Tuesday, 31 January 2012


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.

Tuesday, 24 January 2012

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.


Sunday, 15 January 2012

Having a voice

Earlier, I checked a blog of a fellow blogger, Kathy, who has been witty, ingenious and absolutely hilarious, and of whom I'd been faithfully following. (She did a project called Gorrade, which consists of photographs shehad taken, plus all those funny and witty comments she wrote with them! You can check it out here.)
She got her own original blog which is like her online journal(you can check it out here), and it was this blog when I finally catched a glimpse of her. The real her.
I couldn't believe my eyes. ( I blinked a few times; turned my head and then flinged it at the screen; goggled at the picture...). Seriously. Don't get me wrong. She's totally cool and kinda pretty. BUT unexpected! Totally different from that image I'd conjured up in my head ever since I read her blog.
Her blog is so witty, and crazy( in a great way of course!) that I never thought she'd looked so sweet. She looked so innocent (and pretty of couse!) that you'd never believed that she could be so michevious on the blog. It just couldn't be her! But it is.
(I always thought I'd be the only one who'd made people fell off their chair, considering the fact that I act like an angel outwardly, but is actually a devil inside. Don't get me wrong, I'm not superficial or fake. I never dared to hurt anyone by saying no or being a devil, but sometimes I feel like hurting them so that I can have a break/ be selfish for my own sake for once...)
I do realize that the above has no wahtsoever relation to the title above, but, it is the above that made me thought about the title.
Lately, I've been reading about fellow teen writers, reading about how to improve my writing skills, while denting my ego a little bit along the way. A lot of people had been advising about having a voice( which I've no idea about. Yup, guilty!).
How to have a voice? When I was young, I'd read too much Enid Blytons and Nancy Drews, so my writing happened to resembled those of them. But, gradually(I'd no idea when), they changed, becoming descriptive instead. Who do they resembled? Anyone, any idea?
Right now, I do realized I'm verging on talking whenever I blog, and if I do story telling it'd be either descriptive, or talking again.
Sometimes, I tried too hard to write like my friends or certain writers. I'd wished so hard that I could be witty and cool like them. But I never could. I'm always verging on being long-winded and over self-indulgent. I'd no idea how to correct it, not even the wiser me now. *Sigh*
In the end, it was Kathy (yup, the cool blogger above) who made me realized that it didn't matter. That I was wrong too.
Who are we to judge people, to classify people through stereotypes? Who are we to tell someone that he/she is who we think he/she is? Who are we to tell someone that they are boring? ( Even if they are, they contributed too; there's a new addition to english vocabulary 'boring' because of them.) Regardless, they are special as they are, and we definitely do not have the right to critique them. Plus, not everyone can be boring!
Conclusion: People are who they are only as they think who they are.
Hence, long-winded, boring, self-indulgent and all, I'm still going to be me, and still unique. It's those traits, even when they're bad, that stood me out from others. That made me special.
What more could I ask for? Right?
p/s. On a happy note, I'm going to relish in the fact that all of you're going to fell off the chair when you finally saw the real me. On a second thought, maybe not. After all, I'm still the boring one. =/

Wednesday, 11 January 2012

I just competed in the Flash Fiction Contest!

YES!!!!!!!!!! I did! Wish me luck!

There's still no result yet. But here's my entry:

Hope in Blizzard (yes, I admit the name's crappy. Perhaps I'll change it later.)

The ice crackled like fire under my feet. Every step I took, it rustled like soft powder…Yet, the frost yielded such a bitter chill that it scalded my bare feet.
Like pin and needles, it stabbed, pricked and pierced into my tender feet. Unforgivingly, it seared through my soles and to the nerves, slowly but mercilessly scorching into my spine, burning into every fiber of my body.
Every step was an agony. The bitter, blistering chill was creeping slowly along my spine, seeping into it. Like molten lead, it flowed and glided slickly and cunningly, and, slowly like a snake it shrouded around every single nerve of mine and my spine, stiffening my whole body, locking my limbs.
Unconsciously, my body was hunching, and my limbs bent and numb. My joints screamed in protest, jarring my bones, at the slightest movement.
In the end, I had to shuffled, waddling as gently as I could. Every now and then, I paused for a small rest, slowly flexing my freezing fingers and toes, trying desperately to eke out some heat.
Above me, the raging wind whipped around me harshly, threatening to topple me, but I strongly and firmly trudged on. My ever-hunched body stooped even lower, as I attempted desperately to hide as much of my body as possible, away from the ice, the wind, the frost.
It was cold, so cold.

But…dangling from my arm, was a small tattered basket. A whiff of heat emanated softly but strongly, warmly soothing my freezing arm. An occasional sweet aroma of freshly baked bread leaked towards my nose, and it is these that egged me on, offering me a measure of comfort and warmth.

