LIFE IS A FUCKING JOKE

Yes. Writing is SUPER EASY. All I need is to sit my ass in front of the screen and it will just come to me. I don't even need silence, I don't need to focus, I don't even need to feel or to think. I don't even need to write immediately when inspiration strikes because those ideas, those moods and the atmosphere will return in a snap when I actually do get to write. You're right. I can do my JOB when it's convenient for you. #sarcastichandraised

Cats, Knitting and DreamWalkers playlist.

I found these two in my backyard, seems someone dump them. I'm worried about the my ability to take care of them since they're so young so I'm thinking of sending them off to my brother and his pack of cats. I think they're about a month old, I'm giving them milk and prepare them for soft foods. 

They're actually quite well-behaved. They don't mewl much unless they're hungry and left alone, the bigger one (I haven't named them yet) likes to chew stuff but they don't pee and poop everywhere but their box so I'm pleased with the babies.

Besides, since they are kittens, they still sleep a lot.

I finally taught myself arm-knitting and made this, an infinity scarf, on my first attempt (admittedly I had to re-do the damn thing three times. It was exhausting though and now I'm all out of yarn. It's still messy though, embarrassingly so. Still, it's gorgeous and warm and I'm quite proud I stuck to it. 

What is arm-knitting? This is armknitting. 

Trust me, it's not for the faint-hearted. My shoulders and back are killing me and it took a lot out of me. You should also make sure you go to the bathroom before you do this because the yarns will be attached to your arms. Of course if you do really need to go you would have to bring the yarns with you (since I was using four yarns, that was kind of hard to do. XD

I'm planning to do a DreamWalker playlist. Quite excited about this. I'm a nerd. So?

Funny.

Yesterday, people actually commented twice on how silent I move.

I wonder what that was about?

Is it done out of an unconscious desire to be left alone, a self-defensive manuver so I don't attract to much attention?

Is it the fact that I spent years of dancing on the balls of my feet? Or because I've been fat most of my life and I'm very aware of every creak and stomp that would draw people to the size of my body?

Weird.

Dear Friends,

"We're too old to surround ourselves with bad energy." was what I told a friend of mine who was having trouble with his friend.

And though I still maintain that thought, I wondered whether I was too callous.

When we were kids we practically did everything to get and keep a friend. We want people to like us and want to be with us and often times we do stupid things because of it. Peer pressure after all is a result of a strong desire to fit in.

But as we grow older, we tend to get more choosier about who we surround ourselves with, I guess it's because we know now that not all type of friendships are good eventhough they start that way. We already met enough people to know the kind of person who are good for us and vice versa. 

Me, I like to befriend people who are individuals in their own right, people who do not cling and have a life of their own outside the friendship so I can hibernate in peace when I need to. 

My friends are usually blunt so we tend to not have any miscommunication, who are opened to deep thoughts and silliness at the same time, and, I am fortunate in my friends, generous with themselves (their time and affection).

Maybe it's because of that, that surety that I have because I know who my friends are, and  am secure in their friendship and my relationship with my friends that I can practically say to my friend 'cut them out of your life if all they bring is trouble".

It might be cold, it might be harsh, but you only live once and that life is short. Having bad people around you or people who make you feel bad makes it even shorter.

Dear Life

Hm...haven't been here in a while.

I just moved from one office to another and this office that I am in now has more privacy than the last one. Not to mention, I have more free time here.

Which is awesome.

And Meda has become the sacrifice since I took her space upstairs and she took mine downstairs.

Ha. Sorry, kid.

I've been...not great health-wise, other than that, I'm pretty good.

I'm sleeping well and eating well which is...

I haven't been writing though. And I haven't been dreaming either. Not that I can remember that is. There's always that sense that I did dream but the memory of it quickly disappears.

Meda and I haven't killed each other yet even though we live day in and day out with each other, there were friction as expected but we ignore it and move on.

I really need more time to write.

News on publishing, I've asked about the pre-order option but no news about that.

Man, publishing books take forever.

