so make sure you check it out.

Below is your entry and the feedback from the judge:

Fear clawed inside me, and I felt nauseous. My head was spinning, and I wanted desperately to run, but I forced myself to stay. For a delusional moment, I almost convinced myself to flee, and I caught my eyes darting around frantically, searching for escape.

But there was none. Guards stood watchful at exits. I would have been caught immediately, and killed on spot.

The group of slaves ahead of me grew thinner. Terror bit at the back of my throat, threatening to overwhelm me.

And time moved faster. I was next.

Inside, the lion roared. And everything went black.

 

I’m curious about that line of “the lion roared.” Intriguing. I think things fading to black can make for a tough story opening (since you need your characters conscious to advance the story) and I think you could make the descriptions of the character’s feelings more concise. But a very nice job starting with action and putting your character in a tough spot!

-- 

Stephanie Morrill

Author of The Reinvention of Skylar Hoyt series. "

 

I felt a faint sense of thrill rolling through my heightened senses, tasting the brief sweetness of hope.

100 Free Write Contest: Results!!!

My heart beat away wildly. It thumped hard, against my chest, unforgiving. Pain seared through my chest, jarring my ribs.
I tasted the anticipation, the longing, bursting on my tongue, like the sharp slosh from a carbonated soda. The force of it steal my breath away, almost all of it, leaving me wheezing.
Then my heart stopped beating for a moment, and it felt like someone had his hand around my heart, squeezing hard. I couldn't breathe.
And then...
And I felt...

Julie Kagawa Giveaway!

Julie Kagawa is giving away an ARC signed copy of The Immortal Rules, internationally, as long as you comment on her blog before the 15th of March. More details, please check out this link.

As usual, I've joined! (I seems to have joined a lot of things these days! lol. ;P) Happy commenting...

Before I end this post, here's a cool pic of the book!

100 word free write contest

Fear clawed inside me, and I felt nauseous. My head was spinning, and I wanted desperately to run, but I forced myself to stay. For a delusional moment, I almost convinced myself to flee, and I caught my eyes darting around frantically, searching for escape.

But there was none. Guards stood watchful at exits. I would have been caught immediately, and killed on spot.   

The group of slaves ahead of me grew thinner. Terror bit at the back of my throat, threatening to overwhelm me.

And time moved faster. I was next.

Inside, the lion roared. And everything went black.

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For more information, check out this link. However, I'll post out the rules:

Your 100 words should read like the opening of a novel. That means you have just 100 words to hook this round's judges - Christa Allan and Betsy St. Amant - into your story world. It also means you have the opportunity to get feedback from published authors on the opening of your manuscript, which is a pretty awesome.

If you have entered a Go Teen Writers free write contest before, you may NOT resubmit a previous entry.

Your entries are due on Monday, February 27th by 11:59pm Kansas City time. You may email it to me at Stephanie(at)GoTeenWriters.com. Include your name as you would want it to appear on the website, and no attachments please!
The contest is for those age 21 and under. One entry per person please.

First Campaigner Challenge!!!

Shadows crept across the wall. 

 A cold shiver ran down my spine, and I shuddered involuntarily. Unconsciously, my hands clutched my teddy tighter, and I fearfully snuggled up to him for courage, my movement painstakingly slow for fear that unseen monsters which were making these shadows sprang upon me once they sensed me through my fear founded erratic movements.

They seemed to grow larger. Like a vortex sucking the bits and pieces of darkness from the night into them.

My heartbeat fluttered ever more wildly. Suddenly, I found it very hard to breathe. I was terrified, and began to panic. My body was attacked by uncontrolled spasms, and I began to fidget under my blanket.

At this point, an orange light suddenly came on, shining brightly into my eyes. My vision went white, and my fear was so great that it began to suffocate me. I couldn’t breathe. My terror was complete.

“Charlie? Are you all right?” A pair of emerald eyes stared into mine, shone with alarm and concern.

It was Mom. My relief was immense.

