No, it doesn't include anything serious at all BUT --
No. I'm not posting a story of mine (for now, please, please, let me concentrate on the planning first), but I'm just going to say that:
TO ALL WHO WRITE (OR TO PEOPLE WHO JUST HAVE NOTHING ELSE TO DO AND WOULD DECIDE TO WRITE):
Go and take the NaNoWriMo's writing program. I can't explain it. THE WHOLE THING PUSHED OFF TWIST (THAT'S HOW I CALL MY INNER EDITOR) FROM MY LAZY BRAIN AND IT IS ACTUALLY FUNCTIONING WELL TO THE POINT THAT I WANTED TO WRITE MORE. Okay. All caps will be gone (it looks weird). But I'm not ranting.
Anyways. Try it. It's the least the Internet can do for poor procrastinating chaps like us.
NaNoWriMo is awesome (it actually stands for National Novel Writing Month. Classy. I like how they mixed the whole thing). Check it out: http://nanowrimo.org/
or if you're still a kid (like me), check this one out: http://ywp.nanowrimo.org/
Specially made for the younger ones. Not bad. (I like the tutorials, very nice, very friendly, very awesome)
Now, I write. Now, you write. Now, we will write. Let go of your inner editor. Capture your inner imagination.
Thursday 18 July 2013
And so...
For the third time, I changed my template. A strange incident has happened: Clarice did this not out of sheer boredom, but with a decent reason! The stars above her head suddenly took another position!
This calls for madness. And oh, how I love to create stories regarding that one (no, I don't hurt people).
Unfortunately, Clarice goes back to normal: she decided to change her template again because she was bored.
And there is one possible chance that she might change it AGAIN.
I just hope that you won't be surprised. But fear not, because I, will work hard just to remain ... unchangeable (in terms of the template, that is).
And good news and apparently bad news: I will be changing my posting style for that reason. (No, no, no, not the time when I will post; it's what I write in those posts)
This is the second post that doesn't have a picture. I hope that fact isn't noticeable.
*Random announcement: I'm planning a novel within my fingers and keys and my lazy brain. Yes, that is both weird and normal. I have Writer's Block and I can't finish a short story (I finished one, but I ain't satisfied. Selfish me). Be brave, dear folks.
This calls for madness. And oh, how I love to create stories regarding that one (no, I don't hurt people).
Unfortunately, Clarice goes back to normal: she decided to change her template again because she was bored.
And there is one possible chance that she might change it AGAIN.
I just hope that you won't be surprised. But fear not, because I, will work hard just to remain ... unchangeable (in terms of the template, that is).
And good news and apparently bad news: I will be changing my posting style for that reason. (No, no, no, not the time when I will post; it's what I write in those posts)
This is the second post that doesn't have a picture. I hope that fact isn't noticeable.
*Random announcement: I'm planning a novel within my fingers and keys and my lazy brain. Yes, that is both weird and normal. I have Writer's Block and I can't finish a short story (I finished one, but I ain't satisfied. Selfish me). Be brave, dear folks.
Saturday 6 July 2013
To Envision What Lies Beyond My Vision
 |
| My surreal drawing -- let there be more surreal drawings to come |
Sometimes I wonder when it will pay its bills; heck, it rented the place for 4 years, on and off, but constantly goes back whenever my serious meter is on vacation. Its debts, those freakin' debts. It owed a lot.
And this drawing is actually not a product of my easily-bored nature, but rather through the help of an activity that our teacher gave us during the hazy lazy Wednesday. And I just finished it early in the afternoon, for I was looking forward to what I got. And of course I got that (above) as a result.
Now, I'm off to explain it all. What is drawing all about? What is the drawing for? Why did I draw it in black and white? Was my life that miserable? Was I badly in need of weird-looking glowing balls (yes, they are glowing) hanged above my computer?
Pardon the second-to-last and the last ones, of course. First of all (and this includes the second question), the objective of this activity was to see what we can see of our (most likely) planned future. I know, the drawing isn't very clear with its objectives, but I prefer doing it with surrealism tastes, with weird architecture and a extreme makeover from my original appearance (I doubt if I will be able to comb my hair after 16 years).
