Resolution and Independence

Always a Writer

Even when I am not physically writing, I am still writing. My motivation and confidence can waver. I can get angry and upset, believing at times that writing is pointless and I’ll never make it in any writing field. I can think I will never truly be heard. I can even declare countless times to the world I have stopped writing, if only temporary. But I’m still writing. In here. In my head. I can be watching a movie, folding some laundry, sitting in a car looking somberly out the window, or doing any other mundane task you can think of, but I am writing. My mind continues to formulate stories and ideas. It tries to make sense of all my thoughts surrounding the world around me and polish loose ends in a plot. Even when I am reflecting on my life or am thinking about the chores I need to do for the day, my mind eventually steers toward a creative idea. Not on purpose, but by chance. I know real writing isn’t writing until it’s drawn out, but the mindset of the writer is there. It will always be there. And the irony of it all is that I came up with this revelation and had to write it down on paper.

I may want to give up at times, but I know the writer in me won’t allow it. If I never break it in writing, I’ll always be a writer in my own way. The heart and soul of a writer never truly dies. Never.

Where’s the Reset Button?

I can say without a doubt that I’m not depressed, but I’m definitely losing vitality in the motivation department. I haven’t felt the urge to write, read, go to the gym, or even scan various social networking sites, tumblr included. In fact, I haven’t felt like doing much of anything for the past week. Everything I do or think I should be doing is tedious. Or perhaps it all seems forced now; a chore.

I’m stuck in a rut. Actually it’s like I’ve been on a bipolar roller-coaster ever since I graduated from college two years ago. Some days there is hope and opportunity, other days, not so much. The only highlight since I’ve graduated was my contract job which lasted half a year. It is the best moment of my post-college life because I was actually doing something that the real world expected of me. Today I do nothing. I’m unemployed and bored out of my mind. I start graduate school in mid-August, but I’ve no idea what to do until then.

I’ve been applying to part-time retail jobs for the past 1 and a half month so I can pass the time and earn some money, but so far there have been no returns. I admit I’m becoming quite bitter. I mean, I applied to career jobs after I graduated but it was a total letdown. I discovered the Catch-22 of finding a job: I can’t get a writing job because I have no experience. I can’t get experience because no one will hire me. My conclusion is that if I can’t qualify for a career job or even a retail job, there must be something wrong with me. OR the job system really sucks and I’m so glad to be returning to school in the fall to temporarily leave the work world behind me.

Again, I’m not depressed. If anything I’m really cynical right now and am going insane from being unemployed. Creating tasks, whether leisurely or not, for myself every day—like writing and reading—can only take me so far. I’m an active person, so I like to keep working and have constant goals. Though as of late, all I want to do is lay on my bed and stare off into space. In the morning and afternoon, I’m restless. At night, I don’t want to sleep. I think I need a change of pace. I need to know I have something to do for three months before I start school. I can’t do nothing. I can’t. I like creating tasks for myself but right now, I  just want to work at something that will have a payoff. That’s what I really want.

Ha, maybe I AM depressed after all and the beginning of this entry was a lie. Not the usual bawling my eyes out and thinking my life sucks kind of depression, but more of life temporarily sucks and I really need to do something or I’ll go crazy. I think I need my motivation back, don’t you agree? So who can point me to my reset button?

180

In a past entry, I mentioned I had a cousin, Victor, who was deciding on what college to attend. Ever since he got into a pre-pharm program, his parents have not stopped bugging him to go there because it’s only an hour away from home. The school is also offering him a lot of tuition money, but if you knew his family, he doesn’t really need it. Please note that he’s an only child as well, so his mom coddles and shelters him like no other. Still, Victor is a very popular and social guy. I believe he has the potential to do many things, in and out of the health field. To me, he’s just that talented but hasn’t found his true calling yet. His mom actually called a lot of the older cousins to convince him to enter this pre-pharm program—not that we listened to her anyways.

So Victor has been weighing his options for a long time. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to go to this pre-pharm school, but his parents, old-fashioned relatives, and one pharmacist cousin keep pressuring him and playing the “stability” card. It riles me up. At a recent family party, he took hours talking to people and finally canceled out the pre-pharm school. In the end, it was between two University of California (UCs) schools. He had to make the decision within another day. But lo and behold, I find out he accepted the pre-pharm school. Apparently our conservative pharmacist cousin took him to dinner and, I can only assume, scared Victor into changing his decision. Ridiculous. He did a 180 because his parents just couldn’t leave him the hell alone. He caved and I feel sorry for him. Now that won’t stop him from rising up to greatness, but I feel his undergrad experience could have been so much more enticing elsewhere. It’s not a bad school. I just don’t think it fit him, and he knows that. Regardless, I wish him the best of luck.

Funny side note… I’ll be attending the same school for graduate school so I’ll be seeing him around. Though no pharmacy for me. I’m firm on a writing/editing career.

Going South

The following piece has italics for effect, but my particular tumblr template refuses to show my italicized sentences. If you’re reading from the dashboard it shouldn’t be a problem. In any case, you can see the true form here: Going South

**********

She decided to go out for a long drive. To where and for how long, it did not matter. Driving calmed her. It cleared her head. And on a day like today—the clouds stubbornly holding in their tears—being holed up in an empty house was not an option. With the rest of society resolutely at work and school, her sitting at home losing hope each day did not match up. She needed an out. She needed an out because Life was crushing her. She got to her car and put the keys in the ignition. Releasing the emergency brake, she reversed out the driveway and onto the nearest highway. 10am. Not many cars on the road. She drives the easy speed of 65-70mph. In her parent’s luxury sedan, she becomes one with the car, gliding smoothly over the pavement—no, flying; any other car, with their poor suspension, would have disrupted her peace. She takes steady breaths and relaxes her mind. Everything is going to be okay, she thinks to herself. Everything is going to be okay. But then the lack of cars begins to disturb her. She becomes aware of how lonely she really is. Will anyone ever give me a chance, she wonders, or will they keep forcing me to slip—farther and farther—away from who I am… was… wanted to be? No. She’s already hollow. She’s just a hollowed out shell now.