Her warm hand found mine, and I was comforted. As I spiralled into deep slumber, she switched off the light, and everything faded.
________________________________________________________________________________________

For those of you who're interested to know more about this challenge, chack out this link. For future activities/challenges, check out this link. For information about the campaign, check out this link.
Please note: Unfortunately, it is only open for those who'd signed up for the campaign, but the campaign are held again later this year.

These are the rules of the challenge:

Write a short story/flash fiction story in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, including a poem. Begin the story with the words, “Shadows crept across the wall”. These five words will be included in the word count. 

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional), do one or more of these:

• end the story with the words: "everything faded." (also included in the word count)

• include the word "orange" in the story

• write in the same genre you normally write

• make your story 200 words exactly!

If you'd like my entry, feel free to head over to Rach's blog to 'like' me. I'm entry no.2! Thanks!

I'm tagged! AGAIN!

Could you believe it?! I'm tagged again just after being tagged! (Does that make sense? Never mind.) Thanks Laurie! Don't feel sorry; it make up as a homework(updating blog), and easier too(don't have to brainstorm for topics anymore, lol). So thanks(no, really)!

A short note: After this post, there's one for the tag, Vikki! I'm doing it in different post...

Ok, back to it.

1. What kind of music (if any) do you listen to while writing?
No music. My 'music' is the feverish excitement contained inside me when I write...
2. Do you rush right out to see the movies adapted from books you love, or do you avoid them?
Didn't matter. Though, Harry Potter and Eragon taught me to watch a movie before reading, while Lord of the Rings taught me to watch the movie first.
3. Pick five fictional characters you’d love to have over to your house for dinner.
It had be too intimidating. I would worry a lot...so, no?
4. Do you have any pets?
No. I try to shirk responsibility whenever able...=(
5. What foods would you pick for your last meal?
The food that I loved most. I love to keep the lovely taste lingering in my mouth after meals.
6. Name the number one person who would make you faint if he/she commented on your blog or tweeted you on Twitter. (Can be a celebrity, author, or anyone else, but it has to be a real, living person.)
There's no particular person. Even you can make me feel estatic!(I don't faint easily; I only faint when i'm sick.) I believe everyone is important no matter who they are, and everyone's equal.
7. What’s the last song you listened to?
Oops...I don't really remember...
8. If you could pick one book that all teenagers would have to read in high school, what would it be?
Will tell you later...I can't exactly pinpoint it right now...
9. Which fictional character is most like ‘real-life’ you?
William in Goodnight, Mister Tom.
10. Do you believe in love at first sight?
When I did(fall in love at first sight), I'll inform you!
11. You can only pick one book to read over and over for the rest of your life. What would it be?Oh no!!!! Don't do this...I can't do it...Pass...?

Due to time factor, I'll not be able to tag others...So, I hope you don't mind that I break the rules...sorry!

I'm tagged!

Thank you Vikki! For tagging me. Though, very unfortunately, I'm only able to do post about it now, as I've been busy lately...And I'm going to be for quite a period of time, so it's going to be tough for me for a while to keep up this blog...but never fear! I loved blogging too much to give it up!(Could you believe it?! While everyone's crazy about facebook and ipod, I'm obssessing about blog!!! And only recently too, since I just sign up for it last year...Talk about weird?!) So...you'll all have to bear with me for the time being...until I get my footing back! Hope you don't mind.

Just a short note before I continue...Thank you everyone! All of my followers!(I'm a bit rushed right now...so I couldn't type out all the names. But I will soon. When I get some time! It's not a bother! Coz you're all awesome!) Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Ok. So onward to my post(answering question).