This song make me miss my mom

Today....no wait yesterday

...was my birthday.  Spent it working (I know, that's sad) and fasting because my birthday fell on Ramadhan. Had  great time breaking my fast though, we bbqed some chicken...I 

had plans on watching Pacific Rim but decided against it. Will watch it tomorrow with bro.

My thoughts on turning 30?

Absolutely nothing,as in I have no special thoughts about it like some people do. First of all due to  awexome Asian genes I  haven't changed much since I was 15. I also don't feel old. I'm still the person i am a day before so nothing special abt turning 30. * shrug*

Sure there are a few things that I had hoped I would have by now, but all in all life is pretty good so...no worries

Work. Not That Bad.

It's holiday today but I had to go to work since it was my turn to man the office when we have a break.

But of course, since it was a holiday the office wasn't so busy, I just had to answer a few calls, write a few things. Then I ate free cakes, watch a couple of movies and listened to music.

In short, it wasn't a bad day at the office.

In fact, it was a bit boring and I actually wanted to work because of it.

The ac and the non-work made me drowsy and all I wanted was to fall asleep.

Hadn't had time to write though. Bleh.

Have to go to work again tomorrow.

I don't know whether I should feel glad or peeved that I actually like my work and workplace. Especially since it's cutting down on my writing hours.

Friends Make Everything Better

Hey, I'm back.

In the last post I mentioned that I was sick, yeah, I was sick a few days after that. I was sick for a week. I am not kidding.

My eyes turned yellow, okay, and I couldn't even smell food without puking. But what really had me was the fatique. I was just so tired and sleepy all the time.

I'm better now though I still have to watch what I eat and how I sleep. And also about not stressing out.

So far so good, though I have a headache that lasted for two days. Ugh.

On publishing news, Stacey sent me the covers with higher resolutions and I've sent it to publisher. No news from them.

I was sort of demoralized by the illness and I was worried about work, and also because my laptop was broken...but yesterday, I turned it on without expecting for it to actually turned on but it did!

Laptop, healed thyself!

I think it refused to turned on when I was sick so I actually got some rest and now that I'm all better, it leaped into service. XD.

Anyway, my new niece arrived today in the afternoon. YEY!

My sister is dealing with her job interview.

Aaaaand, my mom isn't feeling to well.

Aaaaaaaaaaand....man, I need to carve me some writing time. Haven't written anything since the novella deal. 

OH, AND FINALLY RECEIVED MAIL FROM CC! It was pretty crumpled when it arrived but nothing a good frame couldn't fix. I hope. I AM SO IN LOVE WITH IT. And with the self-made key chain that came with it. And a letter. D'awwwww.

So,

So, watched Jack the Giant Slayer yesterday with my sisters

…and it was good. Surprisingly good. I didn’t really expect much from it but really, I enjoyed it.

Not to say that I didn’t have something to gripe about it. I can’t say anything about the CGI and etc because I have no knowledge of it, but I can talk about the plot.

Mainly, the plot about the princess. The thing is, it was emphasized that the princess wants an adventure, she wants to do something other than just being a princess, she wants to learn about her people, she wants to be seen as capable and not a delicate princess by her father. 

And that’s cool.

But then, it seems that all she got to do, is being saved. 

After, the writers and other characters (elmond and the other guard) said that she was capable (and she was when she was at the Giant’s territory, I understood why she didn’t go down but go up, and she marked her passage so she wouldn’t get lost, smarts, right there) but then…nothing. 

When the Giants finally destroyed the gates at almost end, I was SERIOUSLY HOPING that the one who wore the crown would be her, that she would finally showed (sure, by way of magic crown) her father, It would have been such a great moment for her.

I understand WHY Jack’s the one who wore the crown, but at the very least, give us a short second where Jack, understanding her, would give her the crown, but she refused and gave it to him, maybe in a sneaky thought that there was no way her father could refuse their hero as her lawfully wedded husband. AT LEAST THERE WOULD BE SOMETHING.

After all the “she is capable, she is strong”, at the end she is a princess who ran away from home, got caught by giants, rescued over and over again and married the GIANT SLAYER.

There, that would be it.

