Size Seven Shoes

I trace the thoughts The patterns of A kingdom found An eternity lost A stage of insecurities On curious display A sky of comets To rake out the sun A hope for peace for everyone Whilst you bide your time Flicking fleeting seconds into insignificant corners Conquering obscure lands Mapping crooked paths, wayward plans Your wishes descend Like large droplets of rain Drenching minions In anticipatory glee They clamour for things not deserved So you lay bare the cost The imminent pain An unforeseen loss A storm to weather I watch in silence The perplexity of placebos To tranquilise anxieties Your hopes to be made better But bitterness is a sneaky thief That steals your destinies Multiplying grief Unless, until a greater find Knocks down the intentions Of enemies sublime.

It is common for us in our human nature to want to restrict or condition the behaviour of someone else based on a judgment of whether what they're doing is reasonable or acceptable to us.  Thus, we have social patterns being formed, fashioned after what is collectively deemed to be right by the society we live in.  In some parts of the world, perhaps going topless in public may be so commonplace that no one would even bat an eyelid. But in certain other corners of the globe, it would be frowned upon, or the community may take it upon themselves to even reprimand or punish the person concerned. But I am not here to debate what forms of clothing (or lack of it) are acceptable or otherwise. What I am writing this post for is to question our rating of the extreme just a little bit.  We tend to label something as "extreme" if we think it is out of the norm... or to put it more bluntly, out of OUR norm. Or perhaps we ourselves just don't agree with a particular hab...

Let's talk about new things, shall we?

Received an email just yesterday from the Deputy Editor of a publication that I interviewed at previously. It's been about 5 months since then, so it's rather surprising that they should write me again on the possibilities of an interview. Funny how life goes. The timing of things. It's really hard to determine what will happen when, so I guess the best way to make the most out of things is to be openminded and willing to consider whatever it is that comes along your path. And to also be prepared to let go of things you wanted but are either not really meant for you or which is beyond your control to attain.  At the time when I originally applied to the publication I mentioned earlier, I had limited my scope of job preferences to working for a magazine. At that point in time, I would have not considered business writing nor being a journalist (the 2 jobs which I applied for recently contained these elements). So it's really quite amusing to note how my perspective ha...

* Continued from a previous post: Doggonemad Notes: 1st revision: 29 October 2010 _________________________________________________ "I'm feeling a little under the weather," I groan to the voice on the other end of the line. "I think I need the day off. I'll probably head to the doctor's after this." The thought that I am lying through my teeth came to mind. Though I had to wonder, even at that moment, how teeth could have anything to do with that. Perhaps it was like having bits of vegetables stuck between your front teeth. There'd be all these horrid bits of green protruding outwards so clearly for all to see even whilst you continually denied that any were embedded there in the first place. "It's all your fault!" I exclaim reproachfully whilst casting dirty looks at the dog. The canine's mouth was open with his lips pulled back just enough for me to see glimpses of his teeth. He looked like he was smiling. "Yes, yes...

I will be gainfully employed again soon. It's a mixed bag of feelings.  Frankly speaking, I hate the thought of having my time and energy being subject to someone else's control. Call me a control freak. Or a stingy, selfish brat. But I have come to resent this very necessary part of being an employee. I'd rather head off and do my own thing and earn money in my own way, on my own terms. But maybe it's not time yet. I don't know. In any case, I suppose I should not complain. Apparently there are people in this nation who have difficulty finding jobs. Now that one really baffles me. There are only two possibilities for this: The person concerned is extremely picky about which jobs he/she will apply for, and may even outright reject those that are not up to his/her standards The person is not qualified enough for the kinds of jobs he/she is applying for There are many practical ways to overcome both these problems, but then again a lot depends on the person...

