Nightmare

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Once again, I found myself digging through old files in search of an important document. In the process, I found this short little thing I came up with in high school. Thought I might as well share it.


I coax you in, deeper and deeper into an endless slumber, and slowly you emerge, out of thin air, into the space in front of me. I tense in anticipation at the confused and slightly frightened look in your eyes. I watch the bewilderment in your gaze freeze with horror at the sight of me.

You are terrified. You begin to run away, in a flurry of panic. But this is my territory, and this is my land. I can shift the ground beneath your feet, make you stumble, make you fall. This is my world, and you play by my rules.

I hear you screaming. I hear you crying. You are afraid, and that is understandable, but I could not care less. I do not need to chase after you, but if you dash, I will. Just the sight of me makes you faint, and that is good enough for me.

So you decide to run. A noble choice, but you simply cannot outsmart me. I can match your pace with one stride. You have a head start, and you run ahead, but I will catch up.

I am gaining on you. I am catching up to you. I play one last trick – I make something sprout from the ground. You trip. You come crashing to the ground. Luckily you cannot feel pain in my world.

I advance on you, and I see my reflection in your wide eyes – it is different now, than it was with the last person. Perhaps I was once a banshee, and before that I was a murderer, and the first time I was a ghost. But now I watch my reflection with fascination – it is something new and different each time.

I decide to quit wasting my time, and I pounce.

I land on the ground, crunching sickeningly against the world I created. You have slipped through my fingers again. You have escaped my grasp, you have escaped sleep. One day I really must learn what I am doing wrong, why I never catch you.

I am a figment of your imagination. I am not real. I am the most horrifying thing your brain could conceive.

I am your worst nightmare.

Thoughts

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As I type this, I know many people around the world are writing, reading, or pondering the same topic. Most posts like this will probably start out with how I heard the news, so I will follow that trend.

I was just getting on the bus to university this morning when my mom sent me a text message.

Robin Williams had passed away. 

I had a Speaking for Academic Purposes class first thing this morning. At one point, we were talking about world news. The discussion had been quite halting up to that point and not many people were contributing ideas or views. Then, from the back of the class, someone brought up Robin Williams’ passing. Almost rhetorically, my teacher asked, “Why is it that someone who makes other people laugh can suffer from depression?” 

The response was instantaneous. Everyone had their own individual views about why comedians tend to have to deal with depression. Everyone had something to say. I wonder what that means. I wonder why that is. Then again, I don’t really wonder. The amount of people who face depression today is simply startling. How many people sitting in that little classroom were going through the same thing that drove a man known for his comedic abilities to take his own life?

I know from personal experience how the brightest, funniest, most life-affirming people can be so incredibly sad in private. We never really know what’s going on behind the smiles on our acquaintances’ faces. We can’t tell how many of them are just putting up a front.

Anyway…

I think it’s time for me to dig up some old movies of his and rewatch them. A trip down memory lane sounds just about right, now. 

Strength

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I was digging through some old files in search of a document and I discovered this poem I wrote back in high school as an entry in the school magazine. I thought I’d share it because I probably won’t have time to write anything decent this week, and also because…well, why not?


Strength

I have the strength

to move mountains

to climb hills

and to cross rivers.

 

I have the strength

to stand up on my own

to get up after a fall

and to escape the deepest of trenches.

 

I have the strength

to claw to the surface

to find the light at the end of the tunnel

and to make it out of the dark.

 

I have the strength

to do whatever I set my mind to.

 

I have the strength.

It just took some time for me

to find it.


And don’t forget, you have that strength, too. 

The Perks Of Thinking Vividly (or, Why I Sometimes Think I Should Be In An Asylum)

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To avoid throwing you into complete disarray at the sudden wildness of the following post, some background probably need be provided. I have a very active imagination – the kind that automatically goes into full vision overdrive if you give me a graphic or not-so-graphic description. When you have a conversation with me on a normal basis, chances are everything you say is conjuring an image in my head, sometimes even multiple images in one go playing like a movie. My brain also has the habit of envisioning the most twisted and odd outcomes that could result from a certain circumstance. For example, you could say, “What if I trip and fall on the stage?” and my brain will instantly begin a series of images or even a fully connected video of what might possibly happen – like you flipping forward and into the microphone with the crappy wiring system and detaching it from its cables, causing it to catch a spark on the pristine white paper that you have prepared for your speech and setting the entire stage on fire (which will most possibly result in the speaker exploding, which will make the headmistress fly off the stage comically the way action villains do in movies) while you tumble headfirst down the steps and lay sprawled out on the tarred gravel beneath you, blood seeping out of your skull.