I mean I was kind of psyched with the scene where Jack said she looked beautiful when she was wearing armor. ARMOR and not some smansy dress, but even then the armor is a matching armor of her fathers. It was GOLD, and not a scratch on it, as if it was an accessory. 

I just wanted her to be MORE. 

Day 12: Mood Journal

I am sick. That is all.

Oh, and problems with editor is now fixed. It's all good now. Tuesday will have more news about the publishing of Touched: The Sword. I am doubtful that it will come out mid-Feb.

An old friend of mine messaged me telling me that his music album (that he has been working since forever) will hopefully be out the end of this month. He had knocked off 4 songs and has 6 songs to go over.

I'm really proud of him and he's really good too. He has a smooth, crooning and voice and his musicality isn't something to scoff at either. 

Here is a sample of what he does. This one is his cover of Maroon 5's Smooth Like Jagger (Latin Jazz Cover) which I really, really love. 

We often chat about how we suffer for our art, how we do it, why we do it, the reactions of people around us, the obstructions we get, the disappointments, the sweet success, and it wasn't a couple of months ago that we met for lunch and discussed about how he wanted to see me (who is still flushed from having signed a contract with a publisher) to gain some sort of momentum (and for me to whine about wanting to listen to his new songs (which I actually got to do)).

I think he just wanted to see that yeah, dreams really do come true.

And hey, it's funny that we have progress in the same month. LOL.

The thing with him is, that he was really a perfectionist, you know? And he's also very academic, and I've always thought of him as someone who'll get a steady office job. Of course, back at school he rapped and loved music but as usual teenagers do, oh, and he also played the piano (but it was something we all did as we grew up, go to madrasah (which I didn't), go be a scout (which I also didn't) and learn to play an instrument (which I did)), so it was a surprise for me when he suddenly played the guitar, SING and got a band.

We both want the same thing, you know, to have what we love as our job. We both know that we still have a long way to go but, we want that.

It's the light at the end of the tunnel. 

We met when we were 10 at a spelling bee. Become friends at highschool, talked and emailed through college and the occasional 'happy birthday' calls...and now we both urge each other on to reach our dreams.

Life is funny that way. 

Day 8: Mood Journal

General Mood: So Damn Sleepy

I haven't been sleeping the night through for four days because of baby-monkey. It refuses to sleep without being held. At least until if it manages to take off her blanket. 

Anyway, other news, I have tried to introduce cats to baby monkey and you can see how that goes through this pictures. 

(what is that thing near my human? Ignore it, maybe it will go away)

(I cannot believe it, it is still there. This will not be tolerated)

(This needs investigating. It is now on my human. The nerve.)

(I'll just lay here and wait until it is helpless)

(*hums* pink panther theme)

(TAIL! IT HAS A TAIL!!)

(CATCH TAIL!!)

And this is the end result!

Yes, this is my life. Joy. 

Day 7: Mood Journal

General Mood: Inquisitive

Not a lot happened today but for awesome food and finally naming the baby. Baby-monkey, I dubbed thee,  baby-Nala. 

Oh, and finally found a way to shut her up. Due to baby-monkeys always in a state of being held by their mother, my sister saw something from her friend's tweet about baby monkeys, we swaddled her with cloth like actual human-babies. And miraculously, baby-Nala immediately shuts up and feels safe, and comfortable and sleepy. 

YEY!

(ready for sleep)

Other than that, I am admiring how art can inspire art, how artists inspire other artists. For instance, there is a K-drama that I like right now called 'Flower Boy Next Door'. I know, the title sucks, but it is the latest installment of the Flower Boy series created by some cable show in South Korea. 

The concept is pretty simple but as the show progresses, the story shows depth and personality. 

Here is how the story goes. 

There lives a girl named Go Dok Mi who seals herself in her apartment, oh she goes out whenever necessity struck but really, really prefers not to. It's not a matter of laziness, it is a matter of fear. Her only window to the world is books and TV shows and, ha, the guy who lives next door.

The fact that she spies on the guy with binoculars should be sleazy and stalker-like but due to the character, it's more like sad and pathetic. And sad.

Anyway, through several misunderstandings and misconceptions, Dok Mi meets Enrique Geum, a genius computer game inventor who is everything Dok Mi isn't; self-assured, talkative, cheerful, in your face, personal space-challenged. 

