splendor

Oh BC – how you make my speechless with your very being…

make up your mind

so I’ve having fries and steamed asparagus for supper tonight.

Recently, I’ve been very accommodating with my diet (too much so, in fact). I allow myself to indulge whatever food item it is that my body desires. No matter the price, no matter the fat. I should mention that it isn’t because I’ve given up my barely two months old health resolution but because of a frustratingly regular event that is a part of my very physical biology.

I don’t need to gross you out any further.

PS. Granted, it’s steamed asparagus. I feel less guilty when I skip the butter.

the english urge

In recent years (or rather, ever since i held an adequate understanding of the English language), I’ve harboured an undeniable desire to be English, to speak that delectable London accent, to go to boarding school, to moan often about the weather…

Just what is it about the English culture that is so attractive to me? I love its comfort foods: stews, sausages and mash, baked beans and endless varieties of cooked potatoes. I love the quaint country lanes, I love its literature, I love its slangs and its humour. I love its people.

 

Yeah, so this is just a big fluffy shout out to England. You’re brilliant!

an account of a process

I’ve got about 3 unfinished drafts sitting, waiting to be posted on this blog, and I have 2 sets of characters that won’t leave my head, waiting to live out their stories. I am currently working on a story titled “Quit Freak”. Usually dialogue comes out much harder for me (I’m much better with mood and and setting and no-quotation marks required stuff. Exposition is damn annoying!) so I sort of wrote it all out in a rush. and now I an insert the rest of it organically. Le Sigh, indeed.

My ipod (1st gen iTouch) continues to behave irregularly but I simply can’t justify getting a spanking new one because “Sherlocked” (Yes, I really am that obsessed. Don’t say I didn’t warn you) is still loyal and he was the first major purchase I made with my own dollars. When I bought him, I cherried him out with a real leather cover, Bose earbuds (they suck, I am grown up now) and a myriad of other frivolous expenses (though I do not regret the case, in fact, it’s save Sherlocked many a times).

new old books

My new found appreciation for all things Benedict Cumberbatch led me to a surprising reveal: Frankenstein’s Monster.

I’ve never (and stil aren’t, save for this exception) been a fan of horror or gothic works simply because I can’t handle gore and frights. I had read much about Mary Shelley (and her famous parents, in fact) for a biography course and to be honest, I didn’t care for her at all.  But whilst reading Roger Ebert’s account of the play – my curiosity got the better of me and I read some snippets of the original story. Let me just say that they stunned me. Horrifying words, yes, but stunning words none the less.

~~~On another note, I saw Third Star recently and it rather cemented my love for Cumberbatch (it’s not just those eyes, I swear!) The story is predictable (but it’s meant to be, the protagonist tell the audience he’s got terminal cancer-and SPOILER ALERT! of course he dies from it by the end of the film) but that’s part of its magic: The audience is dreading the end, just as Tim’s (played by Cumberbatch… DUH) family and friends dread the end-no matter how much fun and laughter there is before that end. That dread makes all the happier scenes almost too painful to watch.

Without spoiling the ending (ha!), here are Cumberbatch’s last lines in the movie:

                And so I raise a morphine toast to you all, and if you happen to remember it’s the anniversary of my birth, remember that you were loved by me, and you made my life a happy one, and there’s no tragedy in that—THIRD STAR

If that alone doesn’t raise a decent lump in your throat, what will?

curiosity

The weather’s been out of wack lately and I hardly know if spring nearly arrived or winter’s just getting started. My head’s simply brimming with plot bunnies and I’m hastily jotting them down. It feel good to have ideas again, to be creative again, to be original again.

I was afraid that I’ve become desensitized to my usual sources of inspiration but I know now that the organic, good kind of spark can’t be forced out.

I’ve been good with my spending–only 2 coffees and one outside meal per week.

On a separate note, I wish everyone would stop being some nosy about my personal life. I don’t bug others about their lives, so why the insatiable need to know about mine? I’m really looking forward to stepping out on my own. I like my independence.