Just think of everything that could go wrong here.

Just think of everything that could go wrong here.

 

Creeped out yet?

Yeah I probably shared too much information there. You are more than welcome to report me to an insane asylum.

Which brings me back to the main point of this blog post.

Actually, this blog post has no main point. It is merely the fact that I’ve been shot a several odd stares and been given raised eyebrows every single time I express a less-than-ordinary opinion that has prompted me to write my thoughts down in an attempt to force them into organised submission. Because of course, we all know that’s totally going to work.

Maybe one day if I keep telling myself that it might actually work. Who knows?

The good thing is I only think this way if you suggest it by asking a question or making a statement, so usually I don’t imagine things that way. But chances are if you give me an innuendo I am going to envision it and then get scarred for life. So, just a warning. Also, if you describe a person to me by saying, “Oh, she’s insanely tall and has dark brown hair and she always wears a pair of bright blue spectacles”, I am probably going to imagine her in my own Roald Dahl-esque way and then get completely thrown off when I actually meet her in person.

A couple weeks back, while climbing some very flimsy looking metal stairs up to my Speaking class, my friend told me she was afraid that the stairs would collapse suddenly because of how rickety they seemed. While I had previously been thinking about coming up with a study plan for an assignment, I now vaguely began to wonder what would happen if the bolts on the sides of the stairs were to come apart. I then proceeded to enjoy a mini-movie in my head involving the steps slowly sliding downwards the way they only ever do in cartoons, and me starting to fall only to get stuck because there was physically no way I could possibly fit through any of those holes (yes, physics do matter in imaginary movies). I forgot about this very quickly but I had to climb those stairs again today, which reminded me of what happened last time I did, which made me ponder the way I think and imagine things, which then set off an entire train of thought that led to the creation of this blog post. Needless to say, without this extremely active imagination, I would never have any ideas regarding material to write, so I’m actually pretty thankful for it.

And everything that could go wrong here!

And everything that could go wrong here!

Reading to me is all-encompassing for this same reason – if I am riveted on a book, my eyes fixed sturdily on the pages, I am not going to hear you calling my name until you’ve violently grabbed me by the shoulders and shaken me roughly a few times. That’s because I’m lost in the world that the book has conjured for me. Every single character on paper is transformed into a real life person, and in my mind’s eye, I can feel and experience the world created in the book and even interact with it. Hence, I’m in a completely different dimension and it takes a bit of effort on your part to get me back into the current world again. I keep getting yelled at for this particular trait of mine – people think I’m honestly, legitimately trying to ignore them, which is really not my intention at all. Some of them have informed me that it’s simply not possible for me to not hear anything at all. Let me tell you that it’s perfectly possible. In fact, it happens to me almost every day. Unfortunately, this also makes me the ideal target for assassins. Oh well.

Personally, I love having an imagination that works so vividly. It makes everything a lot more interesting. I know someone whose thoughts tend to follow Final Destination type of train of thought, and whenever he voices his thoughts to me, I can always see them happening with insanely perfect clarity before my very eyes, like my own personal, private movie. Needless to say, I find any conversations with him very fulfilling – it’s like I have a constant stream of fascinating (albeit slightly grotesque) images and little clips to go through, which is always wonderful for someone who considers herself a writer. This same person also tends to mention his less-than-usual thoughts about everything to me quite often, and I absolutely love it. It’s like this really amazing source for constant entertainment and inspiration – which is one of the plus points of having an imagination that runs wild very easily. Also, with this type of mindset, it’s impossible to get bored. I literally am incapable of being bored. If I feel the drag starting to creep up on me, my brain automatically gives itself something to envision, just to occupy its time, and I disappear into my own little bubble, where I can make things happen however I want them to (I actually wrote a post fully describing what goes through my head during a boring class in a post entitled Wanderer, which you can read if you like. And yes, this is shameless self-promotion). This probably explains why The Secret Life Of Walter Mitty is one of my all-time favourite movies. Although I’m fairly certain I’m nowhere near as socially awkward as Walter (don’t quote me on that, though, because you will most likely have a different opinion if you were to ever meet me), I can definitely relate. This is why I began writing in the first place – to have somewhere to put all of these thoughts and situations I envision. Although thankfully very few of them result in stage-exploding tragedies.

