Ssh... Be Very... VEWWY... Quiet...

I don't want to celebrate just yet because in the past, every time I said this, I thought of something else to add and the proclamation seemed... well... phony.

Hence the title of this post. At the risk of jinxing myself, I must say... I think... I'm 99.9% sure... that Michael & Lizzy III... is done and dusted.

Which only leaves me Michael & Lizzy II. And then... by far, the longest novel, both in volume and the time period it has taken me to complete... can be proof-read and join Eleanor in the 'attempt to be published' list.

I Am... Simply Happy!

In the rush of everyday life, and in wasting so much energy whinging about the negatives, we tend to forget to pause and appreciate the things that are 'right' in your life.

I had an epiphany today, driving to work (of all things!). I had woken up feeling the least exhausted I've felt throughout the week. For someone who relished in being able to sleep in, I actually almost charged up out of bed, full of energy, ready to face the day.

I then spent the fifteen minutes of putting make-up and jewellery on chatting and bantering with my husband, who was getting dressed to go to work. We laughed, we joked, we had a really good, utterly unusual, lively morning conversation.

And it hit me; even amidst the business of work and the mundane things of everyday life, I can honestly say that I'm well and truly happy; content; at peace with myself. I am reminded of a scene in Sex & The City movie (number 1), where Charlotte was asked when was the last time she felt happy in her relationship. And her answer was:

"Every day. Well, not all day every day, but yes, every day."

And so, this is where I am right now - happy. First and foremost with my relationship with my husband; something I cherish and appreciate every day.

Another aspect of my life I seriously can't complain about is my work. I feel honestly
blessed working with the bunch of people I work for, and with; there is a sense of camaraderie amongst us that put us all in a category a few levels above just work colleagues; there are challenges and diversity in my everyday work I could never complain that my work is dull as. And I wake up everyday, looking forward to go to work, loving every minute of it.

Slowly Becoming Accustomed to Early Rising...

I have never been an early riser, though if the occasions call for it, I could grit my teeth and bear it. More than once, when I've done this, I have appreciated the beauty of what early morning offers; the realisation that the day doesn't go to waste; that there are more you can pack in a day because of it.

Still, every now and then, my body protests of waking up around the same time I usually wake up during the week; my mind chastises me for not seizing the opportunity to sleep in, when you have the freedom not to be dictated by other people's schedule.

But I am, more and more, beginning to get accustomed to waking up early; at least two hours prior to when I usually wake up during the weekend. It has that certain sense of comfort, roaming around the still-quiet house, listening only to the hum of the air-conditioning, hearing my brain tick and work, filled with all the words that might not have come so easily when the husband creature rises up and create additional sounds...

Tick... Tick... Tick...

No, that's not the sound of a second hand of the clock ticking... that's me ticking off the list as I finished writing section upon section.

I spent a large chunk of my weekend doing nothing but writing, vigorously trying for my hand to keep up with the speed of my brain, spitting out ideas after ideas, sentences after sentences, punch lines after punch lines.

Granted, in the end, my brain always runs ahead of my writing, but I must say that I'm quite pleased with what I've accomplished this weekend. Operation 'filling in the gaps' is definitely in progress!

Filling in the Gaps...

I know, I know... I've been absent for the past 2 months - travelling in a completely different country for 5 weeks and being thrown into the deep end back at work straight after, with 3 cluster meetings happening at the same time in 3 different venues will do that to you.

It doesn't mean that I have been a slack-ass in the writing department, though. It also doesn't mean that I don't go off in a tangent...

I think I've written about my writing process before. I don't write in a linear process. It's basically whatever I think of, I put down in pen and paper. Sometimes I have a clear idea as to where the section I'm writing should go, and slot that in-between the appropriate pages on my Word document. Other times, I just keep writing, and then I have to look at the rest of my half-finished novel, and determine where this passage would fit in best.

I think I've also mentioned about the 'difficulty' of finishing a novel. When it's about three-quarter done, I find my brain has to work that much harder to think of the 'tying-in' sections to finish that whole chapter off.

But on days like today, my brain is full of ideas for several tying-in sections, and I must say that I have to embrace that wholeheartedly whilst they're fresh in my mind. So I dubbed the rest of this month 'filling in the gaps' month, and maybe, just maybe, Lizzy & Michael III will be... dare I say it.... FINISHED!

One-Night Stand...

I've never experienced this. More to the point, I have very strong objections of the notion, and skepticism over the fact that this could happen in the first place. I literally screamed at the TV screen each time I watch this developing story line, and glowered at the opened book when I read a similar thing, busily thinking to myself, "your conscience should kick in right about now!" I refused to believe that a) first of all, you could be that wasted past all coherence, thrill and excitement notwithstanding; and b) that even if you are more than midly intoxicated, that all your coherence will go out the window - clouded, granted; lowered, yes; but nonexistent?

It doesn't mean, however, that my characters share the same conviction; one of the good things about creating fictional characters is that you can put them through whatever, and control the outcome (or not... sometimes my mind just runs off with a storyline, and my hand would write as fast as it allow me to do, and voila! Even I was surprised at the end result).

So here's a bit of a snippet I've been working on, about Evelyn, the character of my latest novel (yet to be titled), the always calculated, careful girl, making a slip of a judgement and finding herself, unexpectedly, in the arms of her ex-boyfriend-slash-good-friend...

Driven by inexplicable impulse she could only describe later on as having consumed way too much booze, therefore clouding her coherence and otherwise sound judgment, she stretched both her arms out, shuffling closer as soon as Eric helped pull her up to a sitting position, coyly placing her head on his chest, her mane rustling against his cotton shirt as she nuzzled her head further, trying to find a comfortable, hollow spot.

Quickly recovering from his ultimate startlement upon witnessing the most forward, almost bordering on flirtatious gesture his demure ex-girlfriend had ever given him throughout their seven-year friendship, Eric wrapped his arms around Evelyn’s hunched shoulders, a palm gently stroking the length of her silky chestnut hair, the effect on the girl growing more and more inert was rather hypnotising that Evelyn’s head began to nod off.

“Eve?” Eric called, shaking her lightly.

“Mmm,” came the mumbled answer from Evelyn’s unmoving lips.

“Eve!”

“Huh…? What?” She pulled back and blinked groggily, staring at him in utter disorientation as if she had just met him.

“Perhaps… you should… uh…”

Eric couldn’t understand why he was suddenly shy at the thought of suggesting to his close friend that she should have a proper lie down, his head jerking vaguely to the direction of the hallway, where her bedroom door stood ajar at the opposite end, his cheeks burning.

As if they had forged a silent truce Evelyn wanted to honour, she simply nodded, putting all her weight on Eric as he offered his support, giggling helplessly as she toppled off-balance, landing in a rather undignified pose on top of Eric.

“Oof!” both of theme exclaimed in unison; Evelyn for bumping her head onto her friend’s sturdy chest, and Eric because the girl, in an effort to break her fall, had braced an arm out, her hand pressing on the sensitive spot of his thigh.