1. What thing have you written that you’re most proud of?
Nothing. Ok.  I did write something. All in progress.
??? Wondering? Well, how can you say you're most proud of something you wrote, when you only like bits and parts of it?! Yup, I'm my own worst critic...The problem is I think most part of why I never like the stuff I write is because I'm tired of it all. Too much editing...(But how else can I perfect it?!) Aha! Beta readers/critique partners. Vikki...? No pressure.
2. What are you working on at the moment?
Nothing. Just my blog...oh wait. Not even my blog. I'm busy adjusting to uni life...and eventually my boring and busy studies. Perhaps there's time for something exciting like blogging/reading...?
3. Where would you like to see yourself in 5 years time?
Sadly, I'm a gal who never had that foresight/planning? I want to be successful. Does that say something/answer that question? Unfortunately to my parents, no.
4. You buy an old lamp, whilst cleaning it a genie appears…you know the rest lol. Your 3 wishes are?
Happy and lucky?! I think that's a lot of a job for that genie.
5. List 2 of your bad habits? Come on, we all have some.
Lazy. And very unmotivated. (That's why works are always labelled WIP!!!)
6. If you were a superhero, what special power would you have?
Teleportation. Imagine being able to travel around the world without any costs...tempting.
7. Tell us the name of one of your characters, one you really like?
Argh. I can't. There's too many. =/ And I don't do favouritism. Lest I hurt their(the characters) feelings.
8. What scares you?
Paranormal. I don't like to feel out of control.
9. Sum up your personality in 3 words?
Boringly imaginatively clumsy?! Does that make sense?!
10. Name 2 of your vices?
???
11. Do you have a pet peeve/hate? What is it?
My mom always told me, that hate is a very strong word. Never use it. So no.

Due to the time factor, I'll not be able to tag others, so I'll have to break the rules...sorry!

Forgotten Tears

I used to cry.
A lot.
"Crying is bad.
Crying is weak.
Never cry", they say.
And so, I buried
my tears
deep in my heart,
at the back of my mind.
Till I forgot,
and they forgot.
For a moment, I blindly thought,
I was happy
to have no tears.
While in truth,
it was only forgotten
buried too deep.
When finally
it bursts out
like a broken dam.
Like a heavy rain, pelting in relief,
after a long, hot, dry summer.
Deep inside,
I fervently wish
that my tears
will never again
be buried,
or worse, forgotten.
But,
finally,
truly unnecessary.

p/s. Ugh! Sorree...it's a very amateurish poem, but well! I'm in a hurry. I'm going to be pretty busy later, so this might be the last you see me...In the meantime though, I'll try my best to post as much as I can...Anyway, hope you'll enjoy this not-veryy-good poem!

It's Valentine's...

...Happy Valentine's!

As a celebration, and also a tribute to the Fourth Writers' Platform-Building Campaign, I've written a poem, also to show my gratitude to Rachael as the host, and other participating bloggers:

This year's Valentine's...

This year's Valentine's
is so special a time,
till I couldn't wait
to stake my claim
in this year's blogging campaign. 
Though I will stay
very much single
and lonely indeed.
But, in my heart, I know
I have found a home,
a place I belong,
finally
in this blogging community.
Thank you everyone
for such a superb Valentine's day!

Thank you everyone and Happy Valentine's Day! Once again, special thanks to Rachael for hosting this campaign, and to all of those bloggers participating, all of whom, had made my blogging journey an enjoyable one! THANK YOU!
  