She grips the steering wheel tighter. I can do it, she thinks. She pushes down on the gas pedal with more force. 80mph. I can do it. I can outrun Life’s grasp. She continues to accelerate. Her surroundings blur into mindless streaks; reality as she knows it, twisted and distorted. 85mph. I won’t let life take me. It can’t take me. It can’t take what doesn’t exist. 90mph. I can do it. Just turn the wheel and do it. 95mph. She was filled with false hope and hysteria, yearning to be the girl who once dreamed for eternity, not the girl who failed. She could taste it on her lips. 100mph. She could do it. Do it. But without warning, she sees in the corner of her eye the dragon necklace given to her by her father for luck, hanging from the rear-view mirror. The faces of her family and friends form in front of her, waking her from her trance. Releasing the tension off the steering wheel, she decelerates the sedan and back into Life’s embrace. She sobs and her hands tremble, because though Life can be cruel and fickle at times, Life is also forgiving and passionate. Back at a steady pace, she continues to think she can’t stand living one more day. However, just because her life wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, that didn’t mean the life of her loved ones couldn’t be. They deserved better. She owed it to them to hold on another day. Another week. Another month. Another year. Because maybe—just maybe—things will turn up after all. And seeing the next exit at hand, she merges out and turns back around. I’m going home.

Funny Glasses

There is one advice my college English teacher and mentor, Eric, once told me that I always try to keep in mind when I write. It went something like this:

“Wear on a pair of funny glasses—or imagine that you are—when you sit down and begin to write. That way, you can take on the persona of the confident writer who takes chances and isn’t afraid of being wrong. It will make you less anxious about being judged personally.”

Lament: The Faerie Queen’s Deception

By Maggie Stiefvater

“It struck me that we’d come to a strange unspoken agreement. He pretended to be normal, and I pretended I believed him. I wanted to believe him. But I couldn’t. What brand of abnormal, I wasn’t sure yet.” -Dee

The story of Lament follows sixteen-year-old Deidre “Dee” Monaghan, a talented harpist. Musical genius aside, Dee is a shy girl who sees herself as ordinarily plain. With the exception of her outgoing, bagpipe-playing best friend, James, Dee is socially awkward and has no other friends. In comes Luke Dillon, a handsome and mysterious flutist, who she meets and becomes infatuated with at a music competition. The catch? He’s a gallowglass, a soulless faerie assassin sent by the Faerie Queen to kill Dee because her musical talent threatens the Queen’s sovereignty. But there is more to Luke than meets the eye, and assassin or not, Dee can’t help but seek out his true intentions. Unfortunately for Dee, seeing Luke is just the beginning of things to come as other evil faeries appear and she’s thrown into a centuries old faerie war.

Lament is a YA romance novel mixed with Celtic Faerie lore. What enticed me to pick up this book was not the romance, but the promise of evil faeries. Given it’s a young adult book, I shrugged off the average prose and gave the story the benefit of the doubt. I wasn’t expecting an amazing story, but I was still hoping to be entertained. However, I would be disappointed by Lament both as a romance novel and a supernatural one.

Lets first discuss the romance aspect. I do not hate romances. I get giddy about romances just like any other girl. I just prefer romances to be a side story, like in Harry Potter or The Hunger Games. The problem with Lament is that it’s a pure romance novel, yet I found the side romances in HP and HG more addicting and relatable. The characters of Dee and Luke fall flat. I found Dee to be an annoying, whiny girl. At times I think she can be a strong character, but she’ll revert back to bad decisions because of her infatuation with Luke. And for someone who hates people judging her and not seeing her for who she is, she’s narrow-minded and judgmental herself. Though I will admit she’s a step up from Bella Swan from Twilight, who is intolerable (I read the first book to see what the fuss was about). As for Luke, I do not see the appeal at all. Frankly he’s creepy and sketchy, always showing up out of nowhere. I don’t care how gorgeous he is. His evasiveness and  the forced mystery surrounding him is a turnoff. If you won’t tell me who you really are, then go away. I also don’t understand why he’s so enamored with Dee. The book never clearly explains and so I don’t really care what happens between them. What they share is NOT love.

Read More

Nightly Retreat

The night is my favorite time of day. Contrary to what people associate with it—monsters, the supernatural, evil, fear—I feel the most safe when the sun goes down, the lights extinguish in homes, the air grows silent, and humanity checks out into slumber. No one can reach me, as I melt into the darkness, tucked away under my warm, life-size shield. No one can hear me, as I pour my emotions of rage, sadness, and hopelessness down the side of my face, which entangles itself in my hair and is absorbed by my compassionate headrest. I can stretch out my hand into the dark abyss, pleading for help to no one in particular. And seeing no one, just as they cannot see me, I retract and clutch tightly to an object of my affections, holding it close to my heart. Amidst all these overwhelming emotions and pleading, I do not feel alone or afraid. I am not even embarrassed despite my reticent nature. No one can judge me here in my haven, or disrupt my catharsis. I can lay in peace, knowing I am no longer comparable to anyone, nor are they comparable to me. In sleep, in the dream world, everyone is my equal. There is no progression. Time stops without really stopping. It is this absolute thought in the shadow that brings out my much needed relief. The night is my favorite time of day. My only fear is when I must finally close my eyes and fall asleep.