Sucker Punch

If you stand for nothing, you fall for everything.
- Movie Sucker Punch

Impossible

- Shontelle

Tell them all I know now
Shout it from the roof top
Write it on the sky love
All we had is gone now
Tell them I was happy (i was happy)
And my heart is broken
All my scars are open
Tell them what I hoped would be
Impossible, impossible

Days

- Philip Larkin

What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are happy to be in:
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.

Big Girls Don't Cry

- Fergie

It's personal, myself and I
We've got some straightenin' out to do

And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
But I've got to get a move on with my life
It's time to be a big girl now
And big girls don't cry
Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry

The path that I'm walkin', I must go alone
I must take the baby steps 'til I'm full grown, full grown
Fairy tales don't always have a happy ending, do they?
And I foresee the dark ahead if I stay

Fantabulous Ideas!

I've actually been mulling over a few ideas this past week and oh-my-goodness (someone give me an alternative exclamation phrase!) I think I can really work it. Very different ideas. Will probably need lots of research, but oh how brilliant!

Funny. I think I'm slightly manic. Sleep time.

Mighty

And it's mighty when it doesn't work anymore.

What happens when your passions or [insert other addictions here] stop working for you?

Conviction

He has swum far and dived low to be certain of his course to heaven
Certain that the best-kept secret will present itself
Propped like a pearl in an open shell

So he sings to his lady, tells her an oceanful of truths
And she says yes I know
Out of pity

Screwed

I am writing poetry.  Poetry. I don't write poetry. They are too sickly, too sly, too caught up in their own aesthetics. I don't like it, don't approve of it, don't bother. So someone please tell me why I am currently mass-producing them like an assembly line.

This is both curiously wonderful and disturbing. Wonderful, because I'm blown away by the things you can do in a few lines, in as little words as possible, of the way words can laugh and sob with you, of the way words look on paper, of the personality of speech and language and everything-in-between. Disturbing, because I'm not writing stories anymore.

No. I'm sorry. You don't quite get it.

Story-writing is the one way I become a number of someone elses: narrator, character, dreamer, caricature, time-traveller, government, annotator of problems and solutions, speaker for the layman. It is how I forget the dreary flaws of this existence, and how I step into another. It is how I can make up terrible, disgusting, frightful other-worlds and be thankful I'm in mine. It is how I keep sane.

Story-writing is my life. It's why I take up Literature. It's the last reason jolting me awake in the morning. It is why I stay up late, or sit on the same chair for hours. It's my vocation. It's my special gift from God. It is the single, unmovable, dependable, nuclear essence of me. It is my passion, my heart, my work, my soul, my life, me. It is everything.

Tell me then, what can Poetry possibly offer to come up rival?

'When you're young and talented, it's like you have wings.'
 - Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

Epic

Shatter like stars pricked off the sun
Like moonlit leaves plucked off the river
Like graffiti spattered across my window

Be aware be very aware
Of this amazing glorious stupendous awesomely intense pain
Of how your insides flare up like sharp icicles
Of the stiff limbs

You know you are still real

Words

The difference between do not like and dislike?

It

It is not pretty
It does not have fabulous eyes
Fabulous nose mouth hair

But it has
Bright eyes clean nose glossed mouth
Neat neat hair

We want a bit of it
Post-surreality
For the hollow men

Ivory

The opaque juts out
Like ivory
Under the thin

Where did it all disappear to?
__ loves to ask.

The New Life

Feel it everyday, the humdrum
Of a pain becoming familiar
Ritualise it, make it religion
Make it the Be-all End-all

Get tired of it, the sameness
Of a practice without will
Be angry, slash at it, widen the gashes
Watch it sew itself back

Ask for it, the new living
To denounce this pain
For it is not pain at all
Merely a lost road taken

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

- Shakespeare, Macbeth

Happy

When was the last time Happiness wasn't just a word?

When did Happiness become a concept to decipher, a mesh of other feelings, the antithesis of Sadness?

When was the last time you were happy, and didn't have to define it so?

The Experiment

Warning: This is an experiment.

She walks out the window.
Floats in the air.
Walks in the street, stops for a stare.

She takes a stone, maims that pigeon.
Watches it glide and flutter.
The splinter of its beak bent like a slur.

She is the Lost.
Is there a burial ground
For those not yet Found?

