Rediscovery
POSTED AT 10:40 AM

After how many months of slaving over books and letting the past summer vacation slip away while we sat through lectures, I initially thought that we needed a break. Badly.

So we had a break and it was heaven...for the first few days. I mean, come on. Who doesn't love waking up without an alarm shaking off your stupor? But then it just got really, really boring. Even even with the DSL and piles of DVD series I have lying around, I get easily restless. I guess I'm just not used to being so dormant anymore, and I think I know a few people who share the same sentiments.

But that's not the point. ANYWAY. So, when one gets bored, one gets creative and always finds something to occupy the time with, and I whiled mine away by reading books that are in no way related to Nursing. Instead of new clothes, I leave malls with a shopping bag from Power Books, Book Sale or Fully Booked. (Yes, yes there is no need to point out that I am a geekette and that the ebola virus in quarantine has a better social life than I do.)

My most recent purchase is, as is obvious from my recent review, Cassandra Clare's debut novel. But no, this post is not about the book.

I first encountered Cassandra Clare in Schnoogle.com as the author of one of my favorite fanfiction stories of all time, The Draco Trilogy. I had been a fan of hers from the very beginning, and I followed her work as religiously as I followed the the genuine HP series.

So imagine my surprise and delight when I learned that she was working on a book that is all her own. I have a copy of that book in my hands now. I opened it, and couldn't stop reading until I finished it. It was a myriad of emotions after I finished it, mainly because it was one of the best reads I've had in a long time.

But ultimately, after I finished reading and set it down, I felt insanely jealous.

I was, or am, jealous of her talent, of the research and dedication she put into the book, of her name printed below the title of the novel that came organically from her. I am jealous of the fact that she was once just a Fanfiction writer, like I am (although, with a vast difference in skill), and now people are writing fanfiction on her novels. I am jealous that she gets to do what she loves to do for a living. From what I've read so far, her novel is not a far cry from her work on the internet, so I can safely say that she's not being forced to write something that she does not want to write. I am jealous of her, like I am jealous of Jessica Zafra. She's officially and professionally a writer, something that I really, trully want to be.

I want to be that kind of writer, like her, and Rowling and Gaiman. The kind that stimulates the imaginations of many, the kind that people write fanfiction about and have debates on the internet for. I want to be the kind of writer that can make kids ignore the TV and pick up books again, can make boys who think girls have cooties read stories with a female protagonist just because the story is so kick-ass, and can make adults feel young again.

I want to be like Shakespeare, whose works are so timeless that up until now, people are remaking it and modernizing it, but still keeping the original context. i want to be like Jane Austen, who probably invented the sub-genre of love-hate romance. I want to be like Tolkien, whose work is a mythology on its own.

I wouldn't mind if I won't make it to Literary history, nor if none of my stories become a movie. I just want to write and be read and inspire. I just want to be a writer.

God I just want to be a writer.

...

Aaaand I think I just stole that last line from one of Angelo Suarez's poems. Whoops.

Apparently, I'm Insane
POSTED AT 10:53 AM

You are The Moon

Hope, expectation, Bright promises.

The Moon is a card of magic and mystery - when prominent you know that nothing is as it seems, particularly when it concerns relationships. All logic is thrown out the window.

The Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. This is a card that has to do with sleep, and so with both dreams and nightmares. It is a scary card in that it warns that there might be hidden enemies, tricks and falsehoods. But it should also be remembered that this is a card of great creativity, of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition. You may be going through a time of emotional and mental trial; if you have any past mental problems, you must be vigilant in taking your medication but avoid drugs or alcohol, as abuse of either will cause them irreparable damage. This time however, can also result in great creativity, psychic powers, visions and insight. You can and should trust your intuition.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Alumna
POSTED AT 04:51 PM

It is one in the afternoon and the sun is at its peak. It is hot. It's always hot these days.

Down the stone pathway I walk, slowly enough to watch the people around me, but quickly enough so stragglers and those hurrying to classes would not get annoyed. It’s irritating you know, when you’re trying to get to class as quickly as you can and people on the sidewalks leading to the massive buildings walk so damn slowly.

There’s the Lover’s Lane. You would think that the Fountain and the Arch would lose its charm as a subject for photography and paintings. You’d be surprised that with just a slight tilt of the head, a bend of the wrist, or a new position as you sit cross-legged on the ground, you can find a new perspective. The results are always surprising. Fresh.

A large tarpaulin flaps in the wind, promising the imminent arrival of a new building. Another expanse of grassland will be gone soon, to be replaced by an edifice of cement and glass. Like we need another one of those.

And here’s the watering hole. There are skirts, and slacks, and collared blouses and V-necked shirts and PE shorts bearing the seal of the IPEA. A group hurried along, each with a red Styro bowl with a plastic cover in hand. I shake my head. Fast food will be the death of the Philippine youth.

The oldest and grayest of buildings loom closer. They shouldn’t have put an ATM machine here. It just didn’t mesh well with old stone gargoyles, wood flooring, marble and history.

The rushing of water from that magnificent and obnoxious fountain grows louder, accented by peals of laughter, dance beats and sounds of breaktime. It fades away as I enter the most secluded area of the campus.

There are white blurs. Some with stethoscopes in tow, walking in quick steps as though death was on their heels. Some are bright-eyed and shiny with excitement. And oil. I did say it was hot. Others dragged on, stoop-shouldered, carrying the weight of the world with them. A group of twelve shuffle through the entrance, led by a stern woman covered in a lab gown and a cloud of confidence and wisdom.

I step back to let them pass. They glance up blankly for a brief second before proceeding to ignore me. They had duties to worry about. I am but an outsider looking in, no one to be bothered with. I am a survivor. But they don’t know that, do they?

At the entrance, a hand stops me from stepping through.

“Miss, san kayo?” asks trusty, old Mamang Guard.

I smile, flashing the card I had hanging around my neck.

“Alumni Office po.”

-end-

--

Heh. Stream-of-consciousness piece that I thought of during a long walk from España to Dapitan. Just trying to flex my writing muscles. ^o^;