Hey, did you guys know that if all oxygen on earth were to vanish for just a second, about twenty-one percent of air pressure would just disappear? You know what would happen then? Our inner ears would probably explode! Yes! Actually, scratch that, what does it matter if just our inner ears explode – all living cells would explode, period! (This has something to do with the fact that water, being made up of one third oxygen, would turn to hydrogen, and that would turn gaseous and expand heavily in volume. This also probably means all our oceans would just evaporate on the spot! And all the water in our bodies -that’s 70% of our body, kids! – will simply cease to exist! We would literally be withered, and…well…dead! So who cares about eardrums exploding when we’re all dead?) We would also all probably get a really horrible sunburn, since the ozone layer is mostly made up of oxygen. Also, metal objects would all immediately stick together because the only thing currently stopping them from melding is a layer of oxygen, which of course, would vanish and cause all metal things to fuse together. That means every single last metal object on Earth would stick together, forming an endless link of non-stop metal. I’m sure you think it sounds cool, but think of the person unlucky enough to be standing in between those metal objects -which is, essentially, everyone. I mean, that person would already be dead, but imagine if they weren’t. Also, because a lot of the Earth’s crust is oxygen, everything beneath our feet would just pretty much crumble because there would be a lot less to stand on. So right now, I’ve got the visual of a bunch of dead people with withered up, sunburned skin and blood oozing out of their ears stuck inside one single metal piece that goes all the way around the world as they fall into an abyss. You still with me?

Earth-exploding

Yeah…I’ll let myself out.

Raindrops, Clouds, And The Other Little Things In Life

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The movement of water over a polished, tiled floor always fascinated me as a child. With the naïve eagerness of innocence, I would sit cross-legged and wide-eyed, watching precariously as rivulets of smooth, clear liquid slid gently from one groove to the next, a tantalizingly slow trickle that weaved intricate patterns as it went along, leaving a glistening trail for my gaze to follow until it resolved into a single, shapeless puddle. I wasn’t certain, at the time, what so enraptured my attention about the steady progress of the water from meager droplets to a full-formed body. I don’t think I really wondered about why; I was just too riveted by the seemingly effortless grace that enabled something that started off small and unnoticeable to grow into something that could actually made an impact. The same went with watching raindrops on a windowsill. Whether it was on the panes of the old family car or against the glass of the windows attached to my room, I was hopelessly infatuated with water of any kind. My gaze would remain stuck on droplets as they chased each other rapidly down the windows, my kid-side silently rooting for “my favourite raindrop” to win until it rolled off the bottom of the glass and I picked another random droplet to cheer for. It was good fun, and the repetitive motion was soothing and relaxing to someone like me. It was one of the few times I would actually willingly sit still – when I was witnessing water travel.

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Eventually, I grew bored with watching water and turned my attention to homework and other more important things. I still “raced” raindrops when they pattered onto my window, but when my mom and I moved into an apartment where my room faced the hallways instead of the outside, that stopped as well. I don’t often tire of things, but for some reason, watching water ceased to hold any meaning for me as I grew older. I would skip over puddles instead of watching them grow and would irritatingly wipe droplets off of objects instead of joining in on their journeys. Perhaps it was because of my temperament. You see, I’m more of a fire person by nature, really. I’ve got an occasionally overly intense personality and a temper that threatens to blow up disastrously and has been likened to a very volatile volcano. When I get passionate about something, like a book or a topic of discussion, I get fiery and expressive about them. The same way, after a while, the fire sometimes burns out. I guess that’s sort of what happened with my interest in water – there was a spark, followed by a heated blaze, then it just sort of died down and fizzled out.

Accurate description of my temper.

Accurate description of my temper.