R.I.P. Whitney Houston

"Whitney Houston found dead at 48."
The headline screamed at me on Yahoo homepage the firat thing yesterday.(Sorry, I only write about it know; I'd been listening to the radio all day, playing all her songs, in tribute.)
The feeling that hit me was alarmingly familiar.
It was how I felt when the news announced Micheal Jackson's death. (Though, MJ's death probably hit me harder; I thought some people were playing a prank. I couldn't believe my eyes when I read about the news announced officially on tv. Anyway, this post isn't about MJ, it's about Whitney Houston, so scrap that.)
It was a mixed feeling of emptiness, shock and sorrow.
Yet, it wasn't a strong, powerful sorrow; just a subtle, but resonating sadness (and emptiness) that another great legendary singer was gone. No more powerful, inspiring songs to make a difference in our lives again.
Shock, because it's seem unbelievable that she would leave like that. So abruptly. No goodbyes. No grand finale that you seem to automatically associated it with legendary singers. (Or was it just me?).
Somehow, it still felt like she's still there, as I listened to her songs. Like somehow, she's not ready to leave just yet. Perhaps the after-effects of the electronic media, that immortalized her.
But it's kinda true. She's not leaving. She has lived on, through her songs. She has immortalized, because of her songs.
It led me thinking.
It's strange somehow that these works of art(songs, stories, drawings, pictures; books, movies, arts, phootgraphs, videos, etc.) has the power of immortalizing. It seems strange that we, as the creators of these works of art, lived on through our works. Our characters, stories, resonate and live on...and so do we. We are recognized, acknowledged, appreciated, and remembered, because of them.
We have immortalized.
Perhaps even more so, through the rapid development and progress marked by the electronic medias.
I felt strangely fulfilled, when I know that someone would still read my blog, my works, long after I'm gone. Like Beethoven, Mozart, Shakespeare(he too, agreed and acknowledged the power of immortalization yield by works of art, through his Sonnet 18), and more recent ones like Roald Dahl and MJ.
I'm sure Whitney Houston must have felt the same too, up there.
Both MJ and Whitney Houston, no matter the negative news that surround them(drug abuse, child molestation), they have created history, waves of revolution, across the globe, despite different ages, genders, and races. And...we remember them. All of us.
So, fellas, let's inspire others, through ours.
Let's rock it, peeps!

Fourth Writers' Platform-Building Campaign

Hey, anyone who's reading this post.

 I've just joined the Fourth Writers' Platform-Building Campaign on Rachael's blog. I stumbled upon it through Nick's blog. (lol; I probably shouldn't blog about it like I've known them real long, but well...I'm going to be their friend sooner or later, right?)
As you had probably guess by now, this campaign is a great way to draw online connections between unpublished writers and bloggers. It serves to build a platform for those who had wished they could get better writing skills(like me!) or hope that they could published(that's right...? Oh well, I'm kinda confused; this's a really rushed post!)...I mean, you could probably meet future editors and agents there. That's a way to get published, right? Like in the future...
Okay, I've gotta be serious now. Anyway, join it. It's a great way to make new friends, and more new friends! This whole campaign is going to be flooded with writers! And bloggers, of course. You probably could get an extra follower or two(guilty as sin =S)...
You've gotta join it. But, no pressure.
Join it or not, have a nice day! =)

What's Love?

Aha! I am totally aware that Valentine's coming around, so as a celebration(unfortunately, it's a celebration from a single, and whose going to stay pretty much so for the next few years...), I thought of writing this post. Ummm...I'm aware it's probably an early one. Very.
And yup, I'm aware that the title above happens to be part of the chorus of the song by Tina Turner. Don't even think of asking me what song is that, because:
1. I've forgotten. I've a bad memory.
2. If you don't know who's Tina Turner or even what songs did she sang, then, you shouldn't be in my world, and this blog at all(sorry if I'm harsh). Hey, I'm the girl who hailes from Jurrassic. And isn't Tina Turner categorized under a very much famous singer. So you definitely should know her, whether or not you're the oldies...
Okay enough of this nonsense.
The truth: I get around to write this post because of a book I've read. Yes, again. I think you should have realized by now that everything I've written here is the result of anything that I could have get my hands on. Or more accurately, laid my eyes on.
So...I read True by Micheal Cordy.
Here's a picture of it:

This book really resonates with me. It questions the way you think of love. Suffice to say, you'll never look at love the same way again.

Whether you're a person who think you've found the one in your life, or a person who think love is fickle, once you read this book, you'll once again question your own firm standings, views or perspectives you'd had of love, that you miught have often had doubts about that you aren't conscious of, because you'd buried it too deep in order to buried your doubts.