I slogged on, determined, firm, unwavering. Onwards, to my destination.
Lumbering on, my heart was blazing with a renewed vigor.         
A few miles away, Katie Midland was waiting for her sister to come home.
“Katie, I…I’m hungry.”
A pair of doe eyes glanced at Katie, shone with guilt, shame, uncertainty, fear, and misery. The thin, emaciated Angie was racking with pangs of hunger, but there was nothing Katie could do to help her.
“Angie, I’m sorry. There’s no more food.”
A whimper escaped from Angie’s lips before she could restrain herself.
Never had Katie felt so helpless before in her life. Her heart broke every time she laid her eyes on Angie’s wasting, withering figure. But there was nothing she could do.
“Come on Angie. Let’s wait for Sara. She’s coming back with food…”
Hopefully. Katie prayed fervently for Sara’s return with food. There’s our only hope. She wrapped herself around Angie’s withered body, desperately hoping for the best, yet bracing herself for the worst.
Soon. Soon I will be home.
My muscles squealed with a throbbing ache as I forced myself to take a few more steps. The cottage swam shakily into view, and I blinked my eyes a few times to make sure that it was still there.
Gritting my teeth, I trudged on painfully, and slowly, painstakingly, the cottage grew bigger in my view.
A few more steps. A few more steps. And then, I will be home.
Sluggishly, I coaxed myself towards the cottage.
Katie heard a soft thump outside the door. Her heart lurched.
Swiftly, she opened the door.
Lying face down on the ground was Sara, almost covered with snow, until Katie could hardly make her out, if not for her black ear flaps peeking out. And her basket of food, of course.
That night, the forlorn cottage was filled with laughter and hope.
Okay, I agree that it's probably not much...as I wrote it in one day! And I most probably won't win, as there're more experienced teen writers out there.
Anyways, I WANT your feedback. Whether it's good or bad, I want the truth...and how I can improve further on my writing.
Feel free to dare me with your criticisms!
THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thursday, 5 January 2012

Dwelling in the weirdness of all

Ok, this is kind of weird.
I never thought this would ever happen to me, but it did. It feels so surreal to me.
sars!, you were totally right about resolutions. (Oh, by the way, I love how you spell your name sars! It's real wacky. Cool.) I hate resolutions.
It used to be my mom asking us to write a list of things that we expected to achieve at the end of a new year ( as if we would!). Oddly enough, mom didn't exactly forced us to. Perhaps its those cultural belief that had been drilled unconsciously into the back of our heads, that if you don't, you'll happen to turn out to be a big failure. Don't know why that used to scare me anyway, seeing how I AM a big failure right now.
So, when we're all grown up, and mom didn't deem it appropriate to order us around anymore, thus by that time, I cease to make any kind of a list of resolutions. Is it any wonder that I'm such a messy ( a mess of myself, in mind and body and soul) person?
Ok, I'm aware that I'm rambling on, and the things that I'm saying above is not the point of the post. This is a testimony to my above statement that I DO make a mess of myself.
For such an unassertive and passive person like me, I could be quite active sometimes. I have faced a crisis lately, that is having not an inspiration to write a post in my blog. Guess what I've been doing? Yup, I've been searching for blogs to read, to steal some inspiration from. But nothing. Ok, I'm lying, there is something, something about 10 things about teen writing that sucks, but the blogger, Bridgit, whose blog that had lead me to it, did such justice that I thought, I might just humiliate myself if I do another again. But then...it would mean I finished my homework (blogging) too. So, I'm still contemplating...
Anyway, back to the topic. So I've been reading and following, hoping to get some feedback somehow. From them. But, unexpectedly, I got another kind of feedback instead, which was even better, but still it didn't kinda eliminate the weirdness that come with it.
You see, after reading about the 10 things about teen writing that sucks (and another likewise post that made me feel even suckier...oops, my writing is definitely going down the drain), I kinda become deflated. I tried to connect with teens instead. Perhaps they won't think that my writing sucks because we could be on the same wavelengths?
I sunk even deeper into depression when no, absolutely none, thought my writing is worthy enough for a read. Ok, maybe I'm too harsh...They could be busy, right? Since it's a new year and all, AND one or two did give some feedback after all. But I'm so low in self-esteem that I wonder is it because of sympathy? Empathy? Or real connection towards what I'm writing?
That's when God decided to show me that miracles do happen. Ally Sestito and sars!, two of my brand-new followers told me through their actions that my writing is worthy enough. One is a rising blogger and soon-to-be a successful young novelist, and the other is a mature, sophisticated and confident blogger, who's not afraid to be opinionated (a good thing! which I'm sorely lacking in...) with great writing skills to boot! One just couldn't help wondering what was it that they saw in me...
Especially sars!. I mean, come on, I'm an immature teen, who don't know half the things I'm rambling about (what more of other's blog?!), and kept running out of ideas to blog, AND also love being plain lazy. What's it with me?!
So yeah. I'm real estatic, sickened with euphoria, and...*taking a deep, DEEP breath* THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The real conclusion of all (besides this post being yet again a gratitude post...yes, I AM aware that I keep churning out gratitude post! Sorry...), doing a good turn brought a good turn back to you. In the least expected form during the least expected moment.
So...don't ever give up. Don't lose faith. And always do good. ( It's boring, but truth nonetheless.)
Overall, it IS a boring post, but hey! I HAVE done my homework. And it's new year after all. I'm supposed to have fun. PLUS, this is my journey in writing. It is what I'd learned in my journey, and this is what you'll get. Pardon my rudeness, but this is my blog, Journey in Writing.
Hope you enjoy my ramblings. XP

Sunday, 1 January 2012

Huh?! It's new year already...?

So, yesterday was a last minute shopping in welcome for the new year. (Just in case you needed some reassurances, nope, I've NOT finished my shopping yet.)
My two legs had felt like falling off my body by the time I get back home.
My sister actually realised that it was the last day of 2011, which sadly escaped my totally zonked out brain. She was actually chattering of "Wanna stay up late? There's going to be fireworks!" and I was like "Why even stay up late?! I'm like a zombie already! And I HATE fireworks; they wake me up from a much needed goodnight sleep..."
And today, after waking up on a very late morning, I only realized that today's a brand new year, after reading off the date that's screaming off "1st of January 2012".

Oh dear. Don't even get me sarted on new year resolutions.
Resolutions. *Cringe* Thar's why I hate new years.
They make me feel like a failure.

Oh well. Happy New Year to me. =/