Hot Views - Confessions of a Shopaholic

Frustration is an unbearable feeling. And I'm feeling a lot of that lately. It's not just because no literary agent is showing interest in my work; it's because none of the people I know are willing to read my work. No one - no one - is interested in When the Lilies Turn Orange at all. No one's going, "Omg, I absolutely love the characters you created and I especially love this scene where (insert scene)..." Everyone's just telling me to keep going at it and that my story's fine. Fine is not a critique. It is hardly even an opinion at all. Worse, it might even mean that they didn't bother to read it, so this word is all they can offer to get me off their backs.

I don't understand. Why isn't anyone interested at all? Does my story really suck that much? My worth as a writer has been shot to shit. If I can't even get my friends and family to support it, who else can I get? Those published writers, they all seem to have members of their family or friends who are such devout fans of their books, so much so that they read every draft, and go into long, in-depth discussions as to how to bring the book further. That is true dedication, that is true interest and fandom. People whom I had expected would read my story and get excited about it - at least relate to the characters - aren't. I'm not demanding them to go around promoting my book, but somehow I can't help but feel this sense of disappointment, you know?

I was just listening to Runaway World by Making April, and the song brought me back to that glorious period just after A's and I kept going to Toa Payoh stadium to run/walk and then the library later to do research for/work on my story. The magic is still in that song. It was so much fun working on Lilies; it gave me such joy to be thinking of how I should move the story forward, or make the characters interact, or reveal something each chapter bit by bit until the end, or finally tie everything up at the end.

I remember the almost-debilitating sense of loss that had settled upon me as I edited the last page of the very first stand-alone novel I'd completed (previous attempts don't count - they're more like trial runs to me, since none of them were ever as solidly close to me like Lilies was). I miss playing Runaway World repeatedly when I needed to write a scene between Connell and Raven, and I miss working on Lilies altogether. I put so much of myself into that story.

Want to know why?

Because I had fallen in love with it. It may sound conceited, what I've just said. But I'm sure every writer is in love with their stories, especially if they've seen it all the way to the end. Why else would they believe in it so much as to go to all the trouble of looking for an agent, going through all the editing process and promotional events? They believe in the story they had to tell, the story they had worked hard to tell for the past year or so, just like I believe in mine. Lilies has become part of my life; it stands for a period of time in my life that I truly enjoyed. Writing a novel, you see, is like what child birth is reputed to be like: you forget all the pain - the frustration, the writer's blocks, the days you doubt yourself - once it's over. After the novel's complete and edited, it's your baby, a piece of you and you'd do anything to see it do well.

That's why it pains me so much now that no-one believes in my baby the way I do. Will it have to come to the point where I'd have to pay people to read my story? That would be a tragedy.

All this angst kind of makes me wonder if passion for something is enough to take you where you want to be.

Frustration.

WHY WON'T ANYBODY READ MY DAMN STORY.

WHY WON'T ANY AGENT GIVE ME A POSITIVE RESPONSE.

Fuck it all.

I need some Aladdin to pull me out of this rut.

Once Upon a December

A Whole New World

Colors of the Wind

To accomplish great things, we must not only act, but also dream; not only plan, but also believe. ~ Anatole France.

Just had to start out this post with something cheesy but inspiring. So I've been querying more literary agents again - this time from the UK instead of the US - since I haven't heard a reply from the local agent/publisher I mentioned previously. Guess that's disinterest if I ever saw it. Sigh.

Been reading Kerouac's On the Road, which was basically what Supernatural was based on: two guys on a road trip through the dusty backroads of America. And can I just say that Dean Winchester's completely like Dean Moriarty from the book - the penchant for girls and booze, and the frivolous lifestyle. It's amazing. Kerouac's writing style is kinda like JD Salinger's, a lot of monologue, but it's okay, because the narrator's not speaking in a convoluted manner with lots of big words. I was sorry The Catcher in the Rye had to end so soon; Holden Caulfield is such an authentic character, sort of an anti-hero that you love despite his flaws. Like Dean Winchester. *wink* Of course, it doesn't hurt to have someone as hot as Jensen playing him. But I digress.

Went out with the gang the other night, and I guess it was watching the funny scenes from Gilmore Girls and Supernatural on YouTube that made me really high the whole night. The rest of them thought I was going nuts and planning my suicide the next day. Look who's being melodramatic now. Lol.

You know, just a random thought. I have really got to stop saying lol. I don't know why I should, but I just think I should. Okay, like I said, random.

Dean-isms :)

Just got back from reading Kellynn's blog. She is SO DARN GOOD it makes me want to abandon writing altogether.

Yet another reason I'm a freak: I stayed up till 4am last night, just thinking and crying sporadically and spontaneously about 5-6 times throughout. I listened to the radio, and heard songs reminiscent of the past. 'Rhinestone Cowboy' is one of my dad's favourite songs, cause he likes Glenn Campbell. And then there was this Natalie Imbruglia song that reminded me of Sec 3. And then some other song that brought me back to when I was in primary school and dad and I went swimming every Sunday at River Valley Swimming Complex (it's closed now), and we'd go over to Daimaru for lunch and then the National Library later. He really spent a hell lot of time with me.

