Writing hiatus again, not good. It is always tough to get back onto a task – especially writing, and exercising, and playing the violin, and doing maths, and being focused... basically just about everything – after you have stopped for quite a bit.

My Live Essential writing program has been bugging me to update it for ages now. Finally succumbed, a mere 2 minutes ago or so. With much reluctance I must say. But I really cannot get much writing (or, as more aptly put, crapping) done without it. It is magic I swear. Currently writing this on a word document, and honestly, it is not looking as pretty. In fact, I have been persistently trying to churn out more potential narrative pieces for the finals recently (using Word). So, not to discount that, yes I have been writing. Very minimally. But once again, nothing looks especially good on Microsoft Word. In Times New Roman. No, just no.

(Oh yay, Live Writer has been successfully resurrected! I feel so much more writing here.)

Been rather jaded and exhausted lately. Did you know keeping secrets is an extremely tough job? Well, let me tell you, YES. And for someone like myself, who is incredibly, undeniably, beyond words BAD at remaining silent, it is wearing me thin (if only this phrase was used here literally). But guess what, still going strong, yup the front door is shut tight. Even I am impressed with myself.

In other news, my prelims are coming. The prelims are like the gaping mouth of Tartatus, the grand entrance. And I must say, I see the chaos in the distance, and I am anticipating the heat from the inferno. By anticipating, I mean, at this point, things are still bordering at the edge of the chill-out zone. And this alone, is big enough a cause to panic. WHY AM I NOT PANICKING? Ok, yes I am, I am panicking over the fact that I am not panicking! It is almost hilarious.

With that said, I am trying to get back in the game. Teeming with reluctance, but whoever said you had a choice. However, sometimes (if you are lucky), determination is somewhere there peeking its head out cheekily behind that thick, dense foliage of disinclination. And what you do not know, an angry kid is a determined one. And one with a burning, suppressed vengeance, perhaps there is more power and ability in there than you could see or even begin fathom.

Ok now for something happier.

Another latest happening. I have been working hard on recovering my long-abandoned love for reading! Tiny successes in the completion of a couple of books and short visits to the library. It has been pretty refreshing indeed. Am beginning to be reminded of the million and one positive attributes that reading as a hobby can bring about, and be it a surprise or not, the idea of escapism through stories has ranked pretty high on the plus-points list.

Also, I think it has mildly rekindled (and intensified) my passion for literature once again. This makes me rather happy, really. I have always loved lit, ever since the days of Lang Arts (that's what first sparked my interest actually). But lousy grades and dreadful lectures through the course of last year did kind of dampen my enthusiasm for the entire subject and art a little. However, good news, that crazy desire to learn more and improve has returned. Honestly, lit is the only lesson whereby I can sit through without sleeping or feeling sleepy or bored. I just like the subject, it is interesting and I feel inspired every time I discover new insights about our set texts or unseen pieces. I won't mind sitting through a day purely filled with lit lectures. I just love how it is such a boundless subject, where there is so many new things and views to uncover with every new piece you encounter. With every new piece always brings, of course a vague sense of apprehensiveness and anxiety, but also an undeniable sense of curiosity and sheer joy. It is simply so exciting to hear all the new points and ideas that can be mined out of often such a short piece of writing. I find it so captivating and enthralling. Strange, and almost crazy, but it just is. What's more, my lit grades are improving steadily, which is definitely a wonderful bonus. There's still so much to learn and I sure do hope I get better at analysing and decompartmentalising my texts. And I do hope I get my distinction. Right now, I really cannot be bothered with grades any more, but I sure do hope I can get an A for lit. It will make me really quite happy and proud with myself.

So long I've been afraid of, losing love I guess I've lost.
Well if that's love, it comes at much too high a cost.

Writing hiatus again, not good. It is always tough to get back onto a task – especially writing, and exercising, and playing the violin, and doing maths, and being focused... basically just about everything – after you have stopped for quite a bit.

My Live Essential writing program has been bugging me to update it for ages now. Finally succumbed, a mere 2 minutes ago or so. With much reluctance I must say. But I really cannot get much writing (or, as more aptly put, crapping) done without it. It is magic I swear. Currently writing this on a word document, and honestly, it is not looking as pretty. In fact, I have been persistently trying to churn out more potential narrative pieces for the finals recently (using Word). So, not to discount that, yes I have been writing. Very minimally. But once again, nothing looks especially good on Microsoft Word. In Times New Roman. No, just no.

(Oh yay, Live Writer has been successfully resurrected! I feel so much more writing here.)

Been rather jaded and exhausted lately. Did you know keeping secrets is an extremely tough job? Well, let me tell you, YES. And for someone like myself, who is incredibly, undeniably, beyond words BAD at remaining silent, it is wearing me thin (if only this phrase was used here literally). But guess what, still going strong, yup the front door is shut tight. Even I am impressed with myself.

In other news, my prelims are coming. The prelims are like the gaping mouth of Tartatus, the grand entrance. And I must say, I see the chaos in the distance, and I am anticipating the heat from the inferno. By anticipating, I mean, at this point, things are still bordering at the edge of the chill-out zone. And this alone, is big enough a cause to panic. WHY AM I NOT PANICKING? Ok, yes I am, I am panicking over the fact that I am not panicking! It is almost hilarious.

With that said, I am trying to get back in the game. Teeming with reluctance, but whoever said you had a choice. However, sometimes (if you are lucky), determination is somewhere there peeking its head out cheekily behind that thick, dense foliage of disinclination. And what you do not know, an angry kid is a determined one. And one with a burning, suppressed vengeance, perhaps there is more power and ability in there than you could see or even begin fathom.

Ok now for something happier.

Another latest happening. I have been working hard on recovering my long-abandoned love for reading! Tiny successes in the completion of a couple of books and short visits to the library. It has been pretty refreshing indeed. Am beginning to be reminded of the million and one positive attributes that reading as a hobby can bring about, and be it a surprise or not, the idea of escapism through stories has ranked pretty high on the plus-points list.

Also, I think it has mildly rekindled (and intensified) my passion for literature once again. This makes me rather happy, really. I have always loved lit, ever since the days of Lang Arts (that's what first sparked my interest actually). But lousy grades and dreadful lectures through the course of last year did kind of dampen my enthusiasm for the entire subject and art a little. However, good news, that crazy desire to learn more and improve has returned. Honestly, lit is the only lesson whereby I can sit through without sleeping or feeling sleepy or bored. I just like the subject, it is interesting and I feel inspired every time I discover new insights about our set texts or unseen pieces. I won't mind sitting through a day purely filled with lit lectures. I just love how it is such a boundless subject, where there is so many new things and views to uncover with every new piece you encounter. With every new piece always brings, of course a vague sense of apprehensiveness and anxiety, but also an undeniable sense of curiosity and sheer joy. It is simply so exciting to hear all the new points and ideas that can be mined out of often such a short piece of writing. I find it so captivating and enthralling. Strange, and almost crazy, but it just is. What's more, my lit grades are improving steadily, which is definitely a wonderful bonus. There's still so much to learn and I sure do hope I get better at analysing and decompartmentalising my texts. And I do hope I get my distinction. Right now, I really cannot be bothered with grades any more, but I sure do hope I can get an A for lit. It will make me really quite happy and proud with myself.

So long I've been afraid of, losing love I guess I've lost.
Well if that's love, it comes at much too high a cost.