Size Seven Shoes

Oops, seems like it's been almost a year since I last posted! And much to my regret, I must say.  I keep holding out for that non-existent, pristine, spanking new blog that I keep telling myself I'll set up just so I can finally have a writing streak and churn out tons of blog posts that I'm proud to put my name to.  And in so doing, I procrastinate and postpone real writing to some moment in the distant future where it never happens.  Perfection rarely happens. Yet I wait here for it. Hoping.  So for now I'm just back here. Plain old me. Rambling in haphazard ways, big and small.  How have you been, dear Reader? I do miss talking to you. It's just that most days, I don't feel I have anything significant to offer. It just all feels like it's too ordinary to even talk to you about.  I have a relatively new Bluetooth keyboard right now though. So the clickety clack rhythm of it is helping me push some words out.  It's Sunday morning. I have recollections...

Starting things is easy. Finishing them... well, that's another story.  I am so tempted to abandon my novel right now. I've been plodding along at it for more than a year now, and it's disheartening how slow progress is sometimes or how bleak it is in reality that my story will ever find a decent home for itself someday. Even the email that I sent out to an acquisition editor who was previously keen on my manuscript has gone without a reply for some time now and it makes me wonder if anyone is truly keen on my novel after all.  On other matters, the year has set itself in motion by now and a somewhat new routine has been slowly emerging. It's a little hindered right now though as both my kids have fallen ill and therefore, school attendance will be temporarily put on halt as they recover. Influenza B, it seems. Rather unexpected, but I guess this is bound to happen at some point to us.  I guess I'm just glad that I seemed to have gotten away without having contracte...

 Heya! It's the New Year!  I want to say that I'd like to write more this year. Write more of my own stuff, and not just the things I have to write for work and other such related obligations. But I hesitate to say it is so because almost always when I do, it doesn't happen.  So maybe I shouldn't say anything and just write. And let things take place more organically.  Oh, I don't really know. Gahh.  In any case, I would really like to have a nicer home for my blog. I'm contemplating recreating a Wix site and dumping EVERYTHING there. Photos, portfolio, blog posts, author material, etc.  But well, we shall see.  And I'm still plodding on in my novel. Though I've delayed a good few months sending it off to the acquisitions editor whom I was communicating with during the last quarter of last year.  YES, that did happen. Indeed. I still can't believe it. But, oh, will I be too late? Aargh.  Okay, gotta go for now. I shall return soon, I promise....

Oh, hello there.  It's another late night episode, and it's just you and me once more.  Well, it's been quite awhile since I've blogged so I guess it's about time I got back into it. And it's nice that you're here to keep me company.  I've just emerged from completing a copyedit job, and I've been living so much in a world created by someone else that it's so hard delving back into the real world AND even more so, the universe I had created myself (and need to return to), both of which seem like they're always threatening to fall apart at the seams at some unsuspecting moment.  I'm literally balancing a book on my lap as I type this. It's a book published by Harper & Collins, and it's by another pretty established Malaysian author. One who seems to have recently gained some degree of attention overseas, and I'm glad for her, of course... Just that I don't know why, it makes me feel lousy because of all the things I sho...

'Twas my father's birthday yesterday. He turned 76. I often think about how many more years I'll have with my parents nowadays. Especially in this present season where it seems like Death is on a roll lately.  I fear sudden endings that I am not prepared for.  It's always extremely easy to fall into the trap of taking things for granted when everything is within reach and just right in front of you. Like I can call or message or pop by to see my Pa or Mum anytime. And so I worry that I'll not take the notion of limited time seriously enough.  But so far, I think I can say that I don't really have that much regrets.  I mean, I chose to stay in the same city and in a location close to my parents all this while. And we do meet fairly regularly. So there's that at least.  Meanwhile, it made me a little sad yesterday when Pa told me that not many people had remembered his birthday at church. I'm usually not one to remember other people's birthdays and to ...

I'm not really sure where to begin, but basically, I just want to say that I attempted a novel these few months and that I finally entered it into a contest. There's more to be told about that particular manuscript than what I'm letting on right now, but let's just leave it at that for now.  I'm mostly here just to say that I feel like I'm still recovering from the entire exercise of writing the thing. I ought to term it my 4am Novel because that was what it was in reality. Most of it was crafted at that very hour each night, and in little spare moments I somehow managed to squirrel away throughout the day, any chance I got.  It's so HARD writing much of anything at this phase of life as a mother and wife. In fact, it's amazing that I can even keep a semblance of a freelance career afloat at all. So you just imagine... with creative writing projects like the one I just mentioned sitting at the tail end of this long list of priorities, there's hardly ...