And I just started questioning myself if I was good enough for him. All my life, I've always wanted to be the daughter he always wanted. I'm sorry, this is shaping up to be a really sappy-ass post. But I guess self-doubt plagues you when the night is cold. He invested so much effort and time into me. He's really a simple guy. Not simple in the head, of course, but his dreams and hopes (OMG, major fucking cliche - sorry bout that!) are relatively simple enough. I'm not being big-headed or anything, but I really believe that what will make him happy is me doing well in life. I just wish I can give something back to him.

And then, as I mentioned, I was reminded of Sec 3 as well. So I started having these flashbacks of me, Ger, Jerm, YL and the whole gang in the caf, at our lockers, in Mrs Singh's Chemistry class (there was once when we totally slacked off at the back of the class when Mrs Singh wasn't around and Keith reliefed us), on the sofa in our homeroom. I wonder if they think I've changed; I know I must have. Somehow, I feel like I've let them down. It's strange. Friendship has never been on the top of my priority list, because I've always believed friends come and go from your life. I mean, I don't even keep in contact with my Sec 2 friends anymore, except Khrish (love you). The only constant is just always your family. Somehow, I just view friends as strangers you spend more time with. They don't know how you're really like, they can choose not to love you, they can choose to stop being your friend. Family - they're always there, by default, and they'll always love you; they'll never leave you. Maybe that's why I've been such a loner lately. Sometimes, it's just easier being alone. No conflicts, no consensus needed; just do your own thing. No need to worry about saying the wrong thing, or wanting to be alone, or offending people. I know I can't say these things to them, because they'll probably get mad at me (proves my previous point).

I guess the problem with me is that I'm too - I don't know - caught up in my own head? I'm the quintessential introvert; psychologists can probably base their own stereotype of introverts on me. So I tend to think a lot, and internalise my conversations. Things that people (like Gerlynn, maybe) might verbalise, I'll keep it stewing in my head. Guess that's why I don't contribute much to conversations. I'm just too worried about saying the wrong thing, too afraid to offend people.

I just wish I can be a better friend to them all. They're really sweet (and on a sidenote, thanks to YL who's been so understanding and concerned), and it's really a 'it's not you, it's me' case (lol).

I am SO rambling.

But yeah, this is why I kept crying last night. I just want to be the person everyone wants me to be, so that I won't fall short of their expectations - as a daughter, as a student, and as a friend. Sometimes, I think I already have.

Anyway, got this from a psychology book (I just felt it rang so true; it's almost scary):


* Loner Style: Loners drift, with little strong attachment to anyone.

Internal:
- Comfort is found in being solitary
- Rarely expresses anger
- Does not reveal him/herself easily
- Is harsh towards self
- Chooses hobbies and interests that allows him/her to be alone; eg. Math, computers, writing, etc
- Appears bland and cold, with little emotional activity

Interpersonal:
- Does not engage in the usual social smiles or nods
- Detached; does not want social relationships and lacks skill to deal with others
- Avoids emotional entanglements; very restricted emotionally
- Appears superficial or self-absorbed due to lack of interest in others (how many times have Ger called me selfish?)
- Few, if any, close friends; may be close to a member of the family
- Finds social closeness difficult, maybe even terrifying
- Other people are a source of pain, not comfort.

This, my good souls, is why I suck at one-on-ones, or appear taciturn over the phone.

Jensen Ackles - Romantic Scene from Smallville

Guess it's time to blog.

I don't know where to begin. Maybe making a list will be easier.

1. Okay, I'm obsessed with Supernatural at the moment, as you can probably tell from all the name-changing on Facebook and uploading of Jared&Jensen clips here. Can't friggin wait for Season 4's DVD. It's going to last only 5 seasons, which is a waste, because Eric Kripke is a genius and should keep writing some more. And because of Supernatural (best TV show on earth to date), I've recently been listening to something I don't really listen to normally: classic rock. Ie, Metallica, Black Sabbath, Deep Purple, AC/DC, Kansas (head over to my playlist and check out the bottom of the list for the newest additions). I've got Eye of the Tiger and Carry on, My Wayward Son and Dead or Alive stuck in my head in auto-replay! So loving it.

2. Am at home working on my story now, Bedful of Moonlight. And I am friggin stuck. I don't know if it's a writer's block or just plain old cluelessness as to how the story should progress, but this sucks. I don't wish to abort this project. Maybe that's why I feeling kinda blah lately.

3. Another reason why I'm not so chipper at the moment is because I've queried probably close to EIGHTY effin literary agents so far, and none of them are interested. Jerm and Ger tell me it's cause of the recession and financial downturn (that's an understatement) that no agency is willing to pick up new writers. I guess. Still, it's so demoralising. I've queried this local publisher, Lance Ng, from Renaissance Publishing, but he hasn't replied. I just hope I'll get a positive response soon, or I'm just going to go nuts. I mean, 80 rejections slips. That's really sad. It's why I've been looking for competitions to enter so I can build up my resume. But overseas competitions need credit card payment of entry fees, and I don't have one. And Singapore isn't exactly bursting with a lot of opportunities for aspiring writers to break into the market.

Oh well. I guess no one ever said this will be easy. Still, I'll keep going. I've got it all planned out. I'm going to study English Language in NUS, and then apply for teaching for two years (or maybe not, depending on the economic climate when I graduate) and then move on to work in a magazine company, like Cleo or Seventeen, and I'll work my way up to editor. In the meantime, I'll keep doing what I love - creative writing - and sending them for competitions.