Time is ticking now.
But the hourly chime, simply
Cannot sound for those who cannot mime.

Warning: End of Experiment.

For You

This is for you, after you, you, you.

Because the strands come together over the fretboard.
Cover you, you empty, vast Hole.
Make this sympathetic succession of sounds.
So I strum and sing and belt out the familiar darkness.
Realise that it is you who echo
And amplify my tones of sorrow.

Weave 'em out, them horse-strings.
They are coarse, rough, good.
Hold the neck! Grab the headstock!
And loosen 'em tuner posts.

Now I can play real, real music.
Music without your resonance of woe.

This is for you, after you, you, you.

Close-Up

I am ready for it
Hair to one side
Cue the flash

No wait
Come closer
It is out of kilter

Make sure you get Me right
The important parts
The laugh that resounds

The scent looking crooked
But hold it -
Avoid the eyes

Quick!
Capture my personality too
I seldom get it this right

Firework

- Katy Perry

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag
Drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?
Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin
Like a house of cards, one blow from caving in?

Do you ever feel already buried deep?
Six feet under screams but no one seems to hear a thing
Do you know that there's still a chance for you
'Cause there's a spark in you?

You just gotta ignite the light and let it shine
Just own the night like the 4th of July

'Cause baby, you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go, oh
As you shoot across the sky



(Thanks Sarah!) 

Revelation

It's literally just lighted up my life and made it that much more coherent:

You know what we're all yearning for? Something that is inexplicable. And you'll say 'it's just this feeling', and you'll comment that the moods are odd and special and perfect because they just are, and you'll find that moment when everything makes sense for their senselessness.

The Lit Path

it is like a sun, you see
this tenseness in me that grows
north, west, south and east
scalding my face so that i blush

but i've been silly anyway
to think that speaking and reading and writing
could make dim that garish ray
that they could ever be my salvation

you must see, the prose i write
are poems stretched out to make sense
i skitter up words that take me aflight
then have to tolerate that strange suspense

it doesn't solve things, it is simply
a self-absorbing indulgence
this escape from the gritty
this highly priced disappointment

As a Reader

Was at Costa (it's this little chain cafe in the UK) earlier and watching a little girl read her book by the window seat. Made me think of how I used to get so engrossed in a book that I'd feel like I was in another world.

It doesn't happen anymore though. I wonder if it's because I've gotten impatient, or if every story seems to be a repeat of another. I want to say it's because I haven't got time, but it seems too easy an excuse. I find myself making little side notes of the writer's technique, musing over the subtle clues and insights to life, and then skimming through the rest of the book after 'Preface'.

I wonder if it makes me any lesser as Writer when I don't do Reader right.

I'm very comfortable with my style of writing. It's a descriptive sort of prose, more of emotion than of places and sounds and sights, more metaphor than surface value. I like it, love it, enjoy writing and reading this particular style, but I'm beginning to find it very limiting. I'd like to try out simple, factual, teasing writing that doesn't hint at earth-shattering epiphanies. I'd like to try out simple sentences, without commas, each five words long. I need a new angle. Something really new. And fresh.

Hm. Looks like I've just found what I can do. 

In terms of my writing, I am currently in this search for precise words. Words that don't just give a glimpse of what I mean, but are what I mean. Phrases pieced together for both their beauty and political correctness. In short, I am becoming like all the other Literature-ists who become too critical of language, who cut the language apart and seem to overlook the very banal perspective that language can be, above all, merely a language.

See? I'm even finding trouble with that last sentence. Bah.

Right now. In a nutshell.

Grief

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless;
That only men incredulous of despair,
Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air
Beat upwards to God’s throne in loud access
Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness
In souls, as countries, lieth silent-bare
Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare
Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express
Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death:
Most like a monumnetal statue set
In everlasting watch and moveless woe,
Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.
Touch it: the marble eyelids are not wet;
If it could weep, it could arise and go.


Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

TC

Do not underestimate what it means to take care of yourself.

It is the hardest, most tiresome, thing to do. It is the most adult thing you can do. It is your most precious commodity. It is your best investment.

Derek Walcott

From What the Twilight Says by Derek Walcott:

' ... the manic absurdity would be to give up thought because it is white.'

' ... colonial literatures could grow to resemble [English Literature] closely but could never be considered its legitimate heir.'

'All their betrayals are quarrels with the self, their pardonable desertions the inevitable problem of all island artists: the choice of home or exile, self-realization or spiritual betrayal of one's country.'