 I take my specs off and attempt to clean it yet another time. My frustration grows as I still fail to pinpoint exactly where the smudge on the lens is at. This dim bedroom lighting is definitely not helping.   Staring at the laptop late at night like this is a challenge, and I feel as though it is getting worse lately. At times, it feels like I have to strain my eyes just to focus on what's on the computer screen.  I've just sipped up the last few dregs of my homemade iced coffee. I'm now savouring as much as I can of the remaining ice cubes in my glass. I'm popping one into my mouth every few minutes, sucking it till they dissolves into water once more that trickles down my throat.  My husband is snoring. My sons are asleep too. It's 4+am in the morning. And I am trying to work. But concentration is hard to come by. And my progress seems so slow.  The deadline for this copyedit job is creeping up in just a few days.  Meanwhile, I fleetingly consider ...

 So many hindrances to writing lately.  There's this neverending list of outstanding chores. And the immediate family needs, whatever those may be at any particular point in time.  Meanwhile, paid editorial work should always take precedence, should it not? Hence, all passion projects and personal ambitions will need to be sidelined whenever a new income stream emerges. I should be thankful, yes?  Then, there is this issue with my specs that cropped up lately. The coating has been peeling and it's starting to get in the way of my line of vision. I mean, like, literally. The light bounces off the affected areas on my specs and then it bothers my eyes as though there's a constant glare in my eyes.  And my son keeps making ad-hoc requests to use the laptop. To do online searches and to read random stuff online. To play games. To video call his friend.  Not to mention that I am oh-so-tired over this Chinese New Year season. Everything ang ang, including the cur...

So I've been trying to make inroads into authorship lately.  It's not the first time I've tried writing creative stuff but I think I don't try doing it often enough. Also, out of the many times that I have actually made attempts, there have been only a handful of occasions where I have successfully produced something.  Mostly, I stick to poetry and short stories because those were things that have always seemed manageable to me. I have now and then also tried writing longer forms of fiction in the past, mostly for Nanowrimo, and those have all failed.  I am currently attempting to write a novel (or two or more!) in order to enter it into a competition. Such gradiose ambitions. I don't even know if I'll really make it in time for the deadline.  I guess for now I'll just be content if I can have a manuscript written out. Perhaps nothing much will become of it, but if I could just write one and complete it, maybe something magical will eventually happen.   And...

I've always wondered: Would you know it when your life is reaching its end?  So many ways that a person could die. Some of which happen really suddenly, while in other cases, it is a slow buildup to that final day and hour.  We cannot choose how we will leave this life. But will we at least have some kind of premonition or warning before our time comes?  I suppose I will never know until that fateful moment arrives.  And I guess I'm thinking about these things a little more than usual because of several recent deaths of people I used to know.  Also the fact that I am turning 40 this month.  What does a life amount to at the end of it all? Will it count?  I guess the most I can hope for is that God will be merciful enough to offer a gracious ending. 

Once upon a time, I was an Inexperienced Mum, and prior to that, I was an Uncertain Wannabe Mother. And way before that, I was a Curious Bride and a Desperate Single Girl.  All these various hats and personas I've had over the years... all led to who I am now...  And I'm just a regular Wife and Mother now.  Am I happy?  In all honesty, I actually am.  I don't think I mind being normal that much. So long as I'm with the ones I love.  Ah, but I digress somewhat.  I guess I came to say that having lived through those various phases in the past, perhaps I should talk about them to you, my dear Reader, so that should there be a chance at all that you had felt/thought like I had back then, perhaps there may be some comfort to be had in the words I am telling you.  Where would you like to start? At the very beginning or somewhere in between?    

I've never been so grateful for ordinary days as I am right now.  We've just had one too many incidents taking place in our family over the past month or so that a mundane, uneventful day feels like a gift.  Back in the days of our youth, I think many of us would often mutter about things being boring. But maybe something being boring is a good thing. Because there are moments where things are far too exciting than they ought to be and that could potentially be paired with some form of tragedy coming to call.  A friend of mine quoted me a Chinese saying about this: "A life without major celebrations or major tragedies is a blessed one."  Perhaps at a different season of my life I might have not seen the significance of this perspective on life. But I certainly do now.  So thank God for another perfectly normal day.  I'm glad just to have my life filled with them as long as that means I get to have the ones I love close to me and I get to be at peace and enj...

It isn't that there aren't things I want to say. It's just I keep having trouble on how to say them.  And then I procrastinate, and procrastinate some more. So it never gets put down into writing. And the lull on this blog continues to fester.  There's also my indecision on what to do about my Wordpress blog. I do love that blog still, and it holds great sentimental value since it had its beginnings in a birthday gift that was given to me by my husband very early on in our marriage.  Sigh.  But... the ads.  The ads ruin it.  Anyway, back to THIS blog, I still can't figure out when something is significant enough to warrant a blog post honestly.  I do just want to write.  But I want it to NOT be boring or uneventful but my life feels rife with ordinary things.  I've an ex-colleague or two or more who have published books. Who carry out successful freelance careers. Who have admirable hobbies and accolades and every other thing that I don't....