I don't think I'll go into journalism. As in, newsroom journalism. I can't stand that kinda writing. Feeding people with the bare facts isn't writing; it's reporting. You'd have to follow a certain format and lose whatever style you might call your own, and just tell people what they want to know. That sounds really ... boring. I mean, it's not for me, okay.

4. I don't really know what I'm living for right now. Like, I'm not being financially-productive, and writing my stories ... well, I'm stuck, what the hell can I do other than take a break from it? Watching Supernatural... It doesn't feel productive, know what I mean? So right now, I am WANDERING, man. I hate being so aimless. At least when I was studying, I had something to work towards.

Wtv. This sucks. Ima go listen to some Dead or Alive (Bon Jovi) right now. (And think of the Winchester boys butchering it - although Dean/Jensen is actually a pretty darn good singer.) Talk to you when I'm less zoned out.

Below: Jensen Ackles (Dean Winchester) and Jared Padalecki (Sam Winchester). I run with Dean, duh. Chiselled cheekbones, maculine jaw, smouldering gaze, deep sexy voice, strong muscled back, badass/tongue-in-cheek attitude (as Dean, that is), but shy and humble in real life. Seriously, it's no competition. Jensen Ackles is HOTTTT, and such a talented actor. Although Sam/Jared does have a cute smile (see picture on the right).

Supernatural // Eye Of The Tiger (Full Clip)

The Perfect 10:
1. Character is everything - make people want to spend time with them.
2. Get the story going - hit the ground running.
3. Medium and format - choose the right form for your story - whether it be radio, tv, film or theatre.
4. Coherence - know your world and story. Authenticity is key.
5. Emotion - make sure your stories matter on a human level.
6. Surprise - cliches kill a story!
7. Structure is key - start at the right place, and make sure you keep the energy up for the ending.
8. Exposition and expression - exposition is the biggest problem they have!
9. Passion - does it get under your skin?
10. Be yourself - have an original, distinct voice.

From http://missread.blogspot.com/search/label/Writersroom

I must have accumulated up to FIFTY rejection slips from literary agents around the world by now. This is seriously depressing. I just want someone to be interested in my story, to believe in it the way I do, to be interested in representing me. Is that so hard? Sigh. I guess it's because nobody wants to represent a writer without any credentials. I haven't won any nationwide writing competitions, or published anything in magazines or papers... Maybe that's the reason for my less-than-desired responses.

I've sent my query letter for Lilies to Renaissance Publishing, this guy called Lance Ng, along with the first three chapters of my manuscript. Hope his response will be positive. If not I might really have to try self-publishing.

And self-publishing is a real headache. Because you're basically doing EVERYTHING yourself. All the negotiations, finding the best value for your money, looking for a willing editor (right now, I can't even find someone who's willing to READ my story), printing, cover-designing (and goodness knows I can't design anything for nuts), along with other stuff. Not only that, it'll all cost a friggin bomb.

This is the advice given on renaissance.sg (this publishing company in Singapore):


How to Self-Publish Your Book Without Spending a Single Cent:
* Find someone to help you edit the book for free. A manuscript MUST be edited by an independent party. It is near to impossible to edit your own work well! Any author can read their own books ten times and still miss out errors. The human brain is simply wired to anticipate patterns based on familiarities. To hire a professional editor, a novel length book will likely cost you well over a thousand dollars. It is, after all, a tedious job and requires some proper training. You can do this for free by getting your family and friends to edit it. Top of the list should be people you know who have experience as writers, publishers, editors, proofreaders etc. People with degree majors in English, Literature, Journalism, Mass Communications, or Law are also good choices. Try not to compromise in this area. There’s nothing more irritating to a reader than mistakes in a book and it spoils the flow and turns them off. It also resembles too much of a cheap self-published title for readers to recommend to others.

* Get an ISBN number (whatever that is) if it is not included in the overall price of the POD publisher’s package. The ISBN number is your book’s registration number similar to a car’s registration. It is also used by bookstores in the barcodes to track inventory and order your book. (see "How to get an ISBN and barcode") This may cost you a few dollars but if you are determine to spend nothing, you can still sell e-books with your own website or some third-party sites (like e-bay) without having an ISBN.

* Design your own cover. Some online publisher’s provide cover design tools for free as part of the uploading process. The covers won't look great but at least it's free.You can attempt to design your own if you are proficient with software like Adobe Photoshop, Illustrator or InDesign. Many internet websites offer free stock pictures or graphics you can download and use. Be sure to check their licensing policies first. Designing book covers require appropriate software and technical knowledge on printing requirements. If you don’t know how you can also source for freelancers or design students who are willing to do it for free by crediting them in the book and giving them some free copies for their portfolio.

* Search the Internet for POD and e-book publishers and research their offerings to determine which one is right for you. BookSurge, Lulu and iUniverse are the largest companies providing self-publishing and each offers various services. Lulu is a free service and you can choose to pay for your ISBN number, promotional package and the printing price of each book ordered. For more choices, check out this website: An Incomplete Guide to Print on Demand Publishers . You can also try free online e-shop sites like Createspace.com and Cafepress.com

* Prepare your manuscript and cover files in the right format. Some publishers require the manuscript to be in Adobe PDF format. I recommend Primo PDF which you can download and install for free. Others require a simple word document. Read the requirements online carefully first. You can always ask friends for a favour and use their computers with the right software if you don’t have it.