Evelyn’s hilarious cackle disappeared as she looked up, brows furrowing as she met Eric’s eyes; he was regarding her with an extremely foreign expression she had never seen before; not even during their brief romantic relationship in high school.

“Eric…”

Cradling the curve of her skull firmly on his broad hands, Eric pulled her up, aiming his lips on hers, the heat of his passion burning through her skin.

A Little Hiatus...

I can't belive that it's been exactly 1 month and 1 day since I wrote... oops.

Things have been super-hectic in every aspects of my life lately. I have had to put up with sometimes excruciating pain stabbing my lower right gum, and had to visit 2 dentists with the verdict that:
1. All of my wisdom tooth are still inside my mouth.
2. The wisdom teeth on the far right-hand side has grown on an angle, and therefore it was putting pressure on all the other teeth; not to mention that because of that, over the years, the toothbrush couldn't do a very good job in cleaning the teeth properly, so it was also decaying.

In that light, they sent me to another dentist to get both my bottom and top right wisdom tooth removed.

I really thought that... well, the worst to happen, really. The referring dentist and the actual dental surgeon both took one look at me and said "can you take some time off?" In which I replied yes. They then told me that the reason I would have to do this is because there might be swelling involved after the painkillers wore off.

My immediate thought was for one side of my face to be blown up to extreme proportion. To this effect, I went to look at myself in the mirror almost every hour, wondering when my face would turn purplish-blue, or any unnatural, unhealthy colour, and ballooned up. To my ultimate relief, this never happened. Despite the initial tightness on my lower cheek when the drugs were wearing off, and the fact that my gum wouldn't stop bleeding until the next day, despite the fact that I honestly thought someone had punched my lower jaw and I was recovering from it, I felt quite... chirpy.

But I did take a day off and had a super-long weekend, in which, you guessed it, I did nothing but plonk myself on my favourite spot on the couch, half-watching Days of Our Lives, and wrote to my heart's content.

The weekend after, my wonderful, loving husband and I celebrated our 6th year wedding anniversary by going on to a lunch cruise. We had a perfect weather for it, so we went up to the observation deck and took some picturesque photos of the city and its surroundings.

Apart from that, I have been excitedly (read: squealing like a schoolgirl) counting down to our trip to the US. We'll be flying to LA, connecting flight to Miami, driving to Orlando. A week later, we will be in New York. After 3 weeks of that, it will be Las Vegas for 4 days and the remaining 3 days in LA before heading home. To say I'm bouncing off the wall, grinning from ear to ear and clapping my hands in exuberance is an understatement.

What about writing? Well, yes, there has been a lot of that too. I am finding more and more, to both my delight and sometimes frustration, that I dwell a bit into the details; both of characters and general setting descriptions. And so what I thought would only be a one- to one-and-a-half page section turned out to be multiplied by three, or sometimes four, and whilst I've been writing heaps, I've been writing a continuation of the same section, and therefore it slowed the progress of me writing the other, completely different sections.

Take, for example, the section I was working on before, about Michael & Lizzy having a disagreement over dance lessons. Lizzy felt uncomfortable shaking her bootie in front of Michael, the best friend she had sort of grown up with ever since they entered high school.
Now... in my mind, before I wrote a single word about this section, I had envisaged that it would take no more than two sections; one section devoted to the events leading up to the argument (with Lizzy pouting her lips and scolding Michael for dragging her to take dance lessons in the first place, therefore putting her in this awkward situation), and the second one exploring how Michael & Lizzy would navigate around each other in tryin to come up with a compromised, win-win solution.

As I started writing, and continued writing, the number of sections also grew, and I think I was only satisfied when I had written four sections about this incident; one was as described - Lizzy scowling and darting murderous glances to Michael, not wanting to shake her rear end; second was Michael's attempts to 'break down' her resolves, including bringing a white chocolate and raspberry muffin as truce offerings and taking Lizzy into the empty dance studio, putting on an upbeat R&B music they both loved; third section was... ummm... at another dance lesson, with Michael thinking that Lizzy wouldn't show up and he had to be paired up with some stranger to be his dance partner; the fourth section - having recovered from finding Lizzy standing and grinning in front of him, she finally did the booty-shake, with Michael trying hard to keep a straight face as Lizzy had instructed him. There was also the surprise at the end in which the table turned when a male dancer demonstrated a move that would make any masculine man roll his eyes and bolt out of the dance studio, never to return... EVER.

See? Life is never dull around here...

Well... *Blush*

Do you feel that you must seize control, take the initiative and run the show? And if you do, is it because you truly know what to do... or because you fear that someone else hasn't got a clue? Try to be more trusting.

Yes, guilty as charged. I think it is something, first and foremost, that my Mother commented in passing when I was... oh I don't know... 19 years old or so... just before I decided enough was enough and I didn't want to be anywhere near her toxic personality any more.

I have always thought myself as a self-reliant, independent girl. I AVOIDED at all cost getting anyone (ok, except for my eldest sister, because I was closest to her) to drive me and drop me where I have to go, mainly because sitting in the car with my Dad would involve countless amounts of preaching... and no, he is NOT a priest. I have TRIED, with all the willpower that I have, and without chucking the biggest tantrum, for both my parents to let me take the bus, or any other public transport, to and from school, back in Jakarta; something they didn't let me until I reached the last year of Junior High (so Year 9), and by an otopet. I rebelled, and took the bus anyway, and pocketed the savings from not taking an otopet (about 10 times more expensive) to fund my farewell party.

When I moved here, public transport was the most common method of transportation for school kids, and I wholeheartedly embraced getting in a bus every day. When I studied in Uni, I had to catch a bus to the city, took a train to Ipswich, and take another bus from the train station to the campus. I didn't grumble that it took me about... 2 hour each way going to and from Uni - that was my freedom, my time I could do whatever (even catch up on my sleep) without being berated.

And then I met my husband (then boyfriend). Back then, he was working in Townsville, on a fly-in fly-out job. I think he had a two-week on-site, one week off arrangement. And then his contract finished, so he stayed and looked for work that didn't require him to be so far away.

Just like any other couple in their 'honeymoon' phase, Fred dedicated most of his free, non job-hunting time to pick me up from home, drive me to Uni, drive me back home. And one day, my Mother ever-so-considerately (not!) asked "you're not becoming totally dependent on him, are you?"

Can someone tell me how, wanting to spend as much time possible with one's boyfriend, because the environment was (and still is!) much healthier than hanging around your parent's house, be a 'totally dependent' thing? How, being driven from A to B (most times, but NOT all the time) and going out to watch movies and have dinner, become a sign of me losing my frickin' independence?

But it was one thing that stuck in my mind, and consequently, it had a big impact on the way I approached work. I found asking for help, fow the task that has been entrusted to me, as a sign of weakness; a blatant show of my incompetence. The more stressful a situation becomes, the more I 'hoard' my responsibilities, not wanting to relinquish any tasks that could easily be delegated to someone else who isn't as busy, because, in my opinion, by the time I explain to them what I want, it would have been far easier for me to have done it myself.

I have learnt though, from the commencement of this year, that I HAVE to learn how to delegate. My work has become increasingly demanding and if I can palm off the easier tasks such as printing and calling Principals to confirm appointments, so be it.