And so. Let me envision this to your minds. I write(like an amatuer who just got out of the pen's tip) and I love to do so (W.B. will work hard to carry out its evil plans). I simply can't describe the amazing and unstoppable feeling that I gained once I start to type or write. From my mind, the ideas and weird plans are transported to my restless fingers and the fingers will later transport them to a mechanical device, which I proudly call the computer.
To make a story short, I just wanted to be an author of the published books that I made by myself. I wish to do something different (in a way that I can interact with other people easily, for I am shy).
The colors that the drawing has -- wait, it's only black and white. Black and white. White that comes from the former blank paper, and black that comes from the ink. There was no added color at all (except black).
The dim colors represents something, at least in my own point of view. It symbolizes the doubt and uncertainty as I drew this drawing; this is the future I was going to draw. The future isn't set in stone, it moves around like flatworms in our stomach. And because of that weird feeling of doubt that I have, I decided to remain it as that, because if I will add some color, that means that everything is clear to me, and I don't have anything to worry.
Sometimes I expect a lot. So I will not expect anything, instead I will work like a bee and still not expect anything. Disappointment hits you with Thor's hammer when you expect like a bummer expecting to be discovered by a star-producer. But I force these lazy fingers of mine to work; what can you get from out of thin air?
And I dream a lot (yes, I am an ambitious person, but let it stay within me, it's not a good thing, sometimes). Because dreams can be both predictable and unpredictable. What if your dreams happened but in a reversed way? (That would be both awesome and non-awesome). And it's a really good thing to know what you wanted to be, because you are simply guided.
And I myself am guided (with this drawing). I know what my goal is. And it is to be a writer.
Now, I'm off to explain it all. What is drawing all about? What is the drawing for? Why did I draw it in black and white? Was my life that miserable? Was I badly in need of weird-looking glowing balls (yes, they are glowing) hanged above my computer?
Pardon the second-to-last and the last ones, of course. First of all (and this includes the second question), the objective of this activity was to see what we can see of our (most likely) planned future. I know, the drawing isn't very clear with its objectives, but I prefer doing it with surrealism tastes, with weird architecture and a extreme makeover from my original appearance (I doubt if I will be able to comb my hair after 16 years).
And so. Let me envision this to your minds. I write
To make a story short, I just wanted to be an author of the published books that I made by myself. I wish to do something different (in a way that I can interact with other people easily, for I am shy).
The colors that the drawing has -- wait, it's only black and white. Black and white. White that comes from the former blank paper, and black that comes from the ink. There was no added color at all (except black).
The dim colors represents something, at least in my own point of view. It symbolizes the doubt and uncertainty as I drew this drawing; this is the future I was going to draw. The future isn't set in stone, it moves around like flatworms in our stomach. And because of that weird feeling of doubt that I have, I decided to remain it as that, because if I will add some color, that means that everything is clear to me, and I don't have anything to worry.
Sometimes I expect a lot. So I will not expect anything, instead I will work like a bee and still not expect anything. Disappointment hits you with Thor's hammer when you expect like a bummer expecting to be discovered by a star-producer. But I force these lazy fingers of mine to work; what can you get from out of thin air?
And I dream a lot (yes, I am an ambitious person, but let it stay within me, it's not a good thing, sometimes). Because dreams can be both predictable and unpredictable. What if your dreams happened but in a reversed way? (That would be both awesome and non-awesome). And it's a really good thing to know what you wanted to be, because you are simply guided.
And I myself am guided (with this drawing). I know what my goal is. And it is to be a writer.
Wednesday 3 July 2013
An Experience That I Call: An Experience
It feels funny when your dog suddenly pounced on you after not seeing each other for 2 months.
Yes, I missed the old guy too, and he probably missed me too, but either that or he just wanted to eat some of my leftovers. I humbly chose the latter, of course.
He was an orange-brown mutt, a crossbreed of multinomial genes from different fathers. That is how unique the dogs here in our area are. His mother, proudly named as Inday Rosing, mothered probably a huge group of pups. I'm not even sure myself, but I can remember losing count of the pups that we gave and have. The word 'huge' doesn't do it justice, though.