* Follow the instructions online carefully and check your book after uploading to make sure it turns out right. Order a copy yourself to see how it looks like for a customer who purchases it. If you’re really hard up for cash, get your family or friends to order a copy and have a look at how it turned out.

* Promote your book by setting up free websites or blogs where you can spread awareness, gather a fan base, or post excerpts. Circulate emails to your friends. Join the numerous writers’ groups and forums online, post notices, and build up a support network. You can also request for author talks in public libraries and bookstores. (That was how Christopher Paolini did it with “Eragon” at the age of 16!)

Tips & Warnings
Different online publishers have different royalty and fees, as well as terms and conditions over distribution rights. MAKE sure you read their policies carefully.

Stick to the large and well known ones. There are many dodgy folks out there prying on dreamy aspiring writers who are to eager to see their works published!

Never order a large number of books until you have proof read the first copy.

Don’t expect your book to start sell by itself. The most difficult aspect of the book business is marketing!

Also,

Finding a literary agent and getting published by a publisher is a very long and painstaking process for most aspiring authors. From the time you complete your manuscript, expect it to take a year or more before you finally land a publishing deal. It might take another year or so for the book to go to print while the publisher edits and prepares your book for publication. Most big publishers also have a long pipeline of books waiting to be released into the market and you'll have to get in queue even if your book is accepted. Add some more months while the book goes from printer to distributor to finally being placed on bookshelves in stores, most first time authors find that it is years before they see their book finally being sold. That is, if you manage to land a publishing deal in the first place. Trying to be a published author is like trying to be an actor; hundreds of thousands aspire but only a few make it.

My dad was right.

Still, that doesn't mean I'm not going to try and make it. I'll be one of the few, or die trying.

Tuesday today. In three days time, I'll be waiting to receive my - omfg - A' Level results. Sorry to start off this post with such doom and gloom. Just need to get it out of the way before getting started on the nicer stuff. All I can say is, if I don't get AAB for my H2s, A for my GP and at least pass my H1, I am most certainly screwed.

Alright. Shall stop thinking about it; shall talk about something else. I'm postponing thinking about results until Friday itself.

So for the past couple of weekends, I've been working at the voucher-redemption counter at the Men's Department in Isetan Scotts, opposite Fred Perry (which has now become hotter and hotter to me the more I look at it) and Agnes B (which still hasn't and still looks gay, I'm sorry). I have frigging fallen in love with this bag at Fred Perry. But it's $699. I'm sorry, hot or not, I feel that no bag is worth that much.

For the first week, there was this Hot Holidays Happenings sale, where Isetan vouchers could be redeemed if members used their Isetan Privilege Card. And an additional 10% rebate on every $100 spent on golf items using your HSBC card. It's a promotion for the HSBC Women's Championship, after all. And Jazlyn and I have to help those rich-ass people redeem their vouchers. And let me just say that some of these people are seriously rich. They can spend up to $17,000 on a SINGLE receipt (goodness only knows what they could possibly have bought that amounted to that much), and come back again the next week with more supposed steals.

It can be boring at work, especially because the job is pretty darn easy (just sitting there waiting for people to come redeem their vouchers and recording their receipt numbers, etc), and I've heard the CD repeat itself over and over again. Now, 'Burnin Up' by the ever-annoying JoBros, 'So What' by Pink and (my favourite on the CD) 'Love Story' by Taylor Swift all remind me of work.

At least I have Jazlyn. I swear I have never talked so much to someone in my life. It came to the point where I was almost getting sick of my own voice. Goodness knows how SHE feels. Haha.

So we got past the initial awkwardness and thought, oh what the hell, if we're going to be stuck there with each other for nine days, eleven hours a day, we might as well do the thing we girls know best - talking. I wouldn't call it gossiping, really, because we talk about books and boys and movies and songs and school and prom and JENSEN ACKLES (okay, that comes under boys)...

So now, Jazlyn's the only one who knows the most about all the stories I have ever written. And not only that, she discussed the routes my current story, Bedful of Moonlight, can possibly take. So we spent hours brainstorming and me narrating my story and she listening. If you're reading this, Jazlyn, I just want to say a HUGE THANK YOU to you. Thank you for listening to me ramble on about my babies, thank you for asking me so many questions about my characters, thank you for throwing out suggestions and ideas and being frank with me about your view on my stories without being too offensive (it must be a skill). IF I ever get published, you'll be top on my acknowledgements list.

Raining now. Gotta wait till later to swim, so I'm watching my Supernatural Season 3 DVD right now (WHEEE!), marvelling the HOTNESS that is Sam&Dean (but Dean's still hotter, even though Sam has a cute smile).

Oh, and Kris from the Amazing Race is EFFIN HOTNESS. Seriously, they had to load up like super-heavy stuff onto a cart in Romania in yesterday's episode, and I totally got to see those arm muscles, not to mention the shoulder muscles too through that dark blue t-shirt he had on. YUM MAJOR. Amanda (his gf of three years) is one lucky girl. She reminds me of Hayden Panettiere, seriously, all blonde and perky and sunshiney. Very pretty. That might be why they're the team I'm rooting for, apart from Tammy and Victor (even though Victor's a real annoying chauvinist).

