love

Sailors braving storms
Approaching seas uncharted
In search for sweet shore

this book is ♥

Yesterday, I found a wonderful book in the library called Writing Well: The Essential Guide. Instead of rereading the assigned novel for our English class, I took a break and asked a willing classmate to borrow the book for me since I didn't have my library card with me.

Synchronicity really seems to work wonders for me. Recently, I have been taking baby steps to sharpen my writing skills. Like this week, I decided to leave my stagnant old blog for good and make a fresh start through this writing blog. Heck, I even started attending my English Journalism classes this week as well, and I intend to continue doing so until the school year ends. So yes, I found the book greatly relevant to the  recent turn of events this week. 

I like writing, no doubt about it. I sometimes encounter resistance when starting a story, essay, or  whatever, but during lucky moments, my pen somehow finds a way to outwit the monsters that block my creativity well. Sometimes, though, I notice that my writing style is way too dependent on flowery words (instead of powerful verbs) and overused cliches (instead of cleverly-placed metaphors) It's wordy, frilly, and at its best, falsely profound.

I found the writing style of the author interesting since I felt that it provided a stark contrast to mine. I liked that he used the fewest words possible to convey his thoughts without sacrificing style, and in effect, wrote with commendable grace and thrift in words.

He mentioned in his book that writing is similar to our daily activities more than we think. Talking is very much similar to writing, except that in the latter, the coarse turns into fine, and  words are "compressed, clarified, enriched, heightened by thought and art, and set down on paper." Which is true, actually. I realized some of my bad writing habits, such as using a highfalutin word or wordy phrase when the simpler version could have done the job just as well.

Singing, according to him, can be compared to writing as well. Of course, I found that part more interesting than the others.

"In song, it's how you sing, not just what you utter, that counts. And so it is with writing. You do it and do it again; you're making a work that takes a finished form, that lasts, that plays again each time it's read; and it's not just what it means but the way it means that holds or loses your reader. The message is in the music. So make a beautiful noise. Still, writing isn't song exactly. If it's music, it's more Beatles than Beethoven; it's more Woody Guthrie than Giacomo Puccini."

And now, that's really something. Content is king, yes, but creating something beautiful also entails a lot of work in the form of proofreading, rewriting, revisions, and making final touches. There has got to be some balance between rhyme and reason, for if one drowns the other, the work either fails to move hearts and inspire because of extreme pedantry (oh no I'm doing it again), or gets trashed for lack of more decent structure.

Anyway, I still do not have enough time to read the book thoroughly for now, for it seems that the huge pile of requirements is getting the better of me now. Next week will not be more pleasant either, but I shall  find a way to read the chapters chronologically somehow soon.

personal blog rules

1. You should only post original content.

2. You should not restrict yourself in any way, for fear of making mistakes. Making mistakes is acceptable, since it is a part of the writing process. Aim for growth instead of perfection.

3. Post regularly here, instead of distracting yourself with unproductive diversions.

4. Don't think. Feel. (Tan, 2009) Think. But more importantly, feel. :)

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You are so tired of drifting, hoping, failing miserably. But you simply smile, and they all believe you.

verbal alchemy

Base metals transform
Bidding adieu to the norm

Static thoughts that linger
Reach a point of total blur

Wild elements are suddenly shaken
Subdued bonds get finally broken

Thought enzymes catalyze reaction
Inspiring wildfire transformation

Amidst monochromic reality lies promise

Apparent delta in this journey's demise

The elusive gold springs out from nowhere
Reaching the inner circle of change's lair

some questions

Why do scientists still take great pains to search for the cure for cancer, despite knowing that all men, disease-free or not, are bound to die anyway?

Why do people choose taking a fairly safe job over leading a kind of life they really want almost every time, despite knowing that they will make ends meet and survive somehow anyway?

Why are men still afraid to jump off life's cliffs and let go despite knowing that their current state of reality is but temporary?

Is this really just a self-preservation thing (some innate driving force implanted in the recesses of our soul/body that prevents us from straying away from our "default human nature mode")? Or is there more to it?

on writing

What makes a good writer?

This is a fairly good question to start with since this blog was born out of my desire to sharpen my writing skills and spare myself from the hustle and bustle of social networks, at least for a while.

I have always considered myself as a writer. When I was a kid, I used to craft short stories and essays (I still didn't know they were called essays back then) about random things that caught my eye on my way home. The stories I came up with were occasionally serious, revealing sudden bursts of philosophical thought even, but really, most of them were either sappy or silly or as something which my older self will probably say, something you could easily call trash.

Despite this, the important thing is that I wrote things back then. Often.

Then entered the years of adolescence. Requirements, hell weeks and complicated things stormed my peaceful and uncomplicated life, and things were never the same again. I'd wake up in the morning, cram stuff, go to class, cram again, eat lunch, go home, then cram some more. I barely had time to relax, let alone write stuff. Needless to say, I never touched a pen the same way again. Or even if I did, it was merely because of a writing requirement in school.

Yes, I still considered myself as a writer, albeit a blocked and greatly unprolific one this time. This, I could largely attribute to my lack of free time, academic priorities, and my it's-so-long-it'll-never-end to-do list. That's about it. And maybe, just maybe, alright, outright perfectionism.

