Untitled

     I've finished another manuscript. This time, I am not too excited to submit it anymore. I am planning to spend more time in the 'editing part', perhaps longer than what I've spent in my previous ms. Stayed away from this recently finished ms for like a week, so I guess I am ready to face it and read it as if I wasn't the one who wrote it.

     

     My plan is to submit it next week... Then, cross my fingers that things will turn out better this time. I really don't know if I am really meant to be a romance writer. Sometimes I doubt myself, yes I really do. Even if I am at times very vocal about how I go through my stories I still wonder why. Why do I wake up early in the morning finding myself itching to scribble something in my notebook? Why do I have to stop by the nearest food court or find a decent place to sit down and write words cluttering my thoughts? Why do I have this crazy imagination? I even have a feeling that I am weird and I don't belong with the workforce I am included in.

     Just a thought. I guess I have to talk less about my dream and keep most of the details to myself. I feel kinda hurt seeing the blank expression on the faces of the people I am talking to. Looking at me like I am talking about 'the impossible'. Is getting published (in my case) impossible? Maybe I am just pressuring myself too much about getting published. For now, I just have to keep on dreaming, WRITING and praying that wishes still do come true.

Untitled

Today is one of those days when I just want to turn to my quiet self. That suddenly occurs to me in certain occasions when I don’t want to hear too much noise. Noise. Yes, noise; that’s what people around me create when they talk almost at the same time. I don’t know why there are people who want to always be heard like they’re from some group of geniuses or something.

I have come to this realization that I might be sending the wrong message. These people talk about me in several instances and sort of describe me as some simple-minded, no ambition and totally weak human being. They call my name in a pathetic way like they’re calling the attention of a three year-old kid. If I were a book, I won’t be easy to read. So, why are those ‘geniuses’ out there assuming that they know me that well?

People don’t win friends by waking up in the morning and offering a sachet of instant coffee. That could be a start. Kind gestures can be a start of friendship that can last a lifetime. In the contrary, to expect too much from someone is not a wise decision. That’s a lesson I learned from being observant by how people around me talk and act. Too bad I adapted the habit of imitating and making fun of another person’s mannerism. Yes, I admit I can be really cruel when I make fun of someone behind his back. But I can be the sweetest thing next to cotton candy.

Contentment is earned in time. It’s funny how some try to break my ‘I’m satisfied wall’ bombarding me with endless lectures of the ‘technical stuff’ even when it’s not necessary to discuss it. It’s obvious to me how these guys just want to show off. They’re pathetic insecure creatures without a life of their own. Life. I’m tempted to say: Back off I’m living my life.