But there are some things I still am not ready to relinquish... such as assisting with Principal interviews. I guess because it is, in a way, Event Management, something I am totally passionate about. I guess because when it comes to looking after my bosses, I still, to this day, want to make a good impression and portray that I'm capable of everything that's thrown my way. If I can't put out lunches and brew fresh coffee, how am I supposed to do everything slightly more intricate/complicated?

My colleagues told me that delegating is a skill. It's a newly acquired skill - one I need to practice more for me to perfect, but one I have made a start on. Like the star sign forecast said, it all comes down to trust, and I have started on trusting more of people.

Today's Star Sign Forecast...

What would you rather have: wealth or imagination? I'm not suggesting that it is impossible to have both. But... well, let's try another question. Stability? Or inspiration? The same applies here. The two things don't necessarily cancel each other out. But if it had to come down to a straight choice, what would you pick? Life is not about what you've got, it is about how you feel.

I read this as soon as I got to work this morning and almost laughed out loud (well, I did, I guess, on the inside). How appropriate.

My pick, without a doubt, is imagination/inspiration. You would never have guessed it, huh? (Ok, maybe you do...) To me, it's just no question. True, the two things don't necessarily cancel each other out. In fact, at the moment, there has been quite a few happenings at my work, my source of stability rather than 'wealth', that has inspired me to write about it on my novels.

It didn't mean, of course, that from time to time, I wish I could stay at home and write all day; God knows I've so often wished for more hours in a day so that I could fit more writing in, to finish that particular, riveting section that has been brewing in my mind for the past few days instead of leaving it for another day because it was almost midnight and it really is time for beddy-byes.

So yes, if it had to come down to a straight choice, I would give up the sense of wealth in an instant, and pursue the unstabile career of inspiration...

Something Always Brings Me Back To You...

I'm sounding like a broken record here, I know. But I also know that to me, part of the healing process is to put things down, out of my conscience, though never, ever, out of my heart and mind.

I bawled my eyes out tonight... It had been a cultivation from once again missing seeing your face, in person, around work; something that I never thought I'd have to ever worry about - not for a long while.

Most days, I feel fine; I've convinced myself that enough was enough, that was that, it was time to close the door to what had been and move on. But something always knocked me hard in the gut; it could just be the smallest things; a sad, longing lyric of a song; a powerful scene of a movie; a moving passage from a book; and I was pushed so far back, undoing all those steps I thought I've covered.

Yes, I still remember you; it will take me a very long time to get used to the idea that you're gone forever, let alone forget you. Yes, I still can feel your presence around the workplace - one that you've so fondly and so proudly built in such a short time. Yes, I still dig up all those memories of our conversations, no matter how brief, no mater how trivial, no matter that all of them were very much work-related.

I still replayed the memory of that day, parking the car at work and trudging up the steps, ready for another day, ready to greet you if you were already there. I never thought, not in my wildest dreams, to be approached by the Executive Director and one of your close colleagues, both of them looking grim and teary-eyed as they broke the news; that you've suffered a heart attack and passed away overnight.

I kept thinking they were playing a cruel joke on me, even though I knew that the Executive Director wasn't the sort of man who would do such a thing. I kept thinking that it simply wasn't possible; not when I had seen you just the day before, striding across the kitchen, saying hello to me, asking me how my weekend just past had been.

A good friend of yours, one who had recently been appointed Director to continue your legacy, said recently that you would have been disappointed that we all made such a big fuss about you; that, to quote yourself, we should 'eat some concrete and get on with it.' But I do hope you forgive me if I stumble from time to time; if the realisation of losing you hit me like a tonne of brick I could do nothing more than sink to my knees and shed a few grieving tears for you - one of the most wonderful men I've been privileged to know, and care about.

Slow Down... Deep Breath... Take A Lollipop!

That was the little 'mantra' I learnt from a very engaging speaker of the half-day seminar I went to last week, her reasoning being that the phrase 'stop and smell the roses' was a bit out-of-date and you don't stop long enough. Whereby stopping to enjoy a lollipop requires you to fully stop, absorb your surroundings, concentrate on the sucking motion as well as the taste... you get my point.

From time to time (read: lately!), I have piled all things writing on my plate and not enough of everything else. It's self-inflicted, I know... it's the mentality I have of 'I'm not a full-time writer, there are so many ideas and/or inspirations currently surging through my head, I have to have my head down and write it before I forget it or before it slips out of my mind...'

The bad thing about dedicating almost all your waking hours to doing solely one thing, was that I neglected every other aspect of my life; finalising my travel itinerary to the US has been put on hold, my last-minute finishing tidying up touches to my brand new Arts & Crafts room was left collecting dust yet for another day, my exercise only consisted of walking from the bedroom to the lounge room and the arm movements as I write, and write... and write.

So from today, I will try not to pick up that pen and piece of paper immediately after I open my eyes. I will cook dinner and rediscover the joy of clearing my mind whilst doing mundane things such as cutting the vegetables. I will spend more quality time with my husband. I will stop and enjoy that lollipop!

A Love Affair...

No, it is not with another person... it is with something else.

I had a half-day seminar to attend in the city yesterday, and it was a memory that had been long forgotten revived, albeit very short and who knows when I would ever revisit that again.

The job I am in now, working in a suburban office, was the first job I had that wasn't located in the city. And I can't tell you, yesterday, how much I have missed being able to strut along the main part of the mall, queueing to get my favourite Starbucks' coffee, and sitting down to watch the world pass by, writing contentedly with the iTouch plugged in my ear belting out my favourite tunes.

I know, I know, it's not like I don't visit the city from time to time on the weekend; I do. But the weekend crowd has a different feel to it than the weekday crowd; more sluggish, more leisurely, happy to take their time. And from time to time, I do miss that 'charging', vibrant, bustling feeling only weekday crowd could create.

Ahhh... the city.... how I missed thee....

Zodiac Forecasts

I must say that perhaps, these have been somewhat accurate lately. There was a forecast about me not being able to let go (see - Taurean, holding a grudge... shameful as I am to admit, I do sometimes have a tendency not to let go of the simple, somewhat petty things).

This is a back-track, and perhaps a lot of it has more to do with my high expectation rather than anything else. But, in the week leading up to Fred's little brother's 30th birthday, we were approached by Fred's little sister to pitch in for a purchase of a laptop, costing in total $1000.

We flatly refused (and it took every ounce of my being not to bash my head repeatedly against the wall). First, well, you're asking us to fork out in excess of $200 for his birthday. Second, you're asking us to do this less than a week prior to the big day.

On Thursday night, we received a call from Fred's Mum.... you guessed it. She was trying to get us to pitch in again. It turned out Fred's older brother and his family, who had just returned from a 2-week holiday in Japan, didn't want to pitch in either (I wonder why), which meant each of us would have had to fork out MORE money. Fred flatly refused.

On Friday, we received an email from said little sister asking if we're coming to dinner to celebrate said birthday. There has been NO communication about dinner whatsoever, apart from the fact that they were thinking that it would be SUNDAY LUNCH, and all of a sudden, "are you coming?" Coming WHERE?