It was summer, the months where people in the West go basking out in the sun, and where people in the East stay all soggy and groggy within their houses and lazily fanning their hands to give them short-lived pleasure. You don't believe me? We are all bummers. We all do that.
And since it was summer, it was the time where lazy days suddenly gets faster like a cow running after the car that has that oh-so-yummy-green-grass, where days suddenly slows down like a turtle running to get the last Nutella on sale. Both amazing and traumatizing. You simply sit around.
But not with my dog. That dog, who barks like a dog, but he barks like a cow too, for crying out loud. (Sounds familiar? Check out this link that has my What? poem: http://limbaroaclarice.blogspot.com/2013/06/a-dog-that-acts-like-dog.html) He was like a person whom you are talking to and you suddenly find out that he wasn't listening to you, but rather, he was looking at you hungrily. No, not that kind of hungry.
Not the I-want-to-eat-you hungry. Not the I-will-attack-my-owner hungry.
No, it was more of the I-want-to-jump-on-my-owner hungry.
Of all the I-am-hungry categories that he has chosen, he has chosen that one. I shuddered every time I actually remembered. Those claws. A dog's claw is something both fluffy and terrifying. A fluffy patch of cuddly fur compared to a human's perfectly plain and extremely-sensitive skin-oriented hand. And simply one of the most terrifying parts of the complex dog anatomy: the PAW.
It can:
*Scratch your eyes out
*Scratch you with the CLAWS
*Hit you with the POWER
And yet it was one of the best plushy toys that I get to touch once every time he attempted to stand up on his hind legs and I will hold both of his paws to get the feels. The fluffy and puffy feels.
But it never feels the same anymore. Especially when two -- no, wait, four paws of heavy gallons of dog strength was suddenly on me. And the dog was acting like a silly dog who just acts like a dog (you know, there are dogs that doesn't act like a dog. My dog is one of them, in some ways).
While I was staring absentmindedly at the blue, blue, wonderfully blue sky, my dog was chasing his tail around and around and around, until the silly and adorable one was able to catch it with his mouth. And he let go, and the chase started again. And of course, I would try to stop him, because I did that thrice (I don't have a tail, I'm sorry, I don't chase tails), and the results were both remarkable and headache-causing.
All in all, he was the best dog. One of the best experience. The best of the best experience will remain reserved for now.
Yes, I missed the old guy too, and he probably missed me too, but either that or he just wanted to eat some of my leftovers. I humbly chose the latter, of course.
He was an orange-brown mutt, a crossbreed of multinomial genes from different fathers. That is how unique the dogs here in our area are. His mother, proudly named as Inday Rosing, mothered probably a huge group of pups. I'm not even sure myself, but I can remember losing count of the pups that we gave and have. The word 'huge' doesn't do it justice, though.
It was summer, the months where people in the West go basking out in the sun, and where people in the East stay all soggy and groggy within their houses and lazily fanning their hands to give them short-lived pleasure. You don't believe me? We are all bummers. We all do that.
And since it was summer, it was the time where lazy days suddenly gets faster like a cow running after the car that has that oh-so-yummy-green-grass, where days suddenly slows down like a turtle running to get the last Nutella on sale. Both amazing and traumatizing. You simply sit around.
But not with my dog. That dog, who barks like a dog, but he barks like a cow too, for crying out loud. (Sounds familiar? Check out this link that has my What? poem: http://limbaroaclarice.blogspot.com/2013/06/a-dog-that-acts-like-dog.html) He was like a person whom you are talking to and you suddenly find out that he wasn't listening to you, but rather, he was looking at you hungrily. No, not that kind of hungry.
Not the I-want-to-eat-you hungry. Not the I-will-attack-my-owner hungry.
No, it was more of the I-want-to-jump-on-my-owner hungry.
Of all the I-am-hungry categories that he has chosen, he has chosen that one. I shuddered every time I actually remembered. Those claws. A dog's claw is something both fluffy and terrifying. A fluffy patch of cuddly fur compared to a human's perfectly plain and extremely-sensitive skin-oriented hand. And simply one of the most terrifying parts of the complex dog anatomy: the PAW.
