im listening to Natasha Bedingfield's Soulmate i suddenly felt like writing.. so here goes.. no flaming for bad writing, but constructive criticism would be nice ^-^ (that's assuming if anyone reads this la hehe)
She sits in front of her computer screen, tapping away viciously at the keyboard.
This is it, this is it. Or at least that's what she tells herself.
She glances at her half empty coffee cup, lamenting the fact that she has to restock on supplies soon.
Music from the radio shifts through her head, knocking in the words of a carefully scripted love song into her.
Pushing up her wire framed glassses, she takes another sip of coffee and continues typing. The music seems to be louder now.
After what seems to be forever, she clicks the print button and waits anxiously by the side of her printer, fearing that something bad may happen at this juncture. Murphy's Law.
Smile, she does at her masterpiece.
Another song comes on the radio.
And she cries. She cries so loudly and sorrowfully that it would break the heart of anyone who hears it.
But the fact is no one hears it.
She clicks on the volume up button so that she wouldn't have to hear herself.
In the silence, everything is amplified ten times, even silence itself.
For a few hours, she sits there unmoving, like nothing else in the world mattered but herself, and she liked that.
Then the sun creeps up on her. And she is forced to face the world, one which she shys away from.
She contemplates shreding her manuscript. And deleting the file from her computer.
But she's desperate. If there's one thing she enjoys and is actually remotely good at, it's writing.
To hell with it, i'll just send it in. They'll probably hate me and I'll be thrown out by the landlord anyway.
But that doesn't happen. The publishers love her story and publish it, largely unedited. It becomes a New York Times bestseller and she's able to buy a nice chic apartment of her own. And she smiles at book signings and interviews which label her the most impactful and emotive contemporary writer of the genre.
They ask her how she comes up with the material and she says she just does.
No one believes it when she says she's never been in love.
They speculate about a man in her life, someone she's too shy to introduce or who shuns the limelight.
They talk about her stories being based on her personal experiences.
But she denies them.
Yet no one believes her.
She finds it sad really.
When she stared at her finished work, she saw the depth of the love she imbued in her fictional characters, the self-less, self-scarificial, unwavering loyalty and passion that seems almost unreal, yet people constantly come up to her and tell her they know someone like that or that they can identify with the characters. It brings them hope they say, and gives them endearing faith in love and kindness.
That's why she cried. She cried that as a romance author, she has never fallen in love. That everything is simply a figment of a overactive, idealistic imagination artificially installed through the diffusion of pop culture.
Once in awhile now, in her chic apartment, she relives her moment of fragility by sitting in a corner and crying till daybreak.
And then she continues with her her lovely writing, booksigning, interviews and of course smiles.
Entry @ 10:42 PM;
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
she stands by the edge of the cliff, arms outstretched and on the verge of freedom, flying
then she hears a call, for help.
she rushes back from the cliff to find a a sister, a brother asking for aid
she gives or she tries her best to and then she runs back to the cliff, to take flight
but again she hears the voices reeling her in.
so she returns yet again
and again and again
to the point that prank calls are made.
but she tries, she tries.
perhaps her attempts have been futile
and all she has done thus far is to compound the situation
but she tries, she tries.
though now, she needs a compass to find her cliff.
and she hopes, she hopes.
fervently.
Entry @ 2:36 AM;
Saturday, April 19, 2008
i see a junior's blog about this year's South Africa trip and im suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of familiar emotions. it's like suddenly a plethora of feelings just made its way across an ocean that seems so far behind now. maybe it's cause it's exam season and im feeling extremely volatile at the moment or it could be PMS or both. but the sensory bombardment of colours, associated feelings and the such delivered a rollercoaster to my mind through words on a screen. not that it's a bad thing really. i like rollercoasters. but everything else aside, it really boils down to one thing...
PAMY TAN WHY DID YOU FORGET TO BRING A CAMERA WHEN YOUR BATCH WENT TO SOUTH AFRICA???
Entry @ 3:45 PM;
Sunday, April 13, 2008
i don't intend to go into directing but...
and this quote my COM206 textbook
As Nina Jacobson, the head of production for the Walt Disney Company explains "You can't get around the fact that directing movies is still a boy's club."
and in 206 class we learnt a whole lot on media portrayal and the sad fact that women actresses decrease in appeal as they age while men retain theirs
Tis depressing, but a truth of life.
That won't change for quite a while.
Oh well. I believe progress will come with time.
After all it was only after a long while that women could vote :)
perhaps if guys weren't so caught up with the notion of having a girl will long flowly hair, fair skin, sweet voice, demure, etc etc things won't be like that.
since the media is largely controlled by male bigwigs anyways...
but then it'd be wrong to but all the blame on the guys
i guess as girls we just have to be comfortable with who we are regardless of what the ideal girl/women is said to be.
that way we can move a little more towards being truly happy ^-^
Entry @ 5:04 PM;
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
you know it's sad when you want to cry because you're so unprepared but you have no time to do so
Entry @ 3:00 PM;
Monday, April 07, 2008