Practically he is everything Dok Mi would hate. 

But the thing is, he has a knack for understanding her, even when Dok Mi doesn't say a word. In several sequences he practically reads her mind and she's freaked out by it.

But after a while we kind of see similarities between them, at how Dok Mi blocks the world outside by sealing herself inside her room, and how Enrique keeps the world at arms length by his optimism and cheerfulness.

I like how they make these two very different personalities find each other, slowly understand each other and how they find parallels inside their lives. 

I also like how the plot manages to put these little plot lines so both characters could read more into each other's lives; for instance, because Dok Mi is a copy writer/editor (?), she is assigned to edit Enrique's autobiography and because of it, Enrique manage to forcibly entrenched himself in her house and look over her stuff and making spot on deduction about her personality and by reading and editing his book, Dok Mi got a inside look of his brain. 

And between scenes, Dok Mi (who wants to be a writer) writes little snippets of ideas that summarizes the episode. 

It's really good and thoughtful. I like it so far. 

The side characters are also interesting and fleshed out, and because they all live in the same vicinity we kind of see how these people, who lives different lives, come together. 

And of course with TV series, MVs comes after. And I personally love these three because they show perfectly what the series is all about. 

Day 6: Mood Journal

General Mood: Frazzled

Still haven't managed to sleep the night through because baby-monkey is recovering, she was noisy and wanted to be held all the time (which is natural for her since baby monkeys spend most of their time hanging on to their mother's body) but since my cat wanted to sleep in my room, monkey could not go out.

Hence, I didn't manage to sleep very well. Currently have panda eyes. Strangely, I woke up early today and then took down laundry, fold laundry, fed cats, fed baby-monkey, fed bigger monkey, fed bro and sis, gave baby-monkey a bath, fed her again, put her to sleep (on top of me since she's so loud) while reading a book, and then fed cats, fed bro, fed baby-monkey again. 

Yeah, I didn't get to write at all. 

My mood is a lot better since yesterday in general I am left alone (but for baby-monkey) and since baby-monkey is healthy. 

Today could be worst I guess. 

Weird thing though, today I seemed to be on auto-pilot, my body moving to do things while my mind is at other places so when I remembered that I intend to do something turned out I already did. 

It's a sign that my mind is cramping and that I need some serious hours of writing time to exorcise the voices inside my head. 

Day 5: Mood Journal

General mood: Unsatisfied

I've been irritated all day and I hate being like this. Most of it is, I think, because I'm still caught with the whole unfairness of having to take care of the monkeys since they are not my pets anyway. Especially since because I have to take care of them, I have to neglect my cats. 

My cat usually sleeps with me but she doesn't like it that I have other animals in my room, most especially not now when she's pregnant. But baby monkey is still sick so I have to watch over her. It's not like anyone else would. 

And I didn't have much sleep last night because I had to check on baby monkey whether she's still breathing or not. 

I got a few pages of writing in but I know it's crap because people keep bothering me about the monkey. Which of course irritates me even more. 

And now because of everything, I have a stupid migraine. 

I also hate feeling angry at my two sisters because they don't know how to be responsible, but I don't want to always be lecturing or having to be curt at them, but that's just how I feel today. 

In short, today sucks. Hard. 

Day 3: Mood Journal

General Mood: Nothing special

I think I spent most of time sleeping today since I only went to bed like 3 in the morning, then was woken up by my mom at 9 to give the little monkey a bath and to clean out the closet for stuff that we're not using. Then I continued sleeping until around 1 where I showered, folded laundry, fed my cats, fed monkeys, ate, then made banana bread.

Then I had to cook for my sisters then I only had a small amount of time to write which I spent drawing while waiting for the bread to be ready.

Then I had to put my sisters to sleep. And now I'm finally here.

Anyways, made this sketch, inspired by Mey Yeng's poem The Hole and Hourglass, it's a quick sketch and it's not even finished yet but I thought I should put it here so at least I could show I had something done today. Procrastination is strong with me.