These are the thoughts that it had invoked in me:

Why fall in love? Why not fall in love? To not be under love's spell, you can protect yourself...or is that even true? Is to be loved, is the greatest gift you can get? Is to love, the greatest gift you can give? Could you possibly be happier? Could the happiness be short-lived? Does being loved or to love brings more satisfaction and fulfilment?

Does love weakens one, or brings strength to one? Is love a disease to be eradicated or even manipulated to one's on means? Or is love a blessing, that marks the meaning of humanity itself?

And how does one ensure that everyone in love relationships, would stay true to the ethical guidelines...?

I hate to ruin everyone's great plans for Valentines Day, and worse, even ruin the big day for you all...But, sometimes, it's good to have these sentiments on that meaningful day too...It makes you realize that love is not just love, not just a feel good feeling, but something more...They could teach you to not take love for granted and learn to appreciate your loved ones more...

And most of all, it might give your typical annual Valentine's Day a little more something special...

In truth, whether the love in question turns out to be good or evil, it's the humans who're in charge, who make them so. It's up to you. 

Finally, on a different note, wish y'all a Happy Be-early-ed Valentines Day!!!!!!!! 

About Teen Writing

This post has been taking an exceptionally long time for me to write. Not because it was hard to write or me being just plain lazy...but I could never harden my resolve to write it. Because...I was afraid. Afraid that I'm not good enough, wouldn't do a good enough justice for my category of peeps--teens. (Okay, maybe a part of it was because I procastinate too.)
I am afraid of the jeering, the booing, the ultimate put-down I would have had to face once I published this post. I might cause a big humiliation to teens, just because I did a bad job in writing this post. But, in the end, I couldn't refrain myself. It was just too tempting.
Okay, enough of this vague, self-explanatory, wallowing in self-pity, and desperate attempt of garnering some sympathy piece of speech. I guess I kinda left you a cliff-hanger long enough. (Sorry, my bad; I love rambling...)
What started this post was my reading that post. 'Coz that post actually contain really good advice. But (a really BIG BUT), I certainly do not think that teen writing sucks. I'm still treading those troubled waters real cautious; the author John Scalzi, had written another post, of which logically and analytically (even to the extent of writing another post to that) rebuked any arguments that could have laid down by teenagers. While I agree to some of them, I do still have my own stand about the overall of the statement that teen writing sucks.
I'm not going to list all the successful published teenage writers, but rather explain why I think that teen writing do not suck.
Let's set aside the aspects of grammar(I agree with John Scalzi on this), because people don't always read because of amazing language and grammars, but rather because of the stories. Of course, those are important to enjoy a good story, so this not-so-good piece of argument can only be applied on the basis of those teens I'm helping to fight for our rights have good enough grammar.
John Scalzi stated that because we're young, we lack of the experiences to make our writing interesting, or powerfully thought-provoking/heart-warming/inspiring etc. I do agree, BUT, our experiences, sometimes, can be compelling enough. Being teenagers, we're emotionally unique from the younger ones to adults. We're full of angst, emotionally driven, thanks to our hormones, which can be a good thing, 'coz it provides a different perspective, and evoke a different feeling that could not have otherwise be experienced through an adult writing.
Oh, come on, no adults could totally write like a teen anymore. Yes, you can say that they can remember their teenagehood, and as John Scalzi had rightly argued, humans remain pretty much the same across the years. But, things are different through the years, and these do affect the coming generations(behaviour, feeling, emotions, thinking etc.), if not directly, then indirectly.
Having said that adults do remember their experiences and feelings during their teenage years, they could not still completely understand today's teenagers. For reason above(proof: My parents always reprimand me that when they were my age, they didn't do things my way, which is wrong; teenagers from different eras cannot possibly have the same thinking.) and also because of this: As you grow older, you gain more wisdom, a wider perspective about certain things, through your experinces. Hence, you create an awareness in you. For example, you would realize that some things you did during your teens are ridiculous and stupid. These insights you'll carry it through your life. As a result, these will help you control your temper, your angst, and help tune it down. Hence, no adult could completely convince themselves to think like a teen anymore, to behave like a teen, and of course, to write like a teen(for parts where they behave stupidly). Thus, no adults could project that kind of angst, emotion, feeling accurately in their writing. You could probably argue that, hey, there are a lot of successful YA authors who are adults. Yes, personally, I do enjoy them, and I think they were simply awesomw authors. But, somehow, their writing will always be distinguishable from teen writing.
Not because teen writing sucks. But, because, teens write merely differently, uniquely, and specially from adults. And, I sincerely believe, teens would be able to identify with it more.
The conclusion is, teen writing could serve as a fresh perspective for other readers(there's too many adult writers, in my opinion). Teen writing could probably even provoke a sense of nostalgia in adult readers...As long as these teen writers have a good story to write about, a good enough grammar, and knew how to invoke their voice and insights in their writing, they wouldn't suck. And there are quite a number of them in the blogging community, if you truly search for them...That's why teen writers like Steph Bowe and Christopher Paolini ends up so successful. (sorry about this, I'm aware that I'd promise not to include them, but i couldn't help it...)
This is why I don't think teen writing sucks. In fact, I think they could probably add a whole new, unique, special and fresh flavour into the writing community.
And for these very reasons, though I might lack the wittiness, the allure, the compelling attraction, the sophistication of an adult writer or adult blogger, but I'm proud that I'm a teen. I'm proud that I'm special because of it. And my writing certainly do not suck.
I do not suck. And you, teens, certainly do NOT suck!