 If only it really existed.  This little bit of hopefulness, playfulness that's just round the bend.  Those things that if you wish for hard enough, would actually come true. Just because it is so.  That in the dreariness of every day living, there could be an escape just waiting for you. With a blink of an eye, a gasp, a twirl, a leap... something would emerge.  Something lovely and fluffy and kind. Comforting and welcoming and enduring.  I could really use a dose of whimsy and magic today. 

Whatever happened to the days when people just wrote about themselves and their lives candidly, without too much concern for how polished it would appear, or how much engagement it would stimulate online?  I know it's unlikely there will ever be a similar season once again, but I do miss the era where blogs reigned supreme. I probably have said this before in past blog posts, but I guess the sentiment never goes away and keeps bubbling back up to the surface.  So I just keep bringing it up.  I recall a time growing up where so many people in my life owned personal blogs and actually made time to frequently update them. It was great being able to have such a huge writing community, so to speak. I mean, they didn't all think of writing in as fond a manner as I do, but nevertheless they wrote.  And words are my kind of romance.  Most of us even had a special corner of our blog where we would showcase a list of all our friend's blogs.  It was a great shortcut t...

 ... and I'm wondering where You are.  How fully occupied spaces now seem vacant.  And undeniable evidence has dwindled to the point of questionable existence.  While everyone carries on, like not a thing has changed Oh, but it feels like  Everything has. 

Some time back I signed up for an editorial mentorship program. I literally registered for it, and promptly forgot all about it. That is, until lately, when I received an email saying that I'd been granted a place to join the next cohort for the program.  I still wonder if I made the right decision to join such a program. The reason being I'm not certain if I'll be committed enough to see it through, given the way my life goes at the moment. Mostly because it's so wrapped up with my kids and whatever is going on in their lives.  Yet I tell myself, I'll regret for not trying.  So fingers crossed that something good will come out of the next few months, and that I'll have the determination to see everything through to its completion.  I still love being in editorial. My love for writing endures, though I would say I continue to disappoint myself with the lack of quality as well as output that can be attributed to my name.  I remember yet the tone a friend of mine ...

There comes a season every year when death rates seem to spike. At least based on my observation (not a very statistically inclined person so can't say in those terms).  From what I've noticed, it tends to be around the third quarter of the year, or the period between the second moving into the third. This sort of coincides with the timing of Ghost Month and also Halloween.  Well, in recent years, this season seems to be starting earlier and earlier. As early as this month (July), in fact.  Every year, when this season of death rolls in, I always wonder whether it will be our family's turn to be hit. Apparently, this year is one such time.  On Friday morning, we received news from foreign police authorities that my mother-in-law had passed away. She lives abroad so it was challenging on many grounds. First and foremost was us having to verify that this was genuine and not some hoax/scam. Then comes the part where we have to figure out what to do.  We are still w...

Midway through my growing years, I learned of a certain title/position known as PK. The term was new to me then, but the experience of having lived as one was certainly not.  PK stood for Pastor's Kid. And I had been one for as long as I could remember.  (Technically, I should have been called Elder's Kid since my dad was recognised as the Elder at our church rather than referred to as its Pastor. However, delving into an explanation of why that is so will result in a different sort of long story so I shall address that only later.)  To be honest, I don't think I can ever recall a moment in my life's history when my father wasn't a church leader. It feels so much a part of his DNA that you could almost say he wouldn't be himself if he wasn't at the spiritual helm in some form or another.  So I was a PK nearly all my life and it has impacted me in very profound ways. It was both good and bad.  Perhaps I should start by listing down the good stuff.  By virtue...

Last Friday, between the hours of 10pm and 11pm, I had an accident that was both unexpected and dramatic.  I'd been ill already for several days and had not been having a good appetite. On this fateful evening, I had decided to ingest a lovely bowl of ABC soup made lovingly by my mother in hopes of overcoming this recent spell of malnutrition.  This act unfortunately led me to the toilet with a stomach ache. I began to feel faint while cleaning up in the toilet and very suddenly passed out. In the process, I fell face forward and hit part of my face and my teeth onto the step at the entrance of the toilet.  Consequently, I had parts of 2 front teeth knocked out and lots of blood oozing from the injuries. I also had the misfortune of smashing my phone at the same time.  Although I've had several fainting spells over the years and this isn't exactly the only time, this incident was definitely the most severe and the first time I experienced harm to my body due to becom...