I sound a little like I’m romanticising the whole thing, but to me, the time I ceased to view water as anything more than a necessity for basic life and an occasional nuisance was the time I stopped appreciating the little things in life. We’re all guilty of that, in a way. We stop noticing the pigeons landing on the pavement, stop caring that if we squint just right that cotton-candy cloud looks uncannily like a cross between a dog and a clown, stop pausing at regular intervals to curiously reach out and touch a particularly vivid flower poking out of the hedge. Instead, we start walking around a lot faster than our legs have the capacity of carrying us, in consequence moving around far too fast for our eyes to fully register what’s going on around us. In the words of Sherlock Holmes, we see, but we do not observe. We give excuses like, “I’m far too busy”, “I’m in a bit of a hurry”, “I have work to do” – and then we bustle along away, completely missing everything around us, focused only on ourselves and the Very Important Work that we have to do as Very Important Adults. The childlike wonder we were born with, which makes us love everything in the world and become endlessly fascinated by all things even remotely new to our eyes and minds, dissipates, replaced instead by boredom and the need to act like Grown Ups and Responsible Adults. It’s not that we can’t see the beauty of everything around us, we just don’t. And that to me is something very upsetting.

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Personally, I have always been the kind of person who notices everything around me and gets distracted by it. This probably also explains why I am extremely clumsy. I am simply not capable of walking down a crowded shopping complex without overhearing a million different conversations, observing what people are wearing, or taking an unconscious survey of the number of people there alone, with family or with a partner. If a girl looks remotely annoyed that her boyfriend has his eyes on another girl in a skimpy outfit on the other side of the polished shopping mall floor, I will see it. If a boy attempts to sneak a couple of candies into his mothers black probably fake Prada bag, oblivious to the fact that a little girl sitting nearby has noticed and is giggling about it to her father, I will notice it from all the way across the shop, where I’m standing behind a stack of magazines. If a waiter’s watch flashes from his right hand three tables away, I will observe and draw the conclusion that he’s probably left handed. And yet, despite the fact that I see all these things on a daily basis and do not possess the ability to focus on only one thing at a time, I choose to ignore the things I see around me. It’s not a conscious decision at all – it’s just something that has been hammered into me. I don’t have time to stop and observe that the butterfly with blue wings has a pattern on them that looks almost like a cat. I am simply too busy. I have things to write and people to meet up with and assignments to get done and university to get to – I simply don’t have time for useless extra bits of attractive-looking information that will add virtually nothing to my general knowledge or do anything that will help with the test I have to sit for today.

Why do I think this way? Maybe it’s because time flies so fast that I feel I have to move even faster to keep up with it. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? Time flies, and life is so short. Granted, it’s the longest thing we’ll ever do, but when you really get to thinking about it, life is a painfully, frighteningly short thing. Think of all the beautiful things we miss on a daily basis when we dash by without so much as glancing at the world around us, all the sights and sounds and scents that our brain wants us to notice but we dismiss immediately as unimportant. That’s why I’ve made a pledge with myself. Despite the fact that I have a rapidly increasing workload and a lot of commuting back and forth to do, I will always make some time to stop and smell the roses – even literally, if I must, because roses are my favourite flower.

I’ve thought about this long and hard overnight (when I couldn’t sleep and just passed the time staring at the ceiling for several hours enshrouded in darkness), and I came to the realisation that it’s the smallest things in life that really make everything more fulfilling and wonderful: A genuine, honest smile from a stranger. Your favourite song playing on the radio and drawing to a close just as you pull into your parking spot at work. Taking that first sip of coffee in the mornings, or hot chocolate on a cold, rainy, lazy Sunday afternoon. Finding an extra five bucks in the pocket of that pair of jeans you haven’t worn for a month. When you wake up before your alarm rings catastrophically in the morning and can savour the glorious feeling of being able to go back to sleep again. Getting a curly fry in your order of regular fries. A sweet little text message that consists of no more than maybe ten words but still brings a smile to your face, even on the most stressful of days. What’s life, really, if we don’t enjoy the little things?

Anyone watch Zombieland?

Anyone watch Zombieland?

A few days ago, while I waited for the bus on a tiled pavement, it began to rain. Water fell into the grooves between the tiles and flowed slowly through the path paved for them. My eyes fell on them and a wave of nostalgia washed over me like a wave. I hesitated for a moment, then put down my social science textbook and drowned out all thoughts about homework. And just like that, I was back in my childhood days, surrounded by noise and bustling people but focused only on the slow travel of the water before me.

I think it’s because I finally realised that the things in life we tend to overlook are often the most beautiful.

Wanderer

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I am a wanderer by nature. My feet tend to unconsciously take my body places I did not originally intend to go, my heart aches for distant lands, my brain yearns for new sights to process and experiences to learn from. Anymore than my body and restless soul cannot be kept in one place, my mind and being cannot be kept grounded.