About Tiger Mother

Yesterday's article on the newspaper, "Tiger Mother vs Tiger Mum", caught my eye.
I read it.
It gives the short account of Amy Chua's(the Tiger Mother) life, from another American mother's perspective. It tells of how Amy Chua ruined her life after publishing a book about her strict (and horrifying, to a lot of people) parenting style. Mostly, it talks about the understanding of another parent towards Amy Chua of her efforts.
Yeah, you probably could guess it by now that I'm not going to be one of those who're going to send hate mails to Amy Chua. (No? Well, you know now.)
You probably wonder why I would do such a thing. Especially being a child to a pair of Asian parents as well.
Before I continue, I should make it clear that my mom is no Amy Chua. That's probably why I'm not even made up of half of what's Amy Chua's daughters made of.
Then why?
Amy Chua said, "schools are always trying to make learning fun by having parents do all the work", which I totally agree.
While I'm not going to be efficient, intelligent, interesting, witty, competitive, ambitious, and charismatic, I'm still able to hold my own somewhat, despite it all, because of my mom. I am who I am today, because of my mom. And I must say, I'm quite satisfied, with the exception of occasional improvements here and there. Nobody's going to be totally and forever proud of themselves; that's why there's always room for improvement. So...I'm not proud, and not completely satisfied, but I guess, I'm still good to go, at this stage. Anyway, as I had said earlier, there's always room for improvement, and time of course.
And because of my mom, I could understand Amy Chua.
Her efforts was for the sake of her children. Everything she did, she wanted the best for her children. For such those noble sacrifices that she made...how horrifying could they be?
As a child, I understand and appreciate my mom's efforts.
And therefore, I respect and salute to Amy Chua, the Tiger Mom.   

Does lying really save lives?