There's a hole in my chest

Where an hourglass sits perfectly

Watching tears fall in uniform drops

Going drip, drip, drip

Today, because of something that happened with a friend a couple of days ago got me thinking about privacy. I like my privacy, I LOVE my privacy. I like talking about myself (obviously) but not when it comes about personal stuff.

And I think because of it, it had restrained any curiosity I have about other people's life, even my friends. I always feel strange about why people want to know about other people's life, much less people that you don't actually know, like all those shows about celebrities? I'm like pssh, I'd rather read a book or watch a good movie.

And then I realize that this outlook I have about privacy is actually something that I have since I was a kid, and since I live in a small, close-knit, sheltered community that has everyone know about everyone, it kind of gives you the idea of how oblivious or some would say intentionally set apart I was from most people.

For instance, when my mother asks about my friend and who their parents are I'm like, "I dunno". And at that second I have this tone in my voice that would probably tell the one who are talking to me about of how completely ridiculous that question sounds to me. My logic was--and still is--I am friends with her/him...not their family. What interests me, what I like is him/her, not them. Those two things have no connection and they exists separately in my mind.

I have befriend people who I have known since kindergarten...and I STILL have no clue who their parents are (which, as I think back on it, is REALLY weird, since we are a REALLY close-knit group) or how many siblings they have.

And that kind of attitude is still relevant to how I connect with my friends now. Of course some of them wants me to meet their family and of course when that happens I try my best to be kind and polite. But even then, it's not like I want to suck up to the family but more like, okay, his/her family is important to them, my good relationship to his/her family is important to them so I will be on my best behavior.

My views on friendship is quite liberal, I think. Even now, I can count on one hand the people that I am friends with and interestingly enough, the closer I am, the lesser we talk when we are apart. Oh, we text, sure, but usually over random comments and never a 'conversation'.

But when we do get together, we usually hang out and can talk all day, still comfortable and at ease like we see each other every day.

I'm lucky in that way, that my friendships are with people that are confident in their relationships so they don't cling. Whenever I'm in my hibernation mode, they understand and they leave me well alone. It's awesome.

But, even then, there are some aspects to my views of friendship that seem peculiar to other people. For instance, when I met this one friend, our schedule clashed with her appointment to her doctor and she really needed to go to her doctor so, I'm like, "we should go". And she keeps apologizing to me like it's a problem and I'm like, "dude, chill. We were going to hang out, look, we're hanging out."

And she's like, "This is okay? I mean, don't you want to go somewhere?"

Me, "I'm here to see you."

And she has this look on this face that kind of gives me an inkling of how weird that sounds to her. I guess to her, a day with a friend is like going to the mall or somewhere where you can do stuff. To me, a day with a friend can be anywhere; a trip to the dentist, grocery shopping, sitting at home reading without even having to speak to each other.

To me friendship isn't about sharing your secrets or experiences or whatever, it is creating a quiet space inside your heart, inside your life for them to make a home in, for them to feel safe and not fear of rejection or ridicule.

It’s one of those nights.

My head is quiet; the night is calm, my bed is comfortable and I am surrounded by family in a house that is not just a clever design of bricks and glass, but a home.

But in my heart there is a gathering storm. 

It’s on nights like these that when I write, the words would crash across the page like ocean waves, leaving me awed and baffled when I reread it later.

On nights like these, feeling would ebb and flow between one word and the other. On nights like these, writing would not be about putting images that exists in the mind into words, no, on nights like these, writing would be like scraping my heart out of my chest, where it would beat, brilliantly crimson, between paragraphs.

It is on nights like these, that I would pull out every layer of feeling that is in me—agony, pain, joy, sadness, bitterness, loss, delight—and smear it across the page where everyone can see.

It is on night like these where I stare at empty pages and watch it fill regardless of what I want. 

It is on night like these where I do not think. I only feel.

About the Responsibility of Being A Writer

Writing comes naturally to me. I do it not only because I want to do it but because it’s something that well, just is to me.

It’s either that or spend days of walking around with a crowded brain, filled with characters and scenes and dialog rattling inside my head.

I do it to please myself.

