was looking at all my unfinished prose and decided to post them up lol. Starting from the oldest!!
People who have been faithfully reading my blog since JC times at least (hey i started blogging since Sec 1 ok!) will remember(i hope) that I ever embarked on this great journey to start writing a novel!! Wahaha. Fruitful endeavour THAT turned out to be.. Anyways, during the heydays of my amazing aspiration, I wrote about 800 words for the first chapter and some words for the final chapter.. And i'm gonna share the final chapter wit you guys here =)
Story goes like this - the novel was supposed to be a semi-biographical novel so it was very much about the lives of myself and my friends then. So obviously melvin was gonna play a big part in it right? Wahaha. I'd changed everyone's names though. Anw, the story (the bit abt me and him) was about the same as it had happened in real life (up until J1 wit the stupid song thing) and I'd decided to write out my own ending. This was written in end of J1 year yea so immaturity kinda prevails lol. So the ending was gonna be that after all the hussle and blah of hectic j1 life (i know - hectic??), my unhealthy diet choices had taken a toll on my kidneys and I'd undergone a massive kidney operation (hey, this cld happen to me in real life too k, val agrees lol). Melvin's character in the story, Michael, finds out and decides to pay me a visit. After a lot of talk we'll both realise that we can't be together. WAHAHAHA. So fucking true to life k. Anyways, here goes. I haven't finished the chapt yet but this is all I have at the mo. If you guys want me to continue it -- MAYBE I WILL! Hahahaha.
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OTL - Ending
In the hushed silence of the ward, his footsteps sounded like thunder on a cloudless day. Michael began to mentally rehearse what he was going to say, silently cursing himself for not having prepared his speech earlier. The sun of dusk shone in through the window and illuminated the dancing dust particles, a swirling tango of confusion. He paused in the middle of the room, hesitating. The bouquet in his hands seemed inappropriate for the occasion. They were unsuitable, too… Too large. And too gay. The flowers were too brightly colored. In the sepia all around him, they stood out starkly like neon lights in a Victorian church. A little further from where he was standing, Michael detected a muffled stirring. She was waking! With as much dignity as he could muster, he quickly made his way to her bedside and was surprised to find that she was alone, and fast asleep. Breathing an inaudible sigh of relief, he looked around to see if there was a sign of a visitor anywhere. Finding nothing, he settled quietly into the plastic white chair beside her bed.
Stray strands of hair sprouted around her pale face, framing it in a vulnerable, endearing manner. Looking at her, once strong and lively, now disheveled and weak, his heart ached and he shuddered involuntarily. He loved her, he realized. He really did. He wanted to reach out and hold her close to him, to make her pain go away. He wanted her to know, but he could not tell her.
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I know. Fucking cheesy right?? Wahahaha but i just showed it to val and she said it's very beautiful so I was so happy I decided to share it here lol. So, do you guys appreciate my use of Third Person Interior Monologue? Hahahaha. I kinda loved it.
Heh. Next piece of prose to share wit you guys is a piece I wrote when I was feeling very very emotional and all. This piece I let my Lit and GP Tutor Mr. Dio look through and he had pretty good comments about it. Hee. Kinda pleased. But as usual i didn't complete it. It was just something I had to do - writing to get my feelings out. This piece of prose had absolutely no point to it. Just enjoy. Hahahah
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Cap prose
I felt a sudden urge to feel vaguely Jay-Chou-esque and am now wearing a cap. In my room. My parents voiced their concerns for my sanity and I must say, their worries are unfounded. My sanity is intact, bundled together with my sharp wit and intelligence, sitting right under this cap. I have decided it might make a good fashion accessory, serving the dual purpose of hiding my face as well as giving the impression that I have fashionable hair. (I just looked in the mirror – very trendy. A “trucker” kind of feeling. Pity the cap screams some Chinese words about some dragon boat rowing competition). Ironically, the song that’s playing out of my Windows Media Player right now is “Going Crazy” by Natalie. How apt.