I read Lying Saves Lives by ElizabethFluorishinginProgress ages ago.
You gotta be wondering, So what are you doing writing a post that's evidently a kinda sequel to that?
If you didn't know better yet, I have a slow brain. It just occurs to me that I could add a little something (for this case, it's my not-even-a-penny-worth of opinion; sad, I know, but what can I do?) to it. If it even needs one in the first place.
You see, if I'm even in the right mind, I wouldn't have the guts to do what I'm doing right now? Who the hell do I think I am, an unpublished writer, that I can do a better job than a published writer? But, I'm very much clear-headed. The only explanation is that, either I'm bored or desperate or both.
I'm bored because I've nothing to do (either reading or blogging; the downside of blogging is that its activities are slow as snails). I'm desperate because I need to do my homework(blogging) right now, because I can predict, in near future, I'll be to busy to do it anymore, so this's a small compensation to my dear readers for it.
Back to topic.
It suddenly striked me, for no reason at all, that the lying meant, could also be applied on the lying that we humans almost always do to blind ourselves to the reality. (Okay, I'm lying; there's a reason for these sentiments, it's because of the movie again. Remember, the movie?)
First, let me give you a short recap of the another part of the story that I did not give you in my earlier post.
There was a bitter rivalry between two movie stars. As usual, there's one good guy and one bad guy. Or girls for that matter. Well, the bad guy, or girl, kept thinking of tricks to stamp out the good girl. In her one last attempt, she got herself burnt instead (when she had wanted to burn the good girl to death). It was her acts that had end herself up into such a situation, but, in the end, she made herself believe that it was the good girl who had want to burn her. And, as a result of her hatred, fury and bitterness, she went almost crazy, and shot the good girl to death. She herself ended up in prison, and perhaps the loony bin. Finally, I don't think she was ever released from her own cycle of pain, suffering and hatred that she had trapped herself inside. The good girl might have died, but she was happy and peaceful. But the bad girl? Who was the victorious one in the end? Who had the last laugh?
In the end, it was ironic.
It was horrifying that we humans could lie to ourselves like that.
I finally understand that why they say, our worst enemy is ourselves.
For all we can say or accuse of, nobody could trapped us in unhappiness, if we choose not too. In truth, we are the ones who trapped ourselves.
We are the ones who determine our happiness.
Don't be narrow-minded; never trapped yourselves.
And be happy.

Self-Revolution

This morning, I was flipping through other people's blogs as usual, albeit being somewhat irritated and guilty.
My sister and me were the last two person who were finishing the bananas, and had a squabble on who should cleaned the plate.
Yeah, I know that being so old now, I should have acted more mature, and not get worked up at such petty things like that, but...I was blogging and couldn't bear to get away from it just to clean a plate.
My sister (who can be an opportunist sometimes), with the excuse of having homework (and I don't), locked herself up in a bedroom, leaving me fuming. And I, who can be stubborn mule sometimes, was certain without a doubt that my sister was the last one who finished the bananas, so therefore be the one who cleaned up, and refused to remove myself from my seat, with my eyes still stubbornly glued to the screen.
It was like old times again.
My mom, at that point, was arranging something, when in a hurry, instead scattered everything onto the floor. As a result, she had to bent her already fatigued body, to pick them up.
My guilt escalated.
At that point, quite suddenly, it dawned on me that, eventhough I had refused to clean up the plate just to get back at my sister, it wasn't so, because all I had done in the end, hurt my mom instead.
Mom was the one who suffered instead.
What I hadn't understood then (when I was young), I understand now.
My pettiness, and the wrong thinking that somehow I can get back at my sister through my pettiness, my distorted concept of "justice"/"retribution", instead trapped me, my sister and mother (the most innocent victim) into suffering, unhappiness, and more anger and hate.
But when I finally did cleaned the plate (honest), and helped my mom to clear the scattered things up, a sense of tranquility and calmness settled over me, that I've never felt before, and came only through my understanding.
And I am truly happy.
That's why I decided to write this post. To share with you all.
I'm now on the path of forgiveness, joy, and self-fufilment.
I'm on the road to a bright future, and perhaps success.
I'm on the route of self-discovery, and self-evolutionto a better person.
I'm self-revoluting.
And I am happy.