In my room lies a collection of half-filled notebooks containing notes in the first few pages, revealing my several unsuccessful attempts to keep a journal and stick to that one thing without getting bored and starting anew with another notebook. I still do try to write, but these attempts cause no more than frustration in my part every time the words fail to flow the way I want, or I find a minor loophole in a story I'm writing.

These past few months, my progress in my journey towards growth as a writer has almost been non-existent. Odds and bits of notepad files in my laptop containing snippets of my writing flood my desktop, but that's about it. More often than not, I find myself writing on the walls of my Facebook friends and surfing through my Tumblr dashboard, two activities that, though greatly entertaining, fare almost zero when it comes to total utility.

This is why I created this blog. For me, it's a conscious attempt to break my vicious cycle of doing practically useless things, getting guilty after, and doing the exactly same useless thing again. I want to change, and I want to cultivate my inner artist once again. I'll no longer try to keep things absolutely perfect because I know I'll never manage to do so. Occasional imprecise words, artistically-lopsided sentences, these are things that define my writing personality, and although it may not seem like them, stepping-stones towards growth.

It is really nice (in fact, almost magical) to relish my not-so-distant past, when silly and sappy were not necessarily trash, and when doing what I enjoyed-- writing-- was all that ever mattered. Many events have shaped me through the years, both for better and for worse, but I guess, all I really want is to become that same naive child again.

1

Sometimes, the mundane can be the ultimate epitome of the sublime, even for just a fleeting moment.  In a flash, the world turns into a stage and one suddenly becomes the lead in a play he has created for himself.

However, the impending reality of life soon sets in, creeping unnoticed at first, but becoming more apparent with the blooming of days. The frail, magical bubble pops, and before one knows it, the entire memory is gone.

Of Demons, Pisay and Futurology

When I was a child, the mere mention of the word hell conjured a grim picture that usually consisted of only two things – fire and a grotesque demon that my parents kept on talking about to freak me out. However, my idea of hell radically changed as I entered the Philippine Science High School. My childhood version of demons were characterized by long horns and mischievous smiles, but over the years, I realized that this strict definition could also be expanded to include sadistic and spiteful tendencies evidently seen in some of the teachers I encountered in the past.

My life in Pisay has not been a bed of roses; in fact, I had my own share of thorns fairly recently in the form of stress-inducing requirements. Hell weeks seem more unconquerable than ever now that I am a stone’s throw away from graduation. However, despite eternal nuisance that comes with spanning grueling path, I still never fail to make time for some of the finer pleasures in life− hanging out with friends, tinkering with my site and guess what, checking out my daily horoscope in the entertainment section of my favorite newspaper

I say that with no exaggeration. Check me out in the library some time, and there is a great chance that you will see me looking into that daily horoscope with friends or reading about Armageddon. My fascination with futurology and whatnot started when I chanced upon a book about signs and compatibility while roaming around a certain bookstore. I purchased that book, and the rest is history. A bit of information, though. I’ve always felt a strong affinity with astrologists glorified by history books such as the wildly famous Nostradamus. To add to that, I also seem to be a big fan of destiny and serendipity crap often seen in romantic movies. Surely, then, had I not seen that book, I would probably have taken interest in some other similar book anyway and launched my way to futurology.

Therefore, it came as no surprise to me when I landed on the Eighth Circle of Hell in the online Dante’s Inferno test. I have always preferred knowing things in advance, as opposed to waiting and facing the unknown. Indeed, the fourth chasm where poor beings are forced to walk with their heads turned around really seems to be my future place in hell. If it is any consolation, though, I know that I will be with Nostradamus, Madame Auring and other famous astrologists. It is but weirdly comforting to know my potential company in hell.

The online Dante’s Inferno test made me think about a lot of things− for instance, who would be my guide in my journey through hell if ever, and of course, if the possibility of reversing my supposed fate exists. If I could pick a guide, I would choose the fictional Dante Alighieri in Inferno himself for several reasons. For one, I would not want to pick a dead person whose soul resides in hell already, for fear that he may drag me into some deep and hidden chasm and never let me escape the gates of hell ever. In choosing the fictional and very much alive Dante, I would be assured that my interests would be taken care of. 

Also, he has taken this torturous path to hell already, so I know that he could share some stories about his past experiences and give me lots of insights, which other inexperienced people could hardly provide. Last but not the least, I am greatly drawn to this character, and it would bring me great pleasure to meet him in person and have him as my guide.

As I tap my keyboard keys to write the last paragraph, I am left to wonder− would I really want to embark on a journey through hell like Dante, and do I really feel comfortable with my possible circle in hell? As it turns out, my answer to both of these questions is a flat no. I would want Dante Alighieri to be my guide if and only if I had no other choice but to go through this path. Hell, it is unbelievably hot in hell. Also, I can be fascinated by the fact that I would be with Nostradamus if ever my soul entered hell, but deep inside, I would want to experience eternal happiness and fulfillment in heaven.

So I guess I’ll skip reading my daily horoscope tomorrow. Or not.