'The language of the torturer mastered by the victim. This is viewed as servitude, not as victory.'

Without Stress (?)

Came across an article entitled: 'How to Live a Life Without Stress', which I think is complete bull. You have to have stress, you need to be consistently (albeit not continuously) stressed. As humans, we are walking defects with egoes the size of God's thumb (Form 4 Lit students, ring a bell?), and if we're not stressed every now and again, beaten down and cracked open every once in a while, we're bound to end up like: a) inflated balloons, and getting bored of the air, or b) depressed and sad and hating the sunlight because the boredom will eat us whole.

In a way, life is only about escaping boredom. It's not about surviving, not even to 'survive' in this competitive, economically-driven world, because we're just fine, thank you very much, living off cheap bread and working at Tesco's. Having great interest in buying another loaf of Gardenia, however, is another matter.

The purpose of life is a life of purpose.
- Robert Byrne -

Spook

Think I'm spooking myself out.

Are Gore writers sick?

I'm cracking myself up.

WRITE

I don't know if it's the course. Maybe English Literature disentangles you in such a way that you'd never be able to step back and read without analysing and deciphering and taking apart.

Haven't written in nearly three weeks. Everything I write is bullshit. Nothing is new. Nothing is inspiring. Nothing makes me want to write more. And it's all the same stuff, thrown out over and again, phrased differently, phrased more badly, and I'm searching for this string of words to 'punchline' it out, but nothing's fucking working.

It could be that I'm just PMS-ing.

Tribute to Adam Lambert

Dear Adam,

I am totally in love with you. And I don't know how long it'll last, or if it's just this massive crush that I'll never get over, but you are absolutely AWESOME. Like, amazingly AWESOME. Your music is fantastic (you're so versatile! all your songs sound different!) and you put so much emotion in them, so much intensity, and you really know who you are. It's like, off screen, you're such a sweet guy, this unassuming 28-year-old doing the interviews, and you keep yourself humble - no one could possibly guess you're the same guy on and off screen!

I feel inspired again, and it's the most wonderful feeling ever. I can write, I can jump, I can do any damn thing I want to. And for that, nothing, not even this post, shows exactly how much I thank you.

From your special fan,
Shu <3

Thank you xxx

The Big Love

Ding ding ding!

Know that, when I feel that urgent need to adapt in a foreign land, you're the ones I want to call up. Only you can straighten out my ideas and tell me to shut my mouth.

Know that, when I need validation of an identity, I think of you all. After years of growing up together, you've become like a lighthouse that flags me home whenever I stray.

Know that, when the weather is gloomy and making new friends is hard, I look through Facebook photos of all of us because they're like fuel that propels me headlong, keeping me going.

For Ranj - because you're my crazy babe :D

For Sarah - because you give me all the strength I'll ever need.

For Steph - because you're priceless, and you know it :P

For Gitz - because you're nothing short of brilliant.

I know we all move on, but the thing about Friendship is that it stays with you - continually grounding you, pushing you forward, cushioning your little falls. 

It's Friendship that's given me heart. Love you all <3

To come back, or not to

I mean, during Christmas. Should I? I mean, it really sucked last year when I spent my first Christmas away from home, but perhaps this time round, I'll be more prepared for the emotional (or non-emotional, for that matter) side of it.

Pros of coming back:
See family
See friends
December there is fucking cold (but that's all the way to April too)
Can spend New Year's here too
No lonely 3 weeks of nothing to do
Retake driving test (but can take next June-October)

Cons of coming back:
Leaving Elvina there alone
Wasting accommodation money
Have to come back next year anyway for Jo's graduation
Might not be able to practise and pass driving test

I hate thinking lah.

I'm the Coffee Writer

I love the way that sounds: Coffee Writer. Probably a little romantic on my part, but that's what girls do, no?

Anyway. The story I'm writing on Creative Heavens is going NOWHERE. Like, it's seriously getting on my nerves. Finally decided to cancel two recent chapters. Haven't gotten round to it 'cause it just hurts to cut out all that hard work.

But I guess it's editing. Try not to screw it up too much, won't you, Mitch? At least now you can turn back before you complete its disastrous transformation.

LoL

Teh Tarik Rocks

From one of those convenient little packets. Still awesome, though. Funny how I never liked teh tarik before.