And Kris Allen from this season's American Idol got through to the Top 12! Woohoo! Krises of the world rock! Kris is so chill and modest, even though he's pretty darn talented. I mean, who can perform so well with a Michael Jackson song? Some other guy did it and he got voted out. It's not easy, man. And Kris nailed it. My dad also likes Adam Lambert. I'm okay with him, except his stupid punk look. His vocal range is INSANE, but he needs to remove that eyeliner and straighten up his lame-ass hair and stop wearing all that black and leather. He can actually be kinda cute. And Randy, HE DOES NOT HAVE ROBERT PATTINSON IN HIM. Rob's brand of singing is SO UNLIKE Adam's, come on. You're just saying that to get the girls crazy (and they DID go crazy).

Anyway. I've had my nuts for this morning (YUM), and now I'm going back to my Supernatural.

Btw, I'm going to start promoting my stories on this blog. So maybe I should learn from that guy who appeared in the papers the other day, who paid each person $2 - $5 for getting the word out. He's published like 4000 books so far. It's not much, but it's a start. Anyone know anything about all this PR stuff?

But then again, no one will be interested in helping. Just look at the response to my story so far, right?

Whatever. Supernatural now.

I know most of you reading this may not care. But - I'M DONE WITH MY NOVEL!!! I'M DONE I'M DONE I'M DONE!!!! OMFG. All 318 pages of it. Done. Finito.

All those days of replaying River Flows in You by Yiruma and Runaway World by Making April over and over again, and agonising over how best to move the story forward without making it all seem too cliched. All those days cooped up at home in front of my Word Processor. All those moments of joy and exhilaration when I actually felt proud of myself for writing this story. All those moments of self-doubt, too, when I felt I was wasting my time working so hard on something no-one cares about, much less read. All those days of losing myself in the world I have created.

Done. Over.

Strangely, I feel more depressed than I am satisfied. Don't get me wrong, I feel really accomplished and all, but it's still kind of sad, to see your novel come to an end. I don't intend to write a sequel to Lilies (that is, When the Lilies Turn Orange) because then it'll be too draggy. Connell's problem is solved, and the characters have come to a resolution. I don't wanna create a tension for the sake of it, you know?

I wonder if that's how first-time novelists feel when they come to the end of their debut novel. Well, technically speaking, Lilies isn't my debut. High Grounds is (in fact, there were a couple more stories that came before High Grounds, but they were so amateurish I don't regard them as debuts, more like 'trial novels'). But High Grounds never felt like the end to me, maybe because I always intended to write a sequel, so it's not like the world (the setting for the story) has ended, like it feels as though it has for Lilies.

I've been spending my morning scouting for literary agents. And I found one who does email queries. They'll reply in 5 to 10 days, they promise. Nelson Agency seems reputable enough. It specialises in YA (young adult) fiction and romance, chick-lit, etc. So this seems like the right agency to go to. I've sent in my query to Kristin Nelson. I just hope she'll reply. Nothing screams rude more than someone who doesn't reply your query.

In the process of editing now. If anyone is interested in reading it, please email me at jcxw2590@yahoo.com.sg. I'll send you a copy of the manuscript. But please give feedback if you're going to read it. That's my only condition. Your help will be greatly appreciated.

I just discovered the beauty of haikus (a poetic artform with 3 lines, 5-7-5 syllables). Brevity is the soul of wit, like they say, and this is so true for haikus. They force you to make every word count, and that's good practice for someone like me, who wastes words like they're mine for the taking. I need to learn to appreciate the value of each word, and what better way to do so than to write haikus, yeah?

Amongst shadowed trees,
Blackened branches claw for light,
Reaching for daybreak.

I came up with this one this morning, when my dad fetched me to school. The road leading to the front gate of SAJC is really beautiful, all winding lonely lanes lined with trees. And you should see it on a rainy morning. SO FRIGGIN DRAMATIC. So Edgar Allan Poe.

Here's another one I penned during Econs lecture. It's kinda unrefined; that's cos of the distraction (in the form of the lecturer)...

Hold my gaze
A little longer,
A pause of heartbeat -
But I watch
Your back retreat.

Obviously, this isn't a haiku. Just some random crap I came up with.

Ripples fluttering,
A gentle storm takes over;
Crisp dew dapples
The waking earth.

I feckin love haikus :)

Got a couple more poems (not mine) that I'd like to share. They're so lovely.

Love Song to No One
Butterfly Box

I've decided I'll post my works up here, cos this is my blog, and it's supposed to contain everything about me. So if I posted my works elsewhere, like on WritersCafe, this blog would be somehow incomplete. But I'll still be posting my stuff up on WritersCafe.

So I just came up with this, when I'm totally supposed to be working on my GP essay. OMG. INEEDTOSTUDY. 3 MORE WEEKS TO BT2!!!

Anyway, I was kinda emo-ing a little, so the imagery in this poem is not as chipper as you'd probably prefer. So here it is: The Closed Sign

Three Minutes by Amber Dinquel, Age 15
Three minutes
could mean a life time
Three minutes
is a dance, you've waited a lifetime for
Three minutes
is a kiss, passionate and slow
Three minutes
is a love song
Three minutes
is all it takes to break some one's heart
Three minutes was all it took
To make me fall in love with you

I so love this one.