I am, indeed, going crazy. Not insane, no, it’s a sort of craziness that is driving me mad, demanding the attention of my attention. This cap has the helpful effect of pushing everything down, enabling me to sit down and write this. When I try to visualize what is going on in my head, I see a landslide. Lots of mud, rubbish and slime tumbling down and all around. I watch as it all whirls around in a violent outpouring of thought and emotion, as it takes on an aggressive nature, as it morphs into a ferocious rage. The observer in me sits back, and observes. My mind develops wanderlust and explores all sorts of hostile territories, while being unwittingly tailed by the ferocious rage. Like Hansel and Gretel, the mind happily leaves a trail behind to aid it in finding the way back to safe ground later, not knowing that the ferocious rage is devouring the breadcrumbs. My mind goes round in circles, haplessly revisiting the past hostile territories, unable to find a way out without the indicators back to safety and sanity. Bit by bit, hopelessness overcomes my mind and she is caught up in the ferocious rage, overwhelmed by its savage power. The rage eats up everything in sight, tainting happy memories and scarring them while bringing forth the unhappy, angry recollections that were buried so deep and so long ago. Outside the cap, my face is a picture of nonchalance, the fire in my eyes the only indicator of my inner turmoil.
Not too long ago this rage had only just been quelled and driven to exile in a deep corner of my heart. More recently, new emotions, hope and joy, had welled up to cover my heart in a warm chocolatey liquid. However, a single small action I noticed just yesterday unlocked the cage of the beast
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Reading it reminded me of what triggered this piece of prose. Haha. YAH. It was him again! I admit it k! Hahaha. Anyways, this time round I chose to use First Person Stream of Consciousness. Not bad eh? Hah. But i think i prefer Interior Monologue. It's cleaner.
Next up would be my most recent piece of writing - a bit of prose written during Psy Lecture sometime ago. I was bored and felt the need to just write and write. So i constructed a quick scenario on the spot and wrote it out! It's also unfinished lol, but hey, i think it's pretty cool.
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Ballerina Thingy
setting: ballet concert
characters: dancer(solo), audience including a man(the lover of the solo dancer) and his wife.
story: the man goes with his wife to a concert coz the latter wants to watch it, and he doesn't know that the star of the performance is his lover. his wife doesn't know abt his infidelity and the dancer doesn't know he has a wife
STORY:The darkness lifts and a hush settles over the audience. Specks of dust dance in the beams of golden light, a graceful, silent sideshow to the twirling ballerina onstage. As the violins serenade the audience, she dances to their song; one, two three, twirl, two three – a romantic minuet. She and the stage are one; she knows every creak it makes, where she should avoid. In return, it caresses her feet, embraces her when she falls to it. When they are torn apart by her jumps, they inevitably reconcile – each cannot do without the other For the stage is adorned by her grace, beautified by her glory and she derives, from the stage, an abundance of energy and the courage to exhibit her deft beauty.
Onstage, she is lost in her world, the dust forming swans and gazelles, joining her in the slow tribute to a fantasy prince. Her eyes closed, her mouth open in a joyful smile, she throws her arms wide open, embracing all that is around her.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Haha. This is Third Person Omniscient narrative. Goodness. Can you guys tell I miss Lit? Hahahahaha.
Anyways. Have been reading(like i mentioned earlier, duh) and came across something that resonates with me soundly. The book is "Lost & Found" b y Jane Sigaloff and the part that I agree a lot with goes like this:
"It's not about need. And I'm not about to do helpless female either. All I'm saying is that it would just be refreshing to occasionally meet people who are interested in getting to know me rather than my mattress. Who want to just date and see. It's starting to feel like it's the men who are dying to settle down, get married and start having children in their early thirties. Getting to know someone becomes a timed challenge, and for some reason if you're a single female most men presume you must be gagging for sex, if not a husband."
Also
"'I don't think I'm that unusual. Of course, it may be that I've set my standards too high.'
She knew the feeling. 'Most people compromise.'
'You think?'
'Definitely. No one wants to be the last one picked for the team. But I'm not interested in being someone's spur of the moment, this-one'll-do decision.'"
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Italicized words are parts I particularly agree with.
All right. Lots of thoughts for you guys to reflect on already. Heh. I'll blog more soon. Hahas. Event-blog will resume soon! =) Ciao guys!
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