I was at a public toilet in a petrol station in Mutiara Damansara yesterday when I was greeted by the following words on the door of the toilet stall: $ One night stand $ Bernie Lim 01x-xxxxxxx I was somewhat appalled yet intrigued by this haphazard advertisement. Are there really people out there who are that desperate that they would randomly call a number they found sprawled on the bathroom walls for a night of fun? Hmm. I always thought one night stands were committed because of that irresistable chick or hunk that you chanced to meet at the pub or club or err... wherever. Not by contacting some unknown person whose number you got off the toilet door. There was this other thought that crossed my mind too: did Mr. Lim actually bother to go through the trouble of visiting the Ladies' just to scribble his little advertisement on the toilet door? And if he had encountered a lady or two in the washroom at that time, would he have tried to work his charms on them in the hop...

[At 2.15 pm today] I just got home from an interview at a famous local newspaper publisher awhile ago, and am still recovering from the experience. No, it wasn't a nasty encounter, but nevertheless, interviews demand a lot more ardour than usual and have the tendency to deplete your energy level at rather alarming rates. As expected, I was required to sit for a test which lasted for an hour. Writing was definitely one of the skills that was being evaluated (after all, I was applying to become one of their journalists), along with some general knowledge on the business world (in line with the kind of publications which I would potentially write for).  The interview that followed immediately afterwards was with two of their editors, and much to my relief, it was quite an informal chat and not one that was too intimidating (although the longer it went on, the more I felt increasingly restless, especially at the point where one of them says to me, "It's a bit intimidati...

Just for now, can I be permitted to bask a little in my own glory a little? Just for one teensy moment? The reason for that is that I am excited. Very excited, if you must know. Just a little over a year ago, I began the arduous task of taking on silly, tiny, peanut-paying freelance jobs in order to kickstart a career in writing. Since that time right up to the present day, I've written on everything from kitchen mixers to foam mattresses, selecting car insurance to repaying loans and credit cards, detox products, studying in France and even profiles of famous personalities. And in the midst of all these fantastically bizarre writing episodes, I've earned a little bit of credibility. And with that, coupled with God's merciful graciousness towards my efforts, I have been privileged to attend quite a number of interviews and land a job as a writer. Even now as I write, despite having recently quit my job, I have new opportunities opening up and it's got me excited...

Writing prompt: One day you wake up to find your dog/cat waiting for you at the side of your bed, sitting on your briefcase. Cocking its head, it tells you, in perfect English, that you won’t be going to work today. Why won’t your pet let you go to work, and what happens? Source: writersdigest.com Notes:  1st revision: 29 October 2010 _________________________________________________ “Hans, what are you doing sitting on my laptop bag?” I blurt out loud on a reflex, perfectly aware that my loving and devoted German Shepherd probably would not understand a word of what I had just said.  The huge furry pooch just kept on staring at me, panting noisily with his tongue jutting out and his eyes looking directly into mine. That cute look. Dogs always give this ridiculously cute look that somehow ends up convincing you to give them what they want. “Off boy, off!” I command Hans in my most stern voice. Only that I am not good at giving commands, and the reaction I solicit from ...

I am relatively free these days. The reason for this is that I am out of a job - I recently left my last employer due to some sticky issues that I foresaw would not be likely be resolved. Sounds rather vague, doesn't it? Well, as the wise ones say, don't complain about your job online, and especially not on your blog. Thus, I will not do so. In any case, I freelance fully yet again, ladies and gentlemen ('till such a time that I have full time/part time job offers again). Have you any need of a writer? *puts on a wide, convincing grin* Frankly speaking, I feel a wave of laziness that is getting increasingly hard to shake off. Earning a living is rather hard work. And although writing is my forte, the truth of the matter is you don't always get to write on the topics you love AND get paid at the same time. It's a rare occurrence, trust me. Perhaps in this temporary period of freedom, I shall blog more. Let you in on my thoughts and fears and what nots. After ...