Just came back from the Writer's Ink 12-hr Competition in school. It was from 8.30pm last night to 8.30am this morning, and I hardly caught a wink. Spent the entire night up writing two prose: 'The Best Disguises' and 'Angels Calling'. We were supposed to incorporate the clues they provided into our writing, which made it really tough, because the clues were like, so depressing (there were two movie clips that were like war films, where laundry of the dead soldiers in WW2 were uncollected and the soldier that survived had to collect it for them, and where this weird crazy artist was imagining himself in 'strawberry fields' which were actually representative of bombs and bloodshed during wartime. And then, there was the first clue, which we had to fish out of a bag and I got a toy car - ?! - and the last clue was the easiest - thank gdns - being a song by Day the The Fair about heartbreak: Thanks for the Christmases you made and murdered for me).

It was the first time I have EVER stayed up the entire night - through to the next morning - without sleeping! And I spent the whole night up WRITING. Yeahman. That's the part that rocked. The world looks so different when it's alseep. I especially love the 5am to 6am period, when the day is slowly waking and the smell of possibilities linger in the air like damp morning vapour, but the world isn't quite awake yet and everything's still quiet. Yeah, I guess I'm more of a morning person. I just love the freshness of a new day and the infinite opportunities and promises it brings.

Anyway, many thanks to Writer's Ink for organising this camp, though to improve it even more, maybe next time you could add a sharing session (on publishing and writing) in the itinerary? Special thanks to Kellyn, Gayathiri and Amillin (they're like ze star GP students in SA for our batch, btw) for all the help and friendliness. Oh, and thanks to Mrs Claudine Tan too, who oversaw this whole event, and went and got pizza, chocolates, grapes, biscuits and all that for our supper last night.

Had I known there was such a thing as Writer's Ink in SA, I would DEFINITELY have joined it. Stupidstupidstupid! How could I be so oblivious and uninitiated?!?!?!?!?! Now it's too darn late. They even have a newsletter published (this year's is the pilot batch for Writer's), and it's really good. It's printed on good quality material, and the whole getup is really professional-looking, and the works in there are really good too. If only I'd joined, then I could see my work published too.


But ohwells. No use crying over smudged mascara.

Anyway, thanks once again to Writer's Ink 2008 :)

I'm so fucking sick of caring.

468 calories from 3 scoops of Movenpick Hazelnut ice-cream, 525 calories from a lunch of bread and scones, 486 calories from a breakfast of pizza?

Fuck it all. Fuck calories, dress sizes, flat tummies, skinny thighs, sharp noses. Outgoing, athletic, bronzed and confidently cool? That's something I never will be. I'l always be ugly, stumpy and miserable: a pinched-faced girl with an over-the-top obsession with calories, fats and her appearance.

I stopped on the weighing scale just now a while after ingesting all that ice-cream, cajoling the needle to go up further. Come on, I thought, I know you want to creep higher....

It's either that I've gone crazy (talking to a weighing scale needle), or that this weight thing has really gotten to my head. Either way, it means I'm pathetic.

I don't know when exactly I'm in control. When I don't eat, I'm said to be out of control, 'controlled by this diet of yours'. When I DO eat, I feel like I've lost control, because half the time, I eat because I FEEL like it, and not because I'm really hungry. I'm greedy; I'm a glutton who can't restrain herlsef. Place a tub of ice-cream before me and I wolf it down before you can get your spoon; make me walk by a bakery and I emerge with 2 raisin scones, 1 pita bread, and 1 multigrain roll for lunch; get my mind fixated on a craving like pizza and I stay up for two hours, insomniac, because I'm so excited about eating it the next day.

Oh, I know. By now, you must be thinking how pathetic I am.

It's okay. I know I'm pathetic. I think I'm pathetic. To the extent that I think I hate myself.

How is it that some girls can stand in front of the mirror, look at their bodies and shrug at their love handles, the pudge at their tummies, and their thighs glued to each other? How is it that they can find it within themselves to love themselves the way they are, when they know perfection is out there, already achieved by a slight minority? They say perfection does not exist, but hello, open your fucking eyes: Gisele Bundchen, Heidi Klum, Angelina Jolie, Jessica Alba, Cameron Diaz....

If these people can look so fucking good, why can't I? In what way am I lesser than them? In that they love themselves more than I appreciate myself?

It'll be 2008 soon in about half an hour's time. I don't see what's so great about it. Sure, this year I've got a lot to be thankful for:

* LIST OF THINGS I'M THANKFUL FOR IN 2007:

1. That everyone I love is alive and safe.

2. That they're still around me.

3. That my grades - though not fantastic and still needs some polishing up - are decent enough.

4. That I'm safe and alive.

5. That I just got to do some major shopping for CNY next year and have amassed four sets of clothes from Mango and Esprit combined.

6. That my country is prosperous and brimming with the potential that's about to be tapped by capable, clean and far-sighted leaders.

But. There's always a 'but', isn't there? We just always seem to want some more. Contentment is never our middle name - not even our friend - and there is always something that can be improved upon:

* LIST OF WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN BETTER ABOUT 2007:

1. When the hell did I stop loving myself and made myself punish me for having ice-cream?

2. School. It is said that by raising your expectations or lowering your reality, your happiness quotient falls. Self explanatory.