I don't know which fact infuriated me more... the fact that we were being told at the last minute, expected to drop everything we have planned because they believed that this was the sort of dependable couple we were, or the fact that Fred didn't see the point of picking up that armour and shield and at the very least said "I had no idea about dinner on Friday night" to his little sister.

And so I grumbled and whinged and screamed and pouted my lips at the whole situation; at the fact that Fred's family seemed to think that they could walk all over us; at the lack of clear communication and feeling that everyone would think we're the bad guys; at the fact that every single one of Fred's family members think the world only revolved around them.

Contrary to what I've set out at the beginning of the year to try and salvage my relationship with my in-laws, I found myself washing my hands off, almost completely, from every single one of Fred's family. I know, perhaps this isn't the most conducive solution, but I honestly couldn't put myself where I was during the early years of my marriage with Fred, when I looked forward to visiting and spending time with Fred's Mum and Dad; when I had very little problem and objections to spending half, to a whole day, chatting with his older brother's family and playing with my niece and nephew. Now, I cringed and found myself trying to find every possible excuse to not go, and when I did get there, I found myself counting each passing minute, wanting to bolt out of there.

So it's time to let go, and the only thing could think of to do this, is to grit my teeth, don't sweat the small stuff (read: let Fred deal with his family - after all, it is HIS family), be civil when I'm around them, and return to the sanctuary that is my home, my life separate from them, my writing, my husband; the right family member I'm married to.

How Much Stock Do You Put On Your Zodiac?

My Dad hated this with a vengeance. So much so he discouraged any of his family member from even reading the daily forecasts 'floating' around in magazines and the world wide web.

 I don't believe in it 100% - I certainly don't live by it, worrying how my day would turn out and cursing the thing if the stated predictions didn't come to fruition.

 But I don't deny some of the research and findings that had gone in the name of astrology, either; I can't, really, when I can identify some of the traits that are uniquely Taurean (strong-willed, somewhat resentful, conservative); when I see a lot of what the in-depth research has uncovered about Taurean born between certain dates in my response to and behaviour in certain situation. And however you want to argue about it, the books were written and published long before I got a hold of it, and by that time, my personalities were already developed, mould-free from how I should behave according to that said book.

 So I thought it'd be fun to post a daily forecast for my star sign and see how my day turned out in comparison to the prediction.

Mmmm.... Risotto!

I've always loved risotto, but had a disastrous time creating my own. They were either too gluggy, too hard, or just taste plain ol' weird. And so I had stopped making risotto and trusted the expert chefs to dish me risotto from time to time.

I had the itch the last time I was sick and had to take two days off (see about me not being able to slow down??), and found this basic, easy-enough recipe for a chicken and mushroom risotto (two of my favourite ingredients - surely that can't go wrong).

Well, it didn't! It actually worked out beautifully I repeatedly (lamely, I might add) pat myself on the back as to how tasty it was.

I made this again last night - it was good to have 'surplus' of chicken breast pieces that you're not sure what to do with. I did have a bit of a panic moment because the rice wasn't turning soft until literally the last spoonful of the chicken stock, but crisis averted, and now I have quite a few batches freezing for lunches/dinners.

Mmm... risotto... I think I might have to dig up some MORE recipes to try out.

Can I Start the Day Over?

I've become rather... proficient in letting small things slide right off me; no, actually, I've become quite good in not letting the miniscule, petty things not get to me, knowing that most of the time, the grumble and whinges from the other end of the line came from their own pent-up frustrations and by no means not directed at me.

But two continuous days trying to negotiate my way through totally inflexible group of people, being bombarded with nothing but shortness and 'who-gives-a-f*ck' attitude, coming from those whom I thought *should* (emphasise the 'should' here) have more compassion than others, I find myself, at 9 in the morning today, wanting to turn back time and start the day over and do certain things differently (or rather, avoid doing certain things altogether).

I guess I'm feeling just a tad emotional than my usual self today...

Something I've Learnt About Myself...

I honestly don't know how to slow down. It's not that I haven't tried, it's just... I am simply not capable of it.

I had a head cold from.... Wednesday last week; the sniffle, the coughing, the head pounding. But, it was a head cold, so I thought I didn't have to succumb to being on bed rest and taking some time off work.

Well, well, well, my body had other ideas, it seemed. On Thursday, I woke up not being able to lift my head off the pillow, feeling as if I had been hit by a bus. So I took a day off, hoping I would get LOTS of sleep and recover to get back to work the very next day.

And what did I do? My tummy grumbled, protesting at the lack of food at 9AM. So off the bed I was and searched for food. By the time I finished eating, I was feeling marginally more alive that my brain was already working overtime with all the plots and sub-plots of both Micahel & Lizzy and Evelyn novels.

I felt really tired by 2:30PM that I decided to hit the sack again, but my eyes refused to stay shut for long, my brain thought it was dead fun to keep working whilst I was trying to wade my way to the oblivion, my cheekbones hurt like hell I was almost in the brink of tears from exasperation.

Friday rolled over and my body well and truly told me to get some rest, even if it wasn't sleeping. I wrote, in excess of 10 pages over the past 2 days, reaching milestone upon milestone for my Evelyn novel. I slept at 5:30 in the morning, only to wake up 5 hours later, and ready to do it again, despite the throbbing of my numb fingers. I grumbled and whinges at the fact that Sunday night came way too soon and I had to go back to work on Monday.

Well, at least I can't whinge to anyone for not having any time to write... *sigh*

In the Early Hours of My 30th...

I look back to the years that had been; to the events that had shaped my life; to the convictions that helped me become the person I am today.

Thanks to you (as twisted as that sounds), I knew what it felt like to grow up under a set of toxic, over-protective, over-bearing parents. Not that I would ever condone 'talking back' with no aim other than trying to hurt the other person, but living under your roof had taught me, first and foremost, to suppress whatever emotion I was feeling, whatever differing opinion I had on a subject matter.

I grew up being fearful, both of you and of the consequences of disagreeing with you. For the longest time, I was Miss Goody-Two-Shoes, who wasn't willing to do anything out of the ordinary for fear of evoking your wrath. I mean, who would scream blue murder for two straight days, berating me for not completing my chores by going to a movie with my older sister? When I was... fourteen? Fifteen? Sixteen?

I had lived, being in constant terror, tiptoeing around both of you and being your sounding board when you fought with your spouse for nineteen years, until every fibre in my being rebelled and contracted and something in my mind said "No more! You're driving me insane!"

I have lived over a decade after that tasting the freedom I should have tasted long before I'm nearing twenty, able to grow up the way other, more normal people would; doing everything that in your eyes were total ungratefulness to those who have put me in this world in the first place. I discovered the excitement of going to a night club, having a few drinks, and dancing. Not wasted, not having a bluddy hangover that see me chained to the toilet retching; they were the things I've sworn I'd never get myself into; things you've never trusted me enough not to do, nor decide for myself.