It always begins with discontent. A tiny gnawing at the edge of your nerves. The inexplainable restlessness that plagues you every few hours. A repetitive questioning, a series of self-contemplations on the meaning of life and whether or not the things you've been investing a significant amount of your time and energy into are really worth the sacrifices you make. It is in these uncomfortable moments that an impetus for change surfaces. But then comes the crucial bit: the decision on whether something should be done or not. In that choice lies the possibilities of improvement, deterioration or stagnation. Which of the three becomes a reality really depends on what action is taken. Or isn't. Whatever the case may be, at the end of it all, we have only ourselves to blame for the outcomes that befall us. But conventional wisdom does dictate: you cannot expect a different result if you keep doing the same things.

If you had imagined I'd been slacking, think again, dear readers. Despite the apparent lack of posts for some time, this writer has been very much busy. If not writing, then reading, lazing about or hanging out with family, friends or the boyfriend. And of course, daydreaming, the healthy hobby of all good writers. In any case, I am happy to report that with the absolutely marvellous weather that Petaling Jaya has been enjoying lately (read: rainy), it's no surprise that I've regained some creative juices at long last. For the ignorant ones, I am a full time writer who writes mostly business/non-fiction stuff for my day job. Boohoo. More often than not, this results in the creative tendencies of my brain getting quashed to make room for the logical and commonplace. But my heart has always been sold to fiction and poetry. Yet honestly, in the typically harsh, no-nonsense culture of every day life, it's easy to sideline these seemingly insignificant forms of c...

It's my first attempt at a short children's story and I finally successfully completed one today. I am quite pleased that I've finally gotten this done. I had some difficulty in coining up an idea for the plot, so I was very much glad when I finally got one today. It took a cockroach showing up at my computer monitor at work to kickstart the idea. Funny, but it's a true story, believe you me. I'm enlisting the help of an extended family member to get the illustration done for it. All of this feels really exciting. If it all goes well, who knows? Maybe we'll be able to get something really cool out of this. I've left room for further story development involving the main characters. But whether that takes off really depends on the initial feedback that I get from this first story. I guess I should be secretive for now and not publish it here. But fear not, I will surely do so once I get the illustration done - well, at least in some form or another. I...

Latest favourite: Macmillan Dictionary Thesaurus :)

She turned to go but tripped on a pebble she hobbled her way past buses and trains but no one saw where she went or when she came There was no seat in the occupied carriages amidst the whistle blows and the chugging engines a reverie enveloped her amidst a strange silence In the falling shadows surfaced tales of old memories and familiar figures laughter and song kisses and warm embraces The sun has disappeared behind clouds as the train pulls away so do her thoughts her determination willing her to keep moving Must she stay Should she leave Ticket in hand She wrestles with dilemmas bigger than the station she stands in larger than the life she has to give She walks retracing her tracks into a door into a space only she knows and there she replaces the hopes of better things elsewhere with a newfound love for her makeshift home

"Write about a food that gives you a specific emotional response."  - From The One Minute Writer *     *     * Food doesn't really elicit much of a response from me. That's because I don't really live to eat. I guess the only time I have a huge reaction whilst eating a particular food is when it really tastes bad. Smells are important, though. If something smells really tantalising, the chances are I am more likely to think it tastes great and derive great satisfaction from eating it. Even when maybe, it might not be that fantastic after all.

Sharifah sunk into a corner at the end of the dingy toilet. The stench was overwhelming, but she did not care. Having to enter into more than 20 different toilets in a day - and for reasons other than to relieve yourself - made you immune to the worst of smells. In fact, if she concentrated hard enough, sometimes it felt as though she couldn't really smell anything foul at all. The horrid sights that she had to endure were far worse. The bloody trails left by some primitively raised girl who had no sense to clean up after her own mess when experiencing that inconvenient time of the month. The toiletbowl that got clogged because somebody just didn't get it that if a dozen wads of tissue were already embedded in there, it probably meant the flushing mechanism was out of order. It was hard to be imaginative in an environment as demoralising as these public toilets. The best she could do to console herself was to think about how clean and lovely and sweet smelling it would be w...