…which is why things like this tend to happen during a particularly uninteresting class.

In a monochrome, grey, air-conditioned room, my eyes may appear to rest upon the screen before me, indicating that I am attentive and present, but as a monotonous voice drones on, my gaze minutely averts, flicking around the whitewashed walls and noting the exact shade of the floor while my imagination, inevitably, begins to wander. I watch as swirls of yellow reminiscent of jasmines begin to creep upwards from the corners of the not-quite-white walls, filling the blankness with vibrant hues. The floor appears to begin to fissure, cracks surfacing against the papered cream floors, a violent orange threatening to burst from beneath the cement like molten lava. Images of starry skies filled with falling comets crashing down towards me start to form on the ceiling. As much as I try, I cannot control the directions my brain chooses to shoot off towards when held inactive for too long.

Longingly, I glance briefly out the window. My vision becomes enraptured by trees swaying gently in the breeze, an azure blue sky with just enough fluffy white cloud cover to promise a pleasantly warm (not sweltering hot) day outside. What I wouldn’t give to be basking in the golden glow of the sun instead of the glare of electronic white light! It would certainly be far more rewarding than wasting away seated in a cold, understated room where the musty scent of unwashed carpet, underused air-conditioning and damp walls mixes in with the lingering smell of metallic steel that is often associated with computers. Outside, just within my line of vision, someone saws down a tree growing right next to the windows of the library. It tumbles over, toppling far too fast, and crashes directly into the green-tinted glass panes beside it. There’s the too-loud tinkering of shattering glass, the screech of tables and chairs possibly being thrown askew, then silence.

I blink, and the destruction is gone – the tree is upright and sturdy as ever in its place, windows of the library untouched apart from the occasional gentle scrape of the tree’s branches against it. The person with the saw is nowhere in sight. Realistically speaking, I suppose it would be pretty difficult to cut down a tree with a manual saw. I shake my head and turn my attention back to the lesson at hand.

The clock on the wall ticks with a slow, determined rhythm, as if taunting me and reminding me that every moment I spend cooped up in this building is another moment that I’m away from the somewhat fresh air (“fresh” being the relative term here) I look forward to taking in almost every second of the day. As I stare at the second hand moving at its uniform, agonizingly slow pace, the hour hand begins to swivel in the opposite direction. My eyes widen minutely before I force them shut, knowing it’s just another illusion – my restless mind playing tricks on me. But this time, merely blinking does not chase away the relentless imagined vision playing before me like a strip of film that doesn’t fit with a movie reel. The hour hand swings dangerously fast, picking up speed and spiraling around the clock face until it is nothing but a bullet-like blur, racing past the other two hands and setting the clock’s face slowly ablaze until the plastic covering it shatters, sending all three hands shooting out of it with alarming accuracy right towards me -

I snap out of it as the teacher calls my name. Yes, what was it? What’s the answer to that question? Umm, it’s A, ma’am. Yes, I’m sure. Thank you, ma’am.

The crisis averted, I stare up at the ceiling once more, and this time, I do not even have to wait before dark, ominous thunderclouds appear high above me in place of the plaster and electronic lighting. Fiery hail is swiftly approaching from above, falling rapidly but with the same slow-motion melodrama one is always subjected to watching in B-grade disaster movies. A hailstone crashes through the already scarlet sky, slamming down with incredible force onto the wooden table before me. The stench of melting plastic and rusting metal hits my senses as ember begins to catch on the notebook that I’m messily taking notes with. I feel the heat rising around me, fumes assaulting my nostrils and flames beginning to engulf my body, prickling on my skin painfully, and -

Just like that, as suddenly as it arrived, the visual vanishes. It is just me, staring at a brightly-coloured Powerpoint presentation, desk and computer fully intact, bitingly cold air raising goosebumps on my flesh instead of fire. Class is over. Wordlessly, I pack my bag, sling it over my shoulder nonchalantly, stand up and start to walk away. As I leave, I cast a final glance sweepingly back over the room.

“What you looking at?” one of my friends asks me, only half-curious to know.

I shake my head to indicate that it’s nothing.

“Dude, how were you not falling asleep just now? I was, like, dying already. That class is so boring.”