But when I write, when I’m neck deep into a story, I don’t only think of pleasing myself, I think of pleasing my readers. Scenarios bloom inside my head and I write it down with thoughts of “If I was reading this book, I would want it to happen like this” and that works for me. And it also works for my readers.

It works because I write to share my story, not just to channel what I have in my mind. I want my readers to love my characters, to relate to them, to feel with them, to sympathize and empathize…so I sometimes don’t get other writers that just write whatever they want or people who defend themselves by saying, well, it’s my story. I can do whatever I want.

*shrug* but I guess, that’s their right. But they’re missing out on one of the greatest experience that a writer can have; connecting with their readers.

I felt pride and happiness if a reader claimed that she sighed when my character sighed, cried when my character cried, felt anger when my character was angry because what’s the damn point of telling a story that people won’t care about?

If they just read it for the sake of reading, they might as well read a textbook.

But, sometimes, being a writer or any other artist I suspect, have their burden. Certain responsibilities of what they put out into the world; some kind of message or symbolism that they convey through their art.

We, as the artist, may not meant to do so, but sometimes people latch on to the strangest things when they are troubled.

You might not think your work means something other than just a pretty, exciting thing but some people would think of it as something else.

One of my readers mentioned that one of my stories helped her out of a very difficult situation in her life, her brother had died in an accident and since the characters of my story was also dealing with a loss of a love one, she managed to relate to them and somehow, it helped her out.

I didn’t see how it could because the story was dealing with some dark emotions and my characters were falling apart every which way…but maybe, that was what helped her. Maybe sadness or grief was like a poisonous wound and you have to purge all the poison for the wound to finally heal. And reading about my characters being true to their grief, probably helped her out in voicing hers.

I’m glad I managed to do that for her.

I admit to a certain range of reluctance and anxiety that I managed to influence her life like that but, that’s what art is all about, right?

I also admit to a sudden attack of the conscious, I started thinking, “should I be more careful about what I write? Should I tone things down?” Then of course I shrug those thoughts away.

While it is true that art can influence people in a certain way, humans are not Pavlov dogs. They are not an empty vessel waiting to be filled with ideas and idiosyncrasies. They can think for themselves, decide for themselves, and pick and choose which idea suit them for the better.

I know. I know. Utterly naive, right?

But that is how I am. That was how I was raised. My parent’s didn’t do any parental control about what I watched. I watched Kung Fu movies since I could walk, scenes with violence and drugs (of course I didn’t understand what it was) and kick ass. My brothers killed and played warrior in video games.

And I had always known the difference between reality and games. So, if I could do it, why not other people?

So, with that thought, I stayed writing as I have. And it hasn’t failed me yet. Here’s to hoping it would never will.

Family Drama

It's official, I am moving out of this house. Just for the sake of my mental state.

It gets a little creepy sometimes because you go on about your life with them still inside your head and you look at the world and all of sudden you think in their mindset, how one character will deal with what is currently happening to you, what this character would say when they’re in your situation, how that character will solve this problem you’re having.

And sometimes you do it their way.

Sometimes you look at a shirt and think, ooh, that will look good on (name of character) as if they are a real person and sometimes you are more considerate of them than you are of your friends and family.

But then again, it’s good that the characters are real to you because if they don’t feel real to you then they won’t feel real for your readers and then what’s the point of you writing?

I guess, if you really think about it, of course your characters would feel real to you because in every single one of them, you put a piece of yourself inside them: maybe it’s your insecurities, maybe it’s your love for art, maybe it’s your sarcastic humor, maybe it’s that little girl inside of you, sometimes it’s your shame and your guilt and sadness and pain…and if you’re lucky you are able to make them rise above that. You are able to give them little victories, spots of happiness in an unfair world, watch them grow in both strength and spirit and feel—wow, this character is someone that I imagined, someone that I made up and they used to be so small, so ordinary but look at them now. It is through them that you see who you are, who you've become, how far you've traveled; that is a piece of me and it’s beaten the odds.

And you think that maybe, just maybe, you can do that, too.

Sometimes I just want to gather everyone of them and give them a big hug for making me feel so good about myself.

And yes, I do find writing therapeutic.