Faith

Last night, I watched a movie.
It was one of those rare, very rare movies, that presented the reality of our world, the ugly truth about our lives in this world.
As usual, there were characters, good and bad, whom (It seems rude to call the characters that, though I know they are still not human despite of anything I called them) I would pine for or hate.
There was this one character.
The typical honest, a bit too blockheaded for my liking (or for anyone's for that matter) guy, who didn't lie (in fact, couldn't), and often reduced to a stuttering mess everytime he's nervous, victimised, or happy (too), and (even) when he's normal, experiencing no whatever highs or lows.
Yup, very boring. Not the kind that would get me hooked.
But, biazzrely, something in me cried out when he died in the movie. Not the kind of miserable, oh-no-you-are-gone-forever kind of cry. But, the kind that resonated deep and strong in my mind, heart and soul. The kind that got me thinking deep into the middle of night.
My mom, quoting from someone, once told me, "It takes many kind of people to make this kind of world."
Odd that the death of a character could get me thinking of this quote again.
That character (I'll call him Pumpkin; he's a bit plump) was, no doubt a good person, a protagonist, a very unlikely hero, who met his end all because of his kindness. (Lots of irony, alright!)
Let me give you a short recap of his untimely, ill-fated death.
He was in love with a girl who eloped with a conman, after a forced arranged marriage with an old but rich man. It was the girl's fate and stupidity (sorry, I'm rude, but she's very infuriating) that she loved that conman, because the conman betrayed her in the end. He eloped with her because of money, and when he used up all the money they stole from the old rich man on the night they eloped, he turned her in to the old man for a handsome reward, as well as accussing the poor Pumpkin to be her lover. So, in the end, Pumpkin and the girl were beaten to death by the old man's hired gangsters.
So, there ends Pumpkin.
Pumpkin is a good guy, without doubt. Eventhough he's boring, he's a beautiful person, because he has an inner beauty: a heart made of gold.
Yet, being a good person, he did not have good blessings. And the conman, the bad guy, did not get the retribution that he deserved.
Our world becomes what people living on it, made of it.
Does this means that more evil people will emerge victorious, and our world will become an uglier, and a darker place?
If that is so, why should we do good anymore?
Often, these questions, uncertainties between good and evil raged endlessly in my mind.
Don't get me wrong, I have a religion. I believe in God.
But, somtimes, when things get out of control even when I've tried so hard, when I've done all I could've done for that person and yet he/she was ungrateful, when people accussed me until I started to feel guilty but I know deep in my heart that I did nothing wrong and even tried my best, I just can't help questioning about God, even when I know it's sinful. Because I just don't know anything anymore. Sometimes, I feel so lost.
What do you do, at times like these?
I? I try to remeber.
I remember, everytime I do something good, I'm filled with joy. I feel good about myself. The feelings, emotions that surrounded me were beautiful.
It's not worthwhile...so let's make it worthwhile, by doing good often.
We might not be able to make our world more beautiful, but we can make our lives beautiful.
Let's make our lives beautiful...and together, let's make our world also a beautiful one.

My "thank you speech"

The results to the Flash Fiction contest are finally announced...but, I will leave you to read about it yourself by linking you to the related blogpost below:

Novel Ideas

Sorry for the suspense, and here's my thank you speech:

Special thanks to ElizabethFluorishinginProgress, Kathy, yousotsars!, Ally Sestito (for both following my blog, and hosting such a terrific contest. Yup, her blog is the Novel Ideas!), Gabrielle (CONGRATS Gabrielle! You ARE a great writer! Keep it up!), jacqui, "Alex", Prenter, juliathewritergirl, ohnoa, Becca, whitneysoup, etc. for their continuous moral support, without which I would not have preserve and make it to today.

Sorry and extra thanks to those that I've neglected or forgotten to mention, but always bear in mind that you will always be in my heart and have my utmost gratitude.

Thank you to my family, without them I would not have even make it. Many, many thanks.

Thank you those blogs I followed diligently and faithfully, for they have been the great example and model, and the motivation behind my work. They are ElizabethFluorishinginProgress, Kathy, yousotsars!, Ally Sestito, Gabrielle, and Bridgit (who probably didn't even know of my existence, I'm afraid). But, thanks!

And of course, lots of thanks to my teachers, and BOOKS, and FAMILY, all of whom and which made who I am today.

THANK YOU.