3. Either I'm becoming more attention-seeking, or people can't be bothered with whiny, miserable, pathetic me anymore. During this year-end holidays, I went out alone six times without any company. Everyone's just too busy, aren't they. They always are.

* WHAT I NEED TO DO FROM 12AM ONWARDS:

1. Show my love for those I love. Leave them in no doubt that I love them. (Never mind if they don't always seem to reciprocate.)

2. Be happier. This is tougher than it sounds. Because this then leads to the next question: what exactly makes me happy? And part (b): when do I realise I'm happy?

3. Say 'fuck yourself' to the next person who comments on my weight, shape, figure, appearance - my inadequacies, in general. You wanna criticise me, take a good fucking look at yourself fist. Besides, who gave you the right to comment about me? I sure didn't. So shut the hell up. I get enough grieve from myself.

4. Be friendlier. People - too many of them - say (or think; they might not articulate it, but I can tell by the way they behave around me) that I look, or maybe behave too standoffish. Look, I don't go around with an inane smile permanently plastered to my face, okay? What's there to smile at, too? This world is so screwed up, it makes it hard to smile upon request.

But, that's just the ice-queen in me talking again, I suppose. Guilty.

5. Have more discipline, for fuck's sake. That means in terms of diet (stop eating when you're full, even if the food looks really good; stuffing your fat face with another gratuitous serving of food just makes you seem more like the loser that you already are), exercise, studies and money. Just about in every aspect, in other words. I hate doling out punishment - or worse, making excuses - for myself. So to prevent that from even happening, I should stop at the stage BEFORE: the stage when I decide to indulge.

I shall ask myself if I DESERVE it.

DESERVE. It's simple enough to tell yourself you deserve another scone. Hey, I just burnt a few hundred calories from that power-walk around town! It's easy enough to allow yourself to treat you to a chocolate bar. Come on, I just went five hours without fuel man!

But to deserve something, don't we then deserve the punishment that comes from it? Nothing comes for nothing, after all. Or is this yet another chicken-and-egg conundrum?

The trick is to fall into a routine existence. I don't - won't - have that ice-cream becasue I generally do not indulge in such high-fat foods after a meal, or worse: in between my meals.

Willpower is elusive. The trick is to capture it, and then slip it right into your existence to make sure it never slips away again.

5. Work hard. I have an IQ of 127 (from the online quiz I took yesterday night). If I don't make use of it, there's pretty much nothing else that I CAN actually do to make me feel like I am worthy of my existence, that I'm worthy of a place on this earth, in the hearts of those who love me (even if the number might be kind of small).

6. Be better?

What IS better?

It seems like I'm entering 2008 just as clueless as I have been in 2007.

Do I sound ungrateful, because I don't mean to be a party-pooper.

But do pardon me for not being so chipper at the moment. Seems like the endorphins from the ice-cream aren't doing their job: they seem to be causing a reverse effect on me.

Have a fulfilling 2008.

Okay. You have no idea how guilty I'm feeling right now. Because guess what. For all that discipline and self-control I've tried to carve into my thick, greedy, gluttony, numbskull, I almost cleared half a mega-tub of hazelnut ice-cream from Movenpick yesterday and today. So all in all, yesterday and today combined, I've scarved down about four scoops of ice-cream.

Plus, I had three slices of thin-crust Hawaiian pizza from Delifrance (it sucks; don't ever try it - oh wait, try it, then you'll waste the 8 bucks I did and I'll feel less bad about it. The cheese was overgrilled, and mozarella-who? I could hardly taste any sign of it) at noon, a charsiew pau in the morning, and after the pizza, I decided to 'treat' myself to a curry puff from Old Chang Kee (after deprivation from it for over a year), which turned out to be a REAL mistake, because then, afterwards, I went on to buy a walnut-raisin muffin from Rocky Master at PS. Shoulda eaten the pizza from there. For one thing, it was smaller. And for another, it was cheaper than Delifrance's. And as yet another plus, it looked more appetising too.

And then, my eldest aunt swung by in the evening. With lotsa gifts and goodies on her sleigh as usual. She gave me this Nike bag, some sports bras, some tee-shirts, a pair of Le Coq Sportif track pants, a really nice diary (dunno where she gets them; they're really exquisite), a Nike cap and tank top and a bagful of cosmetics (skincare products).

Plus, of course - the darn ice-cream. Pistachio and Hazelnut. Two tubfuls of sinful indulgences taunting me, beckoning, to taste them. Well, the pistachio sucked. I never liked pistachio ice-cream (though I love the nut); it tastes like puke. But the hazelnut's my Achilles' heel. If I can even be called Achilles. I'm sure the Greek hero of the Trojan War had WAAAAAY more self-control than I did. Or do.

It said 9 grams of fat, 17 grams of carbo and about 500 milligrams of sodium. I bet they're lying. How can that entire tub of ICE-CREAM (aka, sugar overload) filled with NUTS (omega-3 fatty acid overload) contain only 9 grams of fat?!?! It doesn't make any sense! Not that I'm complaining, of course. I very much wish that were true, but come on, even though they used skimmed milk and all that, I highly doubt there's only 9 grams of lipids in it.