I do miss... well, what I miss is the dream rather than your persona, really; I long from time to time to have a parent figure I can turn to when I feel like my husband isn't enough to be my boxing bag, or when I want to rant and vent about him (as much as I love him dearly). Every now and then I wish I could have had one of those wonderful relationships with either one of you. I hear stories of people just dropping in at their parents' house to have lunch, go shopping with their Mothers, have their Dads come over to fix... whatever, and I just smile and think  "how nice." Most of all, I wish for just one happy memory I can hold on to, one I can keep looking back to fondly and put a smile on my face; one thing that outweighed all the hardships I've had to endure.

But I can now accept the fact that I don't have that. I rarely look back, because doing so would only make me wallow in the pain and anguish, of reliving the memories that my childhood seemed to have been filled, largely, with hysterical cries and sobs. I no longer have dreams that woke me in the dead of the night with cold sweat dampening my skin, or tears running down my cheeks, or both. And I no longer wish for things I can never have; your approval over my actions, your proud smile over my accomplishments, your support when I feel like I'm dropping the balls of life-commitments I have to juggle.

It has taken me a while, but I am finally at peace with myself. I no longer hear your scolding voice resonating so disapprovingly in my conscience; I finally discover that putting myself first doesn't equate to being selfish. I am now able to say 'No' when I need to without feeling guilty, without seeing it as a sign of utter disobedience, able to be assertive without fear of being excluded/ex-communicated/get into trouble.

I can proudly admit that, looking back over the past decade as I reached this wonderful milestone, I have finally found myself; finally know who I really am and the kind of person I want to be. My accomplishments have been many, my mistakes I have been able to learn from, my life has turned out exactly the way I've hoped and planned. As I go about my day, on my 30th birthday, I can honestly say that I am proud of myself, and am content to say that that knowledge alone, is enough.

Repeat After Me...

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit
Crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap
Damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn

I have, by pure accident, deleted my whole ‘Evelyn’ folder.

I have a Mac at home, and Windows at work. So when I work on my Mac, and then put my USB stick into the port of the laptop at work, it has... well, I guess corrupt files (I’m knowledgeable enough about technology, but not that knowledgeable).

So, as usual, I’d select those corrupt files and delete them. Not just put it in the Recycle Bin, but actually pressed the 'Delete' button. Well... apparently, without realising, I’ve also selected the non-corrupted Evelyn folder and deleted them entirely.

Lucky, I guess, that there were only 2 versions in there. Lucky, too, I guess, that I do have a back-up at home, though by no means that this back up is up-to-date to the one that’s on the USB stick.

So.... methinks I will be updating Evelyn the novel on the weekend... I am SO so so so thankful that I have a hand-written hard copy to refer to, otherwise you would have seen me bawling my eyes out inconsolably!

The Therapeutic Power of Cooking...

I go through phases with cooking; there are times when my mind is filled with everything I want to cook, or  recipes I want to try out. I find myself rummaging through every recipe books I have, or even going on the Internet to download new recipes. I commit myself to doing up a sometime comprehensive shopping list, imagining myself being 'chained' to the kitchen, assuming the identity of a modern Betty Crocker (minus the apron), and whipping up these wonderful-looking dishes.

Other times, I see cooking, with all its preparations, from peeling garlic skins and thinly slicing them, from chopping up the vegetables and meat, from browning the chicken and then transferring them to the oven, something that would last up to one hour, nothing but a nuisance; a distraction, and even a waste of my time; the time I could spend doing other, more productive things.

But today, I was determined to cook a few meals to last us throughout the week. Perhaps it has a lot to do with the fact that tomorrow is a public holiday for me, but not for my husband, and I am always filled with ideas as to how to spend my time alone the most productive way.

And so I found myself mincing about 9 garlic cloves, chopping onions and various vegetables, trying to reinvent my own version of garlic prawns recipe - nothing like the ones I order and devour from the Chinese restaurants, but a good substitute nonetheless if I do say so myself. And I must admit, that there is something therapeutic in doing repetitive motion of putting knife through carrots and beans; the kind that numbs and cleanses the mind; the kind that unblocks it of all its problems and give me useful chatters and inspirations for my novels.

Change of Scenery...

Sometimes we get so comfortable with habit, so comfortale with one particular setting. We dread a change, because we might not know what it would bring, whether it would be beneficial for us, whether or not it would mean things would get worse.

But a change of scenery could be just what the doctor ordered; a diferent seting could just be what the mind needed to unleash, to explore freely, to appreciate things from a slightly different angle, to see life from a totally new perspective.

You think I'm gonna say somehting along the lines of me packing my bags and moving somewhere else, don't you? Well, it's not. It really is a simpler thing of removing yourself from the lounge room you've been sitting at and staring at the TV for the past 30 hours or so and parking yourself into another room in the house. It's about picking up that rug you've recently rediscovered, crocheting a few double crochets, and emptying your mind in the process. It is about taking in your new surroundings, and the wonder that comes with it. And it is about embracing the divine inspirations flooding through your mind because of it, rewiring your centre so that you can once again, appreciate the bigger picture and utilise the talents you have been endowed upon.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back...

That's how I feel lately.

At the risk of being totally lame, this post is, once again, about me grieving over the loss of you, our beloved Director. Nearing two months of your passing, I still can't wrap my head around the fact that you will be gone far longer than if someone was taking long service leave.

I've stopped looking for your car in the carpark - I guess that's something. At one stage, I thought I had accepted the fact that you will never be coming back (though I am still hoping for a miracle!). That the only thing that will remind me of you are the memories I have of you, and the photos we have put up around the place. But something, and don't ask me what that something was, knocked me back and I am, once again, in a state of denial and disbelief, the way I have been ever since I heard of that shocking news.

Perhaps a lot has to do with the upheaval that followed after your sudden passing. The Acting Director appointed to take your place, one of my bosses with whom I have built a wonderful relationship with, had also fallen ill and had to take 3 weeks off work. His replacement was... well... nothing like him, I guess, and it hit me like a tonne of brick how in the course of six weeks, so many changes have happened in such little time and none of us was prepared for it.

I don't wanna sound like I'm blaming you - God knows that you will probably be giving Him a good amount of ear-bashing, calling you to eternal life way too early. I have heard some people say that it was a good thing that your colleagues were chatting and laughing again - a sure sign that we are all moving on with our life without your presence. I, on the other hand, still feels like the opposite - that by laughing and joking around, we are moving forward, leaving you behind, forgetting you... Irrational, I know.

I know that my grief was nothing compared to that of your wife and two kids - I can only imagine how deep their sense of loss was, and still is. But I will say this: that I still miss you; that I am still half-hoping that you will waltz in through the front door and greet everyone, giving all of us that crooked smile and said "Surprise!"; that every day, I wake up and for that split of a second, thought that the reality was nothing but a bad dream, and the memory of you was the wonderful reality.

100...

Pages!

That's the milestone the Evelyn novel reached this morning! And so, in celebration style, I thought I'd give a little excerpt. This is sort of a reunion scene between Evelyn and her ex-boyfriend...

He had abandoned his station before fully realising it, moving almost soundlessly across the divide of the lounge room, his hand itching to purposely slither across her stomach, the way he had done countless times… before.