I shrug. “I dunno. Got a lot to occupy me with, I guess.”

My friends stare at me, dumbfounded.

I look over my shoulder one more time at the room, and am just able to make out the lava sprouting out of the floor, the bright-yellow swirls on the walls, my flaming desk, the shattered clock face, and the ruined library in the distance. I smile reassuringly to my friends and close the door behind me with a final click.

They need never know.

A Whole New World

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I am more than aware that my last post was around two and a half years ago. I lost my muse right around that time and stopped being able to come up with new ideas every once in a while. My inspiration well sort of dried up. But beginning sometime in March, so many new ideas have been creeping up and pouncing on me that I just have to get them out and down somewhere.

But before I get into that, first thing’s first – where have I been?

Let’s begin with two words: existential crisis. If any of you guys watch danisnotonfire on YouTube, you’ll probably be able to understand instantly what I mean. I was forced into the Science Stream of my high school after achieving good results in a mid-high-school examination, and let it just be said that saying Science isn’t my thing is the understatement of the century. Don’t get me wrong, I love Maths (though that’s not really a Science subject though, is it?), and Biology was one of my favourite subjects (partially because I had a really good teacher), but I simply cannot picture myself doing anything related to the field for the rest of my life. I want to be a writer, and that’s all there is to it. At first I thought, hey, I’m interested in engineering, that’s as good a reason as any to enjoy being in the Science stream…well apparently not. I’m colour blind. Colour blind people really, really can’t do anything related to engineering, as I discovered.

And then I spiraled into a horrible cycle of questions such as what the hell am I doing with my life? and why am I even here? and other ridiculous things like that. So yes, I had no idea what I was doing and why I was doing it, and I just sort of found myself going through the motions and making the best of the situation. Looking back, it wasn’t really such a bad experience, but at the time it was pretty confusing. The only subject I enjoyed was the elective I took up, Literature in English, and that was what kept me sane till I finally graduated. 

A dream of mine came true when I was selected for National Service (a three month military type camp) and was stationed in Sabah from January to March of this year. For those of you who aren’t familiar with it, Sabah is in East Malaysia while I live in West Malaysia, which means I have to get on a plane to get there (not that I mind, because I love travelling and planes and other such things). I’m not going to go much into that, but suffice to say that it was probably the very best experience of my life. I got to meet incredible people and received the opportunity to do a lot of things I’d never done before, like shoot a gun (another thing to check off my bucket list, yay!) and learn traditional dance. I even got to choreograph a very short RnB dance, which was lots of fun. I came back home on March 18th with a handful of fantastic experiences, higher self-confidence, wonderful new friends and a very bad tan. It was awesome.

I have just only started going to university, where I’m taking up Foundation in Arts and Education in hopes of pursuing a degree in English with Creative Writing a year from now. After spending eleven years trapped in a government school system, having the freedom to spread my wings and take control of my own path feels a lot like bliss. I love the more interactive learning I get to do here, where I feel like I’m actually gaining knowledge and being educated instead of simply being schooled. It’s really amazing, plus all the lecturers are wonderful and the people I’ve met so far are nothing short of lovely.

That being said, the workload is going to pile up pretty soon so I’m going to have to focus right on the assignments and projects at hand, diving headfirst into them and immersing myself in new (and frankly, pretty awesome) experiences and a lot of stuff I don’t quite understand yet. It helps a lot that I’m finally able to take up what I’m truly interested in. I feel like I’m able to give my very best and participate fully in every single one of my classes. However, being in university also means I’m away from home and miss my family and friends every now and then, but I’m sure it’s all going to be very much worth it in the end. Besides, I’m enjoying myself so much now, and it’s only my third day!

I’m slightly out of practice as far as writing is concerned (as you can probably tell) because lately I’ve been focusing my efforts on poems and songs, leaving my incomplete novel-in-progress to gather dust in a corner and abandoning short story ideas by shoving them somewhere underneath other slightly less fun obligations in hopes that I’ll have time to dig them out and sort through them later. Hence, I’m making myself a little bit of a goal – to publish something on this blog at least once a fortnight (hopefully every weekend, if I can) that will get my creative juices flowing. I have a list of things I want to write, I just have to find the time to actually type them all out and post them here. It takes a little more effort for me to do that because I prefer the sensation of an inky blue pen scratching against notebook paper a lot more than I enjoy the clickity-clack of a keyboard, but I have to admit there’s something satisfying in watching letters appear across a previously blank, white computer screen. Hmm…that’s quite a good topic, actually. Maybe I’ll go into that a little more later on.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say for now. Life is good for me, and I hope it’s going well for you too. Till next time! 