I told myself yesterday was a once-in-a-VERY-darn-blue-moon treat, and that I would have to pay for all that I've ingested yesterday in the next few months to come. But oh no. Look what I've done today. Gone ahead and wolfed down another two generous helpings of ice-cream. I'm just lying to myself, man, consoling myself. I don't deserve to be consoled, or treated. I deserve to be punished for losing control like that. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?! Why am I such a sucker for high-calorie foods?!?!

Okay, you know what. For the whole of the next schoolyear, this is my meal plan:

- Morning (6.30 am): 1 bowl of whole-wheat cereal with low-fat milk OR 1 cup of yoghurt and a piece of fruit (on mornings where there's no PE).

- Mid-morning (9.30 - 10 am): fruits.

- Noon (12 - 1 pm): 1 wholemeal sandwich OR an omelette with salad and beans.

Then after school, I either walk home, or hit the gym for some cardio workout, or head home straight for circuit training.

- Dinner: fruits OR vegetables that my grandmother has cooked (and maybe SOME fish).

I read from some magazine that naturally slim people are creatures of habit, ie. their meal patterns are mostly fixed, and they HAVE SELF CONTROL.

Plus, it's alright to have a hearty breakfast.

And the more you weigh, and the more muscles you have, the higher your metabolism.

And consuming proteins raises the metabolism as it takes more energy to digest them.

Also, carbs create the feeling of satiety so we feel full and our appetites (ie, cravings for high-fat food) will be curbed.

And guess what:

- 5 pretzels only contain 114calories and 1g of fat.

- 20 baked tortilla chips: 110 calories and 1g of fat.

- 1 slice of raisin bread: 88cal, 1g fat.

- 20 choc-coated raisins: 78cal, 3g fat.

I sound like I'm consoling myself, don't I. Gawd, I feel like such a loser. How pathetic. I'm not eating to live; I'm living to eat. Am I being controlled by food? It kinda sounds like I am.

Anyway. GIRLS, THERE'S A NEW HOTTIE THAT I JUST DISCOVERED AFTER WATCHING ELLA ENCHANTED YESTERDAY NIGHT!

Yup, HUGH DARCY! He's dating Claire Danes. What a perfect match. She's so pretty and he's so cute; they make a complementary pair. Damn, it's like the more I watched him play Prince Char, the cuter I found him. I totally whizzed off to Google him after the show was over. And you know, from some angles, he kinda looks like Orlando Bloom. And from another, he resembles Hugh Jackman.

But you know what? He's 32! That's even more ancient than Bloom.

But damn, he's cute!

Plus, Anne Hathaway's really beautiful. She's got a great singing voice, talking voice, lovely smile, AND she's tall with a great complexion and large almond eyes, a sharp nose and luscious lips (except her mouth's a lil too wide). How unfair.

OH AND BY THE WAY, GUESSWHATGUESSWHATGUESSWHAT?!?!?!

I was at Borders today and I saw the BOOK: Supernatural! Yeah, HarperCollins has published books based on 'the hit TV series'. With DEAN and Sam Winchester on the cover, no less! SCREAM MAJOR! I totally bagged them. 34 bucks gone. But that's okay. I used my own savings, you know, so it's not like I'm wasting my dad's money. I won't even use the word waste. More like spend. There's a difference. 'Waste' is less redemptive than 'spend'.

Anyway. Can they PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. Come out with the Supernatural Season 2 DVD already! It's been released in the US since Sept 11, and I've been WAITING, PINING, since then. It's been more than three whole feckin months, people! Stop torturing me! I'm torturing myself enough!

Had a good workout at the gym ytd. Clocked 4km worth of jogging (2.4km in 14.10mins at 10km/h), brisk-walking (0.8km at 6.5km/h) and running (0.4km at 11km/h). Then did 10 minutes of cycling at 21.5km/h. Fruits for dnr.

Been following a healthy-diet regime. The only time I slipped since Monday, when I first embarked on this regime was yesterday, when I lost control and decided to permit myself a mini kitkat bar before going for gym.

But other than that, I've been eating a crapload of fruits and veg, wholemeal bread, cereal and yoghurt.

Anyway, I read online that a female stops having her period when her body fat is below 10%. The healthy percentage of body fat she should have in her is 15% to 23%. Well, I suppose that means I need some more fats, since I've stopped having my period since before I can remember. Sometime around ......... August or September, perhaps?

Anyway, on a different note, I've decided to go back to working on High Grounds. Just do some last form of editing before I publish it on WritersCafe. Been receiving some positive feedback on When the Lilies Turn Orange, which is truly gratifying, but it's still kind of primitive. Needs some more touchup on some details.

Damn, upon reading High Grounds again, I realised how much I've missed it. It was two days ago, when I heard Believe Me, by Fort Minor. It was a 2005 song, and it kind of brought me back to my sec 3 days. Man, remember those times? When we were all still new to the class and made a hell lotta noise and drove those teachers insane (Ng TC loved us, though :p). And my plot for High Grounds was still in the primary stage, developing. And I spent the year-end hols just working working working on it everyday, 9am to about 6pm, not caring about anything except how to get the story moving and developing the characters to their max....

And, snapping back to reality, only two weeks more to go before school reopens for J2 year.