Improvement

How do you improve your own writing? How do you get more versatile?

Gosh, I love being an artist.

1-Malaysia

Happy Merdeka, fellow Malaysians!

Proud to be Malaysian! 

In the end, in spite of all the politics, the whatever-lah attitude (which can be both annoying and endearing), the racial slights that arise from over-focusing on differences, Malaysia's got a warmth that can't be found anywhere else. This is the one place where, if this land were a glove, it'd fit me like a second skin. 

Long live Bangsa Malaysia!

Also, The Star has got some pretty good articles today, so check them out. Some interesting food for thought.

The Coffee Writer ...

... because that's how I've always envisioned myself writing. The cheapest cup of coffee on the menu, a seat in a local coffee shop (not Starbucks, thank you very much), and a laptop on which I can work my magic.

In many ways, envisioning your future involves a vision of your whole lifestyle. You'll want a career all right, but the lifestyle that comes with it always plays a major factor. I think I'd like journalism, and I also think it can be very fake. Ruthless, hardening, backstabbing.

Maybe it ain't nothing like that. Hopefully.

Penang Trip

Thanks you guys! You know you rock :)

I'm hoping to remember all the little details this time. Like, the way Sarah printed out two copies of the itinerary, or how Gitz eats very often with her family at Bangkok Lane (and the way her family orders separately, 'tanpa kerang', 'tanpa siput', 'chilli lebih'), or the way Steph and Anna squash into Sarah in the middle of the night, or how Anna drives with only one hand.

Awesome-ness.

CONGRATULATIONS!

TO MY LITTLE SISTER!

Well done. And have a blessed year ahead :)

Toothache

My wisdom is driving me insane.
A.R.G.H.

Young Again

I feel like a little girl again. Truth be told, it feels pretty dang good :)

For the rest of your life

What do you know? I've been envisioning the rest of my life. It never seemed relevant before - like, the future was always only within a 3-year period, and anything longer than that would be old age. But it's kind of enlightening to know about this other range of experiences one can possibly undergo, and it gets me excited!

There's a whole life to build, girl. A whole lifetime.

Dad says I'm stubborn. That I got that from both him and mum. Just thought it'd be notable to mention since it's the tagline of this blog.

Did I mention a whole life? And a sure adventure if we'd just ... wing it XD

Sad. Sort of.

Because it doesn't matter whether you remember what your ambitions are, or if you've even got any. What matters is that you stick to your guns, you plod on and toil away and sweat it out; what matters is making damn sure you go the distance.

Needless to point it out, but NADA. No writing juice flowing. I've literally stopped writing for a week now. Everything seems constructed somehow, already done, already written, and I need something so original that the technical right of my brain refuses to cooperate with its artistic counterpart.

Makes me pretty pissed off, truth be told. Is it because I haven't been reading the right books?

Quotes from Brida

When Ayne (from whom I got this book) told me that it was a good read, I didn't quite believe her. Mostly because I'd read another Paulo Coelho book before and it didn't quite 'click' with me. But even if I'm not too fond of the presentation style, I can understand its appeal, and I actually bookmarked a few quotes because they're so ... true.

'That Faith cannot be explained. It was simply a Dark Night.'

'Remember, the first road to God is prayer, the second is joy.'

'There were no beautiful or ugly bodies, because all had followed the same trajectory.'

'Everyone has a Gift, but they choose not to see it. You accepted yours, and your encounter with your Gift is your encounter with the world. / But why? / So that you can plant God's garden.'

'If he hadn't wanted [Adam and Eve] to eat [the apple], he would never have mentioned it. / So why did he, then? / In order to set the Universe in motion.'

'People give flowers as presents because flowers contain the true meaning of Love. Anyone who tries to possess a flower will have to watch its beauty fading. But if you simply look at a flower in a field, you will keep it forever, because the flower is part of the evening and the sunset and the smell of damp earth and the clouds on the horizon.'

'I will always remember now that love is liberty.'

God

Today I believe in God. And this is the funny thing, because it's more of shame and regret than gratitude. Shame, guilt, regret.

Bizarre Memories

Okay, so I've always known that people may surprise you with what they remember. Until this summer back home, however, I didn't know I'd be on the receiving end. So yes, it does feel bizarre when someone (ahem!) tells you that you wanted to buy this shirt once upon a time (which you've forgotten about), and you said something funny regarding that shirt (which you forgot too), and the cashier looked at you funny when you were paying (forgot), and your friend had to pay for you (forgot), and then you paid her back two months later (forgot).