“Still taking your coffee white with one sugar?” Evelyn asked, head cocked to one side, both eyes still trained on the pouring hot water.

You remember! Nicholas rejoiced silently, his heart fluttering with giddiness he couldn’t fathom he almost couldn’t refrain from leaping across to hug her tight.

He repressed the notion, though the fluttering in his stomach grew a thousand times more powerful as, receiving the proffered white porcelain mug, the tips of his fingers had lightly brushed her curled knuckles.

He kept both eyes trained on her as they quietly sipped their hot drinks, in her eyes were the same nostalgic expression he was currently feeling; having both come from such highly demanding jobs, always travelling to all four corners of the world to deal with circumstances that were sometimes so far fetched to be comprehended by the minds of ordinary civilians, they had revelled in the rare chances of performing simple tasks every normal human being had undertaken as part of their routine.

“Supposed we’d better get back to it?” Evelyn suggested, gesturing to the scattered papers covering the surrounds of the lounge room carpet with a slight tilt of her head.

She reached out, wanting to take way the mug from his grasp. Instead, she found her hand tightly clasped in his, her back, already pressed to where the two corners joined on the L-shaped bench, preventing her from moving away as Nicholas stepped closer.

“I want to know why,” he demanded, standing no greater than half-an-inch before her.

“Nick…” She implored.

“I deserve to know why,” he corrected himself. “And that note doesn’t count.”

A light crimson colour rose to Evelyn’s cheeks, moments before she ducked her head down, concealing her face from his close examination.

Aware that she was about to walk out two weeks before their one year anniversary, her guilt and remorse compounded by the realisation that despite her haunted past, their relationship had actually bloomed and thrived, Evelyn flung the door she was about to close wide open, strode back in and wrote a hasty note.

It’s not you. It’s me. Forget me, Nick. You deserve to move on with your life.

Welcome Back, My Friend...

You've been away from my mind for far too long than I would have liked you to.

I am, of course, talking about my mojo - my writing mojo, to be exact. After the mentioned dry spell about two posts ago, I found myself sitting on the dining table on Friday night, vigorously writing without a care in the world whilst Fred was fixing my Mac. It was an exercise that didn't see me hit the sack until 3 the following morning, but by then, I have already managed to cross off two sections of my list.

By the time Sunday rolled over (yes, am still loving that expression), I was well and truly in my element, writing almost as fast as the inspiration would bounce around in my head, ignoring Arnie's battle with 'Predator' (not that I was watching it in the first place anyway...)

And, because I don't work in a linear process whatsoever, I am currently working on sections that aren't listed on the 'Penned Mission' (soon to be rectified). And am hoping, that this will continue for a bit and that I will be able to make a significant dent on Evelyn's novel.

I am...

Stumbled upon this from Casa Del Talimack and thought I'd give it a go...


Outside my window... It’s not exactly my window, it’s work’s window I’m gazing at, and I can see clear blue sky with tree leaves ‘dancing’ against the wind.

I am thankful for... the fact that I am actually being given another day to make the most out of life.

I am wearing... a long top I bought in Jakarta, calf-length jeans and black-heeled open-toed shoes.

I am remembering... the Director of this Centre, taken away from us way too quickly a month ago. RIP Neil.

I am creating... calendar appointments for my bosses’ school visits.

I am going... quietly insane at the thought that there are so many things to do and not enough time in a day to do it...

I am reading... Lonely Planet’s guide book to New York.

I am hoping... that I can move into my new Arts & Crafts room by this weekend.

On my mind... is a million things bombarding me all at once; will less than five months enough time to summarise the NY book, when am I ever gonna finish my novels, I need more time in a day to declutter our entire house, who’s the new Director for the centre going to be. Just to name a few...

From the kitchen... I hear nuttin’!

Around the house... Is a bomb site - everything that needs to be sorted and rearranged – currently there is a queen bed and frame standing in the middle of our family room!

One of my favourite things... is my iTouch – can’t live without it no more.

Noticing that... You gain more energy by exercising.

Pondering these words... ‘when one door closes, another opens’

A Darker Turn...

I am slowly (say that very slowly, pun intended) getting back to my writing, though for reason(s) I can't fully fathom, my inspiration doesn't seem to 'stick' in my brain for long and I have, lately, more often than not, scrambling for a brilliant idea I had had just a moment ago only to stare blankly at the blank paper.

I am currently focussing heavily on the 'Evelyn' novel (huffing slightly here because it means I'm neglecting Michael & Lizzy, which was... oh-so-close to being wrapped up). And Evelyn turned out to be the darkest novel I've ever attempted so far.

Not witchcraft stuff, I don't think I'd ever dwelve into that genre. But, compared to Eleanor and Elizabeth, my previous main characters, Evelyn had the darkest, most haunted past. Her profession was one that required her to be fit and able to take a punch (I hope I didn't give away too much there...), as well as delivering one back. And as a consequence, I find myself searching deep into the soul of a villain, researching the various ways he could inflict the most unimaginable pain to his targeted victim. I find myself thinking of synonyms of 'sending a blow', refusing to write 'punch' and 'kick' for the umpteenth time.

Going... Going... GONE!!!!

Since the beginning of this year, I have been working on my query letter to be sent to literary agents, hoping that one of them would be interested in considering the full manuscript and get it published.

Since the beginning of this year, work has been full-on that only now, I have been able to draw full breaths again and revisit said letter.

So, today... I've finally finished and can honestly say I'm quite happy with what I've written. And with the touch of a button, that letter is sitting in an agent's inbox.

I don't have any high expectations, this being my first attempt and all. Or rather, I do, but I am also being realistic about the fact that only a handful of people get overnight success and my track record so far indicates I'm not one of them. Not that I mind...

So with that, the only thing I can say is... 'Wish Me Luck!'

Returning to Some Semblance of Normalcy...

I liked this quote one of my Area Supervisors have written in light of our Director's recent, unexpected passing:

Life is forever changed, but we are moving on, one day at a time.

It is so eloquent, and I can't put it any better than that. It's like carrying a wound that had scraped your skin, the sting of it gradually becoming less and less, but the new, recovered tissue is still rough and tender; not yet fully healed.

I also wrote to another Principal that life is slowly (and I say this with emphasis) getting back on track, though I think it will be a little while to fully let the realisation sink in and not keep expecting the Director to walk around the office, not to hear his voice; for me not to personally seek him out each time I walk in.

But things are returning to some semblance of normalcy, believing that a) life, as demonstrated by his sudden passing, is too short to stay stagnant and for anyone to dwell in the negatives, b) he himself wouldn't want any of us to stay grieving for all eternity, and c) that one day, we will see him again.

With that, I've revived certain forgotten, momentarily-pushed-aside passions in my life. I've gone back onto the healthy diet wagon, finding myself trawling through websites for new recipes. I've started waking up at the same time again (or even earlier), finding solace in doing mundane things such as emptying the dishwasher before I have to go to work. I've put down my pen for a while, finding that there is excitement to be had simply by ironing your clothes and watching TV. And today, that the sun is finally shining, I might just go on that bike ride after work...