"If you could try out a new career for a month (magically knowing what to do, without any special training), what career would you choose?" - Source:  The One Minute Writer *     *     * Ganesh watched keenly as the artist made soft strokes onto the canvas with the paintbrush that was tightly gripped within his fingertips. He stared at the point where the paintbrush met the canvas and marvelled at how quickly a plain surface was transformed into a delightful work of art, simply with a few skillful movements from a master's hands. He sighed with a mixture of wonder and melancholy at the beauty of the completed drawing before him. How he wished he was talented in art that way. Those around the artist were applauding and verbally commending him. Everyone appeared pleased at the results. One man was patting him on the back and smiling approvingly. The artist himself seemed hugely satisfied. His large grin of contentment was unmistakable. Ganesh was wal...

Try this on for size: "Come up with a new holiday. Explain why and how it should be celebrated." *Writing prompt taken from Writer's Digest *     *     *  We should celebrate Paper Cut Day.  This holiday should be celebrated because every one of us has experienced a paper cut in one way or another during our lifetime. As small as it is, paper cuts usually occur on the fingers, and because of this, it has a great impact on our ability to do a lot of things (because we use our hands to do most things).  Hence, sometimes we need to pay attention to the small details in life. Once in awhile, just one small thing going awry can amount to great problems later on.  So, the spirit behind Paper Cut Day is to take time to cherish the small things - to mend any hurts that might have been inflicted onto the soul.  Reconnect with old friends. Revitalise an old hobby. Make amends for relationships gone sour. Take time to smell the flowers....

I used to be a programmer by profession, believe it or not. In terms of education and paper qualifications, I have a bachelor's degree in IT, from a rather distinguished university. In fact, I was employed in IT jobs for at least 2+ years previously. However, I gleefully left my IT ways behind me the moment I gained access to an editorial/writing career. It is my one of my true loves, after all.  Then, once in awhile, there comes a night like tonight, when my parents present me with some computer challenge that they are facing. And thanks to the principle of past behaviour defining future behaviour, they still think I am able to solve their problem. So, well, I try. And as how it usually goes at the first attempt, I flat out fail. Then I consult my virtual best friend, Google, and 20-30 minutes later, I've got the troubling issue dealt with. Perhaps my IT troubleshooting skills haven't left me after all. But really, this goes to prove just ONE thing: you don't h...

I miss writing fiction, so therefore, it's time for a refresher: "Write a story from the perspective of a spoon in a dishwasher." - Source: writing.com So here goes... *     *     * It's cold over here and yet, I am waiting. Nobody ever told me before that this was part of the job description. My vision is currently half obscured by the heavy porcelain plate that is stacked just right beside the spot where I am nestled beside other fellow dinner cutlery.  In any case, I can't see much. It's pretty dark. Dinner has been over since hours ago. But I guess someone forgot to put the dishwasher on. So we've been sitting idle here for what feels like centuries. Then again, we spend more time waiting than we do being used. It's just one of those facts of life, I suppose. My partner in crime, the gorgeously prickly Fork, told me that the dishwasher functions pretty much like a carwash. When I asked her what a car was, she shrugged and said she...

I'd love to delegate the responsibility of making decisions for my life to someone else. Let them think for once what I should do and the pros and cons and all the other factors involved. I'd have the hardest time delegating something I'd love to do myself, especially something creative like writing or music. That's because I'd want it done in a specific way, probably. Idea gleaned from this post

Erm. Writing isn't always fun. Especially writing for the job. Sometimes you have the most brilliant lines emerge from your thoughts. But at other times your brain feels like the dull end of ye old fashioned me-needs-sharpening kind of pencil. Today was one of the duller moments for me. After going to great lengths to source for information online, having gathered all my precious archaelogical findings together and almost causing my eyes pop out from reading what I'd found due to its sheer volume, my brain was in a state of stupor. One of the hardest parts about writing, I must say, especially of the non-fiction sort, is the part where you're just about to begin putting words down - when you've got all that you need right there with you, but for the time being it's still just a huge tangled ball of yarn stuck in your head. Once the words get recorded one by one and the sentences are getting built and the paragraphs are growing by the dozens, you are in a safe zo...