Bizarre? Yes I think so! Mostly because my memory seems to have failed me a few embarrassing times now.

On another note, a big 'Thank You' to Sarah for lending me Handle With Care by Jodi Picoult. A wonderful read. If anyone's reading this, and if you're a big reader like myself, get books from her! This book-loving girl has a mad stash of books (mad, being figurative, of course, but it comes close). And add her as a friend on Shelfari. She knows what she's reading XD

Rewards in Life

... and even though I've lived too short to even consider that life should grant me rewards, it has.

For one, I have incredibly brave friends. I don't know what I've done to deserve you mad lot, but it must have been something right. Secondly, I've got a fine family. Not perfect, but as long as we try, we come pretty close. Thirdly, I know I'm about to change the world.

I've actually paused in the writing. Simply because the juices aren't flowing! Mind you, I'm awfully frustrated (can you tell by the exclamation mark?) but I'll keep on keeping tabs. It's only pissing me off. No big.

And I'm thinking I would really like to come back for Christmas this year. Spending Christmas away from home, away from family, away from old friends - it's not exactly meriah.

Savage Garden

One of the most perfectly written lyrics around:

And when the stars are shining brightly

In the velvet sky,

I'll make a wish

Send it to heaven

Then make you want to cry..

The tears of joy

For all the pleasure and the certainty.

That we're surrounded

By the comfort and protection of..

The highest power.

In lonely hours.

The tears devour you.. 

I want to stand with you on a mountain,

I want to bathe with you in the sea.

I want to lay like this forever,

Until the sky falls down on me... 

I know. I'm such a sucker for words.
Oh. And I just passed my driving theory test! Ujian 1 down!

Deleting 2,000 words

Yes. This coffee writer has just deleted 2,000 words from her piece. At first, I was all like, I took FOREVER coming up with that, you moron! But I also knew it was necessary, because rambling is different from actual writing.

Hence, my written stuff has just dwindled into a meagre pile of ... well, less words than before. And I also discovered a lot of detail that I'd inserted before, most of which needs to be carefully taken into account. Annie can't be John's mother if she was Mac's mother before.

That said, I've been studying the 500 questions for the Undang theory test tomorrow. So not ready for it, but here goes.

so BAD

Just went through this part of the novella. It's so bad it's not even funny. And I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to salvage it.

[ Start of venting ]

HOW the FUCK am I supposed to invent gold out of a 23,000-words worth of ABSOLUTE crap? Should I change it all to present tense? Add scenes? Add drama? Add people? And HOW am I SUPPOSED to make THIS ONE CHARACTER more interesting? He is so boring I could fall asleep just reading about his hair.

And when I cut out the ramblings, EVERYTHING is too SHORT and too UNDESCRIBED, and I don't even have enough of 40,000 words to QUALIFY for a novelLA.

It's like I have to rephrase EVERYTHING.

*howls*

[ End of venting ]

Ugh.

Edits

They're not kidding when they tell you to read ( for goodness' sake ) before you write. Because there ain't no point in writing nuts when you babble.

Looking back on what I've written so far, I can safely say that no one will have it published even after adding another 40,000 words. I wouldn't have it published. So the editing part is crucial. While I'm having some trouble deciding whether or not to add scenes or characters, and whether or not to make it a novella instead of a full-length novel, at least it's a step in the right direction. Knowing what your drawbacks are, that is.

I guess it's just important to know what you want from a novel / novella. There is this plot that I very much wish was on the market, and since it obviously isn't, I have an opportunity sprung wide open. And what I want from a novel is tight writing, subtlety, drama, and good humour. Personally, I know I fall a little short on the humour part, which annoys me to hell.

Update '10

I've been lacking updates, I know. But I'll soon be writing as a Bellerbys graduate for the official Bellerbys college website (after graduation, of course, and when I'm in university), and I've decided to that that will be my blog after this one, unless I inform you otherwise. 

I'll be updating on my trip to Prague and Budapest (I'm here now!) before leaving this blog for good. So if you're reading this, hang in for just a couple more posts! 

That said, a big big THANK YOU to all you lovely people who've faithfully checked this inconsistent blog. Hopefully the next one will be more ... active XD