Adjusting to Change

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I’ve been back at school for three days now. It’s a different ball game altogether this year – new subjects to learn and officially being one of the older students in the school. I’m in a completely different class from last year and most of the familiar faces of last year’s classmates aren’t in my class – luckily I still have two of my closest friends in class with me. Not to mention that a lot of my dear friends have moved school this year – one is even migrating to another country! And I’m definitely not used to the freshmen looking up at my friends and I with a kind of awe – did I do that when I was new here? Even my chess teacher is different this year.

I’m not a stranger to change – over the past few years things have altered so fast and so much that when I look back on my past self in maybe 2007, I find that I don’t even recognize that girl anymore! I seem to have become a different person every single year since then, different people who don’t even ring a bell to my mind any longer. They seem like strangers – ghosts of a past life or something like that. Sometimes it sort of unsettles me, to look at myself in the mirror and not recognize the person staring right back at me.

I’m not gonna lie, I hate change. Not because change itself isn’t good, but because it loves to say “I told you so!” When something changes, it’s almost never positive, but then a little later, maybe a week, a couple years or even a decade later, you realize that it was for the best. And change shoves it in your face, like, “See?”

Anyhow, back to the original subject – getting used to this new, alien year at school. It’ll take some time to adjust to this new routine and everything in it. I don’t usually find it so difficult to adjust, but this – this is something else altogether.

I remember watching an episode of my favourite crime show, Bones. In it, the main character, Temperance Brennan finds herself dealing with a case she finds personal. A body of a rich woman is found in a bad part of town and she goes to investigate, and she finds several similarities between her and the victim – height, weight, favourite animal, etc. When she sees the victim’s ID photo, she finds that it looks exactly like her. When she asks her partner FBI Special Agent Seely Booth if he recognizes the victim, he says no. When she hears a recording of the victim’s voice, Brennan hears her own voice. Her colleagues begin to worry about her when she has difficulty being objective on the case as she relates very much to the victim, even in terms of love life.

She can’t sleep, so she returns to her lab late at night to continue working on the case, and Micah, a security guard, finds her there. He tells her about a lecture he attended – an experiment was set up where a group of people were made to wear glasses that made them see the world upside down.  For three days, the world was upside down for them (literally, mind you). But after three days, they were made take off the glasses and instead of seeing things right side up, everything was upside down. The conclusion of the experiment was that it takes the brain three days to adjust.

It took three days for Brennan and Booth to solve the case, and after those three days, Brennan looked at the ID picture of the victim and no longer saw her face staring back at her, but the real face of the victim.

I guess what I’m trying to say is – I’ve been at school three days. Maybe when I go back on Monday, everything will seem normal. Maybe my brain would have adjusted…or maybe it would still be stubbornly unadjusted. My brain’s a little weird.

Whatever the case, change is inevitable in life and we just have to adapt to it. Unfortunately. :)

The key to change…is to let go of fear ~ Rosanne Cash

Happy New Year! and an excuse

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Did I say last time was a record? No way, not even close. Now it’s six months… Get that man! Six huge whole big fat wide tall months! And I used to write at least once a week!Don’t worry, I have a (sort of, something like, actually not really) brilliant excuse:

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STUDYING

You see, for the past six months up until October I had been up to my nose in studies, all for a VIE – Very Important Examination. Ok, so after October I had tons of time to blog, but I was too busy being an absolute bum, and wasting away through a whole bunch of storybooks and friend hangouts that had been put off for far too long. And before that I had been participating in a dozen different writing competitions, so I focused on that and not on my blog.

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Doomsday...

So I was all chill…until the terrifying and inevitable arrived – the red letter daythe day of my results for this VIE (yes, this is a very exam-oriented country). I sat with my best friends in the result hall – they made this huge deal of it, you know, like announcing the names of those with straight A’s, and I was thinking, like, oh no oh no oh no! I was just about dying when my name was announced along with the rest of the straight A students. Yipee! Well, that was over and done with so I got to relax. Now, believe it or not, it’s a new year! I can officially put the terrifying exams behind me until the next one – a VVIE (Very Very Important Examination – did you even need to ask that one?) comes up in another year. So I have two years till my next one, so it’s fun and games for now, right?