There Is A Numbness In My Heart...

And a gaping hole ever since I learnt of your sudden, unexpected passing.

I feel a bit foolish crying over the loss of you, a Director. But when it comes right down to it, you are everything, and anything but. Perhaps it was the fact that I've worked with you for the past 2.5 years before you were appointed as a Director. Perhaps it was the fact that in all that time, you have never once treated me, or other Secretaries, as a small, insignificant person you'd give only the mediocre, menial tasks to complete. Perhaps, having gone to several team dinners, able to get to know not only you outside work capacity, but also your lovely wife, and subsequently heard about your family, I've come to see you more of as a colleague and a friend.

I can't wrap my head around the fact that you were 'gone'. I kept driving to work, thinking that I'd see your car already parked there. I kept walking around the office, half-hoping I'd bump into you, or that you'd turn around the corner and said 'Hi' on your way to talk to the other Area Supervisors. I kept wishing that you'd crack a joke at me, call me 'Queen of' something rather, the way you always did. But all I saw around me was shrines - photos of you smiling, flower arrangements people have sent in to the office as a token of their condolences, Powerpoint presentations looping on and on, displaying the prayers we've cited for your 'Memorial Service'.

You will live on in my heart - you're far too significant not to. And it will take me a while to get used to the idea that you aren't going to be around, greeting each and every one of us in the morning, saying goodbye in the evening before you go home, telling us to do the same. You remained to me a wonderful, inspiring individual, and I will miss you oh so dearly.

High School Crush

I didn't have one of those. Ok, I'll rephrase. I had some of those, back in high school, but:
a) I never acted on it.
b) It was very rare that my feelings actually got reciprocated.

Unlike some of the other female friends I used to know in high school, I didn't have many 'boyfriends' during my high school years. And I certainly was too afraid to do half of the things they were doing, like flaunting my affection in front of the whole school population, because my strict, overbearing parents would, no joke, kill me and the guy I've agreed to go out with.

Which is probably why I am having so.... much... fun with the current Evelyn story. She and her high school boyfriend have developed into such a cute couple it seemed like a pity to end their budding relationship, necessary as it might be.

So this is the first look of my brand new novel, also the first excerpt of 2010.

She wandered aimlessly through the busy narrow corridors, her pace slowing as approaching her locker, she found Eric Perkins leaning against it, his thumb busily flipping through pages of…
He straightened himself up and snapped the book shut, handing it back to her; the notebook she’d spent almost half-a-day figuring out the best way to retrieve it.
Almost out of its own accord, her hand moved, taking the offered end of the foolscap whilst Eric didn’t loosen his firm grip on the other end.
“About earlier…” Evelyn began, and stopped; her teeth chomping nervously on the inside of her lower lip.
“Yes?” Eric replied, head pushed forward as far as it could, a look of utter intrigue painted on his face.
“Eric, surely you know that… a hockey team member and a nobody was…”
“Unusual?” Eric suggested.
“Unheard of.”
Eric released his clutch on her notebook, arms criss-crossing around his middle, eyes flicking from her head to her toe, taking in her timid appearance, sizing her; a glint of mischief lighting his eyes.
“We could create history,” Eric remarked casually.
Evelyn released her breath noisily, one brow shooting up exasperatedly.
“Look, Evelyn,” Eric said before she could open her mouth to utter a single word of protest, “it’s simple. I like you. How do you feel about me?”
Evelyn opened and closed her mouth without making a single sound, eyes popping wide they were in danger of rolling out of its sockets, her throat moving up and down as she gulped visibly.
‘How was the kiss?’ Cecille’s question rang back in her ears.
She had tried so very hard to push the incident to the far corner of her mind, believing that it was a one-off kiss, never to be repeated, the tips of her fingers now running lightly along the curve of her lower lip, tingling in memory of that… wonderfully amazing kiss, his lips soft against her own, parting hers, the curves fitting snugly like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
“Am I… really… that horrible?” Eric asked, his face falling a little, taking her silence as a sign of rejection.
“No,” Evelyn answered adamantly. She lifted her gaze to him, for the first time truly paying full attention at him, not only as a hockey player most girls, including, if she wanted to be honest, her, idolised, but also as someone she could potentially get to know closely; become intimate with; the mere thought of calling Eric Perkins her ‘boyfriend’ was enough to send her mind spinning.
“I don’t know,” Evelyn said at last, shaking her head vigorously upon seeing Eric’s face paling. “I mean… I don’t really know how I feel about you,” she elaborated, answering his original question. “I’ve never given that much thought about the possibility that someone like you would want to go out with… someone like me.”
Using the locker he had been leaning against as a springboard, Eric drew himself up to his full five-foot-eleven height, and with both arms encircled around her waist, drew her close until her upper body was hard-pressed to his stomach.
"Start giving it a thought,” Eric whispered, a twinkle of mischief lighting his blue eyes. Dipping his head to the left, he kissed her again, his lips aggressive and ardent against hers, thus sealing their status as the newest item of Falls Creek High.

Jumping for Joy!

I would do so, literally, if it wasn't 10:20 at night and my eyes weren't this droopy, my muscles weren't aching, wanting sleep.Look at the 'Penned' section - Michael & Lizzy I. The section I had had to write about was the final section required to complete the book. That's right, with the last full stop I typed for the section, I have finished Michael & Lizzy I.

Hear that sound? That's me, sighing blissfully, knowing that I only have to fill up the 'holes' for Michael & Lizzy II and III. Oh yeah... and the 'Evelyn' novel, but let's not scare the brain away.

And with that, I think I will reward myself with that much needed sleep I crave for.

It's Bold... It's Brash...

It's February - the month of Chinese New Year and Valentine's Day, so I've decided to give my blog a bright revamp and go with the rustic red and gold theme.

Houston... We Have Lift Off!

Don't get me wrong, I do love my husband - I really, really do. But from time to time, he who currently is trying to complete his Diplome of Financial Planning, told me that he would be ignoring me most of the weekend and go into overdrive study mode.

And so I, naturally, rejoiced and went into overdrive writing mode myself. And over the course of one weekend, Evelyn, the current name for my new novel, came to fruition. And there are quite a few things I've forgotten about starting a new novel from scratch; the anticipation of watching the number of pages grow from 1 to 13, much like seeing the growth and new things develop with each ultrasound pictures you receive of your baby inside you; the joy of watching these characters develop their own personalities, much like watching your child grow up from newborn to toddlerhood.

So far, it's actually quite beneficial working on two projects at the same time, because I can actually bounce off what 'didn't' happen with Michael & Lizzy to Evelyn, so to speak. I'll elaborate a little. From time to time, I've been wanting to do a version of Michael & Lizzy I in which they actually became an item for a little while, and something happened in which they had to break up. I've managed to convince myself not to pursue this particular story line, persistently hanging on to the notion that they will have failed relationships with other people, but when they finally get together, their relationship will stick.

So, lo and behold, this story becomes a major developing story line for Evelyn, currently forging a relationship with her high school crush. It won't be long-lasting, but I assure you that they will have a good time while it lasted.