It can:
*Scratch your eyes out
*Scratch you with the CLAWS
*Hit you with the POWER
And yet it was one of the best plushy toys that I get to touch once every time he attempted to stand up on his hind legs and I will hold both of his paws to get the feels. The fluffy and puffy feels.
But it never feels the same anymore. Especially when two -- no, wait, four paws of heavy gallons of dog strength was suddenly on me. And the dog was acting like a silly dog who just acts like a dog (you know, there are dogs that doesn't act like a dog. My dog is one of them, in some ways).
While I was staring absentmindedly at the blue, blue, wonderfully blue sky, my dog was chasing his tail around and around and around, until the silly and adorable one was able to catch it with his mouth. And he let go, and the chase started again. And of course, I would try to stop him, because I did that thrice (I don't have a tail, I'm sorry, I don't chase tails), and the results were both remarkable and headache-causing.
All in all, he was the best dog. One of the best experience. The best of the best experience will remain reserved for now.
Monday 1 July 2013
Book recommendations: Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson
Alright. I'm sorry if I was exaggerating. I just love reading things about either the Irish, the Welsh, or the Scottish (I was hoping for a fantasy-driven plot, but oh well, it was enjoyable).
Now. Robert Louis Stevenson. Does that name ring a bell in your head? Yes? No? Alright. Does the title Treasure Island got your attention? (I think there are modern pirate stories that have this title, but yes, you have the one and only Treasure Island) If yes, proceed reading. If no, proceed reading as well.
I think I mentioned something. This is a pirate story -- no, wait, let me get that straight. THIS is an adventure story, set upon the Scottish moors with beer-drinking and lots of chasings with gunshots and beers and --
Anyways, the story is about a young man named David Balfour (how I love that surname!), who was about to inherit a hefty price of money from his deceased father, when his Uncle snooped his nose in and asked some pirates to kidnap the poor lad. He was able to escape, of course. This wasn't purely a pirate story where you can steal (hey, they did steal) and sleep in an inn (stayed in once or twice) and accused of killing somebody (no, just guilty of murder).
There is a ... rivalry -- no, how can I describe this? Mutual dislike for the Scottish who remain, Scottish, against to those Scots who are what Alan called 'Whiggy'. The whole events were mingled with some historical fact, but not accurately correct.
All in all, it was enjoyable, it was not really a boy's novel (at least to me), and the themes were well. Alright. Down to the next book, let me see (it has a sequel, and I want to buy it)...
Book recommendations: Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
I have no problems with the story, except with some few progresses that bothers me in a confusingly-good-and-bad-way; no spoilers for you, dear readers. The best part will always happen halfway to the end of the book.
And there are the characters with distinctive traits! (And I can easily tell who can end up with whom, though I was confused with Jo's part) Margaret, or Meg, is the eldest. Beautiful, elegant, refined, dainty, but sometimes a bit of choosy when it comes to living matters, but all is well. She is a nice, respectable older sister who looks upon her younger sisters well.
My favorite is Jo, or Josephine, the second eldest. She is rough, playful, stubborn, reckless, optimistic, and a bit tomboyish at times. Best of all, she is an aspiring writer! But although I can say that I like her because of that, her determined stature when faced with a problem is admirable, and she writes wonderful poems and stories as well. She is a sister who can be a brother at some times, but will always prefer to be the tough sister who will look among her sisters for their safety.
Next is Beth, or Elizabeth, the third eldest. She is very sweet, quiet and simple in her ways, and can be fragile. I don't have much to say anything about her, but I do find her adorable, and I agree with the characters in the story. She is a musically-gifted person, she plays the piano, and everybody loves her.
Last but never the least, is Amy. She is a girl who prefers to be a woman already. She is wonderful in her ways, but there is one thing that bothers me about her (her spelling mishaps were funny, though). I have nothing much to say about her, but I can see her as the pink sister who is primmer and more proper than how those two words can describe her.
Though there were some tragedies (oops), and several twists within the story, everything evolves to that of a wonderful family tale that can truly touch the reader's heart.
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