Except…

Next year is going to be even worse. I’m entering Form 4 in high school, and if I’m going to pay attention to all the horror stories told by my seniors, it’s supposed to be extremely difficult. New subjects, a new thing altogether – we even need to have orientation for it.

I’m not trying to be pessimistic or anything. Just…being a realist, I suppose.

Anyways, a new year is here, and I shouldn’t be being so negative! I mean, I know that everyone’s worried about the world ending in December this year, but what if the Mayans simply ran out of space on their calendar and thought, never mind, let’s just leave it like that? Maybe they ran out of space on their rock? Think about it.

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I don’t have a new year’s resolution this year, but I think I’m going to stop biting off more than I can chew (not literally, of course) and I’ll probably try to blog a little more than I did before – don’t take me up on that one, though.

Here’s wishing everyone a Happy New Year and a blessed 2012.

New year, new chapter, new beginnings.

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The Confounded Writer’s Block

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And… this has got to be a record. No new blog posts for nearly a month… Wow.

An old childhood favourite... Calvin and Hobbes

You see, I’d love to blog about something. Anything. Unfortunately my mind fails to allow me to think of an interesting topic that hasn’t been done before. It’s too busy focusing on my sinking History marks. And I haven’t written much in my book either. Gotta keep working on that one.

A sad scene that would likely take place at my desk.

I can’t stand writer’s block, honestly. But I honestly don’t consider it until I open my book to write in.

Oh dear me, I can’t seem to think of how this plot could go. Maybe if he kills the evil assistant… No, it’s too soon. Maybe he should make a new friend?

Then I realize that I have been having trouble with other things too, namely my blog.

Oh, it’s been a week since I’ve updated my blog! I must start a new post. Let’s see…

I then have to come to terms with the fact that I have no idea what to blog about, so I spend ages wracking my brain for a suitable topic.

Environmental issues? No, I’ve done that one before… Singing? Did that too. Oh what about this awesome book… Oh wait that’s been done on Freshly Pressed.

And in the end I’m just like:

A typical reaction of mine upon discovering that I have yet again been infected by writer's block.

Soon, a couple of hours pass and I have to get off the computer. I decide that if I stop thinking about it, I’ll come up with a good idea.

I’ll just take a break and see if something pops up. Sooner or later, it always does.

And before I know it, nearly an entire month has flown by and I’ve forgotten about the fact that I am suffering from the dreaded and highly fatal writer’s block. Until…

What’s *insert random name of friend here* doing over there on that computer? Oh, she’s blogging. Oh no I haven’t blogged in ages! How long has it been? AH!

So I go and check my blog for the first time in ages.

I’ve been subscribed to…! Oh. By someone who’s already deleted their account. Oh, look at all these comments. Well… 34 spam comments actually. I really must get a blog post going.

And that is how I came to be sitting here today, typing away.

It never fails, you know, no matter how often I follow online writer’s block solving tips. I got this list off the internet.

1. Implement a Writing Schedule.

Yes, I have gone back to the same place at the same time every day and still nothing springs to my head. Sometimes I just let my hand free-write on the paper and all that comes out is… garbage.

2. Don’t Be Too Hard on Yourself.

How can I not be? I’ve been trying for three weeks and still nothing comes out of my pen.

3. Think of Writing as a Regular Job, and Less as an Art.

4. Take Time Off If You’ve Just Finished a Project.

5. Set Deadlines and Keep Them.

(This is the only thing that really works for me… Except for the fact that the finished product is a little on the… well… awful side.)

6. Examine Deep-Seated Issues Behind Your Writer’s Block.

7. Work on More Than One Project at a Time.

(Three projects going on and I’m still getting nowhere…)

8. Try Writing Exercises.

(I do this in English class in school everyday.)

9. Re-Consider Your Writing Space.

(It’s actually a cosy little nook.)

10. Remember Why You Started to Write in the First Place.

(I need a LOT of help with this one.)

I do this... A lot.

Actually, I’ve discovered a really awesome way to beat writer’s block when it comes to blogging: If you can’t think about anything to blog about… Blog about the fact that you can’t think of anything to blog about.

Anyhow, I’ll just head off now… I just found a good plot for my book… I think.