Oh No... What Have I Done?

I am, by and large, a sucker for punishment, I think...

In the last entry I have written that there is another story brewing in my mind... and yesterday, I can no longer deny it; I've started writing a significant section of this new story.

So... can I introduce to you a bunch of new characters, totally separate from the Michael & Lizzy saga. This new story revolves around a character named Evelyn Campbell, the youngest in her family, but by no means a spoilt brat. She has had to (surprise surprise!) go through some life-defining events, and her current profession will reflect this (I might keep her profession a surprise for now...)

There will also be Nicholas Walker, the main male character you will learn more about as this story progresses. Eric Perkins, Evelyn's high school's crush. And Donny Morgan, the not-so-pleasant guy. And a whole bunch of other people like Evelyn's and Nicholas' family, friends and bosses I have names of but don't know how they will develop as yet...

Savouring the Little Things...

I now work in a new place - same organisation, but new office. It's closer to home - I have literally cut my travelling time almost in half - 22 minutes compared to 40-45 minutes.

To that end, I have vowed to myself that I will still wake up at a reasonable time in the morning instead of having extra time sleeping in (hard, I know, considering how much I savour sleep!). I can't tell you how much of a difference having an extra 15-20 minutes in the morning make in my life, how much I have begun, and will continue to savour the little things like being able to load the dishwasher, or fold a bit of laundry before I go out the door; or dusting the whole house as soon as I get home.

Life will never be the same again from this year onwards... I am planning 'so much' more to over the coming months now that I am able to 'pace' the chores throughout the week instead of piling them up for the weekend :)

Dilemma...

Life has been rather busy of late that my brain was, more often than not, it shut down as soon as I got home from work.

But it did receive a healthy dose of aphrodisiac on the weekend, and it was one that had left me... well... a bit unsure as to which path to take.

I guess I could no longer deny that I am, well and truly, a writer (even if none of my works are currently published). Imagination and creativity are now well and truly running through my veins, dominating any other type of creativity I used to crave and nurture (scrapbooking, cardmaking, crochet, long stitch).

As you know, I am currently in the middle of trying to finish Michael & Lizzy I-III, filling in the holes; each of the novels are currently about 80% done.

I have had bouts of inspiration coming and going lately about... *gulp* my next book. In a nutshell, this is about a female secret agent (I did write earlier that my story would always revolve around a heroine, right?) who has had some troubled past affecting her current and future decisions. And on the weekend just past, I kept having the strongest urge to write the most significant sections of this yet-to-be-named characters.

I am in two minds about pursuing another storyline. On one hand, I have read from interviews of some of my favourite authors, that working on multiple projects simultaneously keep them from having writer's block. Plus, first-hand experience has taught me that when I write something, anything substantial, other things fall into place; further sub-plots develop in my head; more inspirations appear in my mind.

On the other hand, I am very reluctant to add more to my plate; perhaps, was I an author full-time instead of sporadic, writing-frantically-in-my-spare-time writer, I could afford to do this. But... *shrug* I don't know... if I start working on the new, unnamed project, Michael & Lizzy will stall. And I know that at one stage, I will get so frustrated that I have two unfinished projects rather than one.

Decisions... decisions...

Waterworks...

My parents used to ridicule me when I was little every time I showed any emotion to the movie I was watching; most of the time, I cry at soapy movies, at some cheesy lines; less often, I feel rage burning inside me to see some injustice portrayed in the big screen.

Growing up, I seemed to not have gotten out of the habit. Not that I learn from this, judging from the expression on my darling husband's face when I busily wiped away my tears using the back of my hand or palms instead of having a sachet of tissue always ready every time I went to the movie with him. If anything, it seems to have gotten worse; it's not unusual for me to shed a tear watching an actress deliver their acceptance speech after winning an Oscar, especially if said actress was blubbering herself; and, from time to time, I have been known to get a little bit teary watching a wonderful choreography from 'So You Think You Can Dance' number, or simply listening to some powerful song lyric.

Today, I watched 'Invictus', starring Matt Damon and Morgan Freeman. It's based on a true story about Nelson Mandela, newly elected South African president, barracking for the South African rugby team to be part of the 1995 World Cup; a team that comprised mostly of Caucasian Englishmen either born or raised or migrated to South Africa.

The following part contains SPOILER of the movie so if you are planning to watch the movie later on and don't want to know what happened at the very end yet, stop reading now!

The team not only made it to Rugby World Cup, they ended up winning. And at the very end scene, these 'white' hands were lifting the cup trophy up high in the air... and this black hand crept up - belonging from the only black player in the team. And I BAWLED!

I know, I know... the real reason I bawled was because I had a soft spot for liberation, for unity between men and women from all walks of life, regardless of race, colour, and appearance. But, for God's sake... this is, essentially, SPORT! Rough, dirty, grubby, manly occasion, and I was crying.

Perhaps calling me a hopeless case is not all that unwarranted...

If I Could Sum Up What I Wish For 2010...

It would be to have a more balanced life. As my reflection of 2009 has suggested, I focussed almost 90-95% of my passion and energy into work and writing that I've managed to neglect almost every other facet in my life.

So here are some of the things I want to achieve in a nutshell this year.

1. I really want to repair and reconcile with my in-laws. As much as a lot of things have happened last year that has made me thrown the towel and feel absolutely bitter towards each and every single one of them, they are in essence the only family I have now and I don't want to lose them. A lot of work needs to go into this, and the biggest thing is to keep talking to my darling husband as when I cracked it last year, a big part of the meltdown also boiled down from the fact that I was the one 'trying' to be the perfect daughter-in-law and husband was just commending me of my efforts without actually pitching in himself.

2. I am going to try to be healthier; that means making home-made meals more often, and not only that, but ensuring that I make well-balanced meals. I want to make sure that I go back to eating smaller portions. I want to make sure I allocate some time to actually exercise, be it doing a 30-minute power-walk on my lunch break or biking after work. I am actually quite excited about the fact that I will have that much more time on my hands with the shorter commuting time to and from work. I am so looking forward to having my grocery shopping done on my lunch break (coz the nearest shopping centre is practically on my doorstep).

3. I need to constantly remind myself that writing is not the be all and end all; that there are times when having a break from it is actually a good idea. That reading is just as effective in unblocking your mind and gaining new sets of inspiration; that watching a DVD with your husband is not a crime; that you don't owe the characters anything; that the deadlines I set are my deadlines and not the publishers, and my life doesn't depend on it (YET!).

4. I want to finish my TESOL assignments and get the first TESOL certificate. I signed up for this 2 years ago, with the view of spending a year in Jakarta teaching English. Whilst that dream is no longer applicable, the set of skills I gain from completing the qualifications are, and it seems like a waste having it half-done.

5. I want to try get Eleanor I published. It doesn't mean I want the book published this year, but it means that even if I send out my query letters to agents and get fifty rejection letters back, I have made that step forward.

6. And lastly, I want this year to keep reconnecting with the friends I've made from last year and over the years; I want to make time for them - to see them and talk to them on a regular basis.