"I don't think that being a strong person is about ignoring your emotions and fighting your feelings. Putting on a brave face doesn't mean you're a brave person. That's why everybody in my life knows everything that I'm going through. I can't hide anything from them. People need to realise that being open isn't the same as being weak."

- Taylor Swift

Monday, December 29, 2008

The Six Wives of King Henry VIII

Everyone knows King Henry VII of England - how he tore apart Britannia in his desperation for a son, who ended up being a daughter, who ended up being the greatest queen England has ever seen.

But his wives are sometimes brushed aside. And the funny thing is, I can relate to every single one of them.

For the uninitiated, this is a crash course on The Six Wives of King Henry VIII (it's very brief - it took me five years to remember everything about them, and you only have about five seconds).

Catherine of Aragon, born Infanta Catalina de Aragon y Castilla, was a Spanish princess and widow of Arthur, Prince of Wales, who was Henry VIII's elder brother. She married Henry VIII and was coronated beside him, and they were married for about twenty years. Henry, dissatisfied with the issue of the marriage - Catherine only managed to bear one surviving daughter, who went on to be the infamous Bloody Mary - and divorced her. She died of cancer at the age of 50.

Anne Boleyn was a French-educated English noblewoman who was an infamous seductress in the court of Henry VIII. She married Henry VIII after a long courtship when he finally managed to break off from his marriage to Catherine of Aragon, breaking England away from Catholicism in the process. She was the mother of England's most famous and well-known queen and icon, Elizabeth I, although her failure to bear a male heir caused her to be charged with fabricated charges of adultery, incest and treason and was beheaded in the Tower of London.

Jane Seymour was the third and favourite wife of King Henry VIII, whom she married a few days after his previous wife, Anne Boleyn, was executed. She dutifully fulfilled her duty as queen and royal baby-making machine by producing a son, although she died in childbirth.

Anne of Cleves was a German princess who married King Henry VIII as part of a treaty to improve relations between England and Germany. She was never crowned and her marriage was never consummated as the King disliked her ugly and unfashionable appearance.

Catherine Howard was a young English noblewoman who married King Henry VIII shortly after he annuled his marriage to Anne of Cleves. Young, naive and pretty, she ignored and misunderstood politics and was eventually beheaded for charges of adultery and high treason like her cousin, Anne Boleyn.

Catherine Parr was a twice-widowed, childless English noblewoman who is best known for being the queen who 'survived' Henry, alive and still married. After Henry's death she married her long time lover, Thomas Seymour, and after a scadalous turn of events involving the young princess who was the future Elizabeth I, she died of childbirth shortly before her husband was executed for treason.

So there you have it - the most simple and to-the-point history lesson of the century.

I can relate to Catherine of Aragon because of her strong sense of duty and pride, and her belief in destiny - not that my destiny is to marry some English king. I also understand her feelings of betrayal - twenty years of enduring miscarriages and failed pregnancies whilst your husband chased other women, and then he turns around and divorces you. Ouch.

Anne Boleyn is by far my favourite of Henry VIII's wives - I think she's misunderstood, like I am. I love her daring goals, her bold ambitions, her rebellious nature and defiant personality, and how she quite literally gave birth to a new England - in the form of her daughter, Elizabeth I.

Jane Seymour is often portrayed as meek and timid, a doormat, or at the very least a pushover, but you must admit, in a time where being bold meant having your head cut off, she played it safe - but died anyway.

Anne of Cleves also played it safe - she made the best of a bad situation. I know what it's like to be discriminated against for being ugly and different.

Catherine Howard was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time doing the wrong thing. At least I get let off with humiliation and embarassment - she gets let off with an execution.

Catherine Parr defied the odds - something I hope to do - I mean, c'mon, she survived something that claimed the lives of five women. That's pretty damn good.

I don't know why I wrote this. Do you know why I wrote this?

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

My Dog is Weird

My dog is really weird.

Okay, so she's not my dog - thank heaven for that, if she were mine I would have seriously done something about her brain damage by now - she's my sister's who failed to put any sense into that ball of fluff because she was so adorably cute.

She is cute, but she looks so dumb - she is dumb. She has exactly five words in her impressively small vocabulary, only two of which she fully understands and attempts to remember with enthusiasm - the others she isn't quite sure of. Originally, we thought 'at least she's smart enough to know her name' but we found out that wasn't the case - you could call her 'Boot polish' or 'Tomato soup' and she'd respond, comically cocking her head to one side, as long as you said it in the same high pitched voice as we'd used to call her by her real name 'Skye'.

She is the most disobedient dog in history - I'm actually surprised we managed to toilet-train her to go outside rather than on our beds, where she sleeps. She only knows one command - 'Sit' - but she only obeys it when there are considerably large food rewards, and even then, only when she feels like it. Her favourite pastimes are eating, sleeping, annoying our other dog, eating, sleeping, barking, eating, sleeping, building a mini London Underground in our back lawn, eating, sleeping, looking dumb, eating, sleeping, acting dumb, eating, sleeping, being dumb, eating, sleeping, playing with the water in her water bowl, eating, and sleeping.

Edward Cullen thinks that Bella Swan is entertaining when she sleeps - well, he should get an eyeful of Skye when she sleeps - which is about 90% of the time. She sleeps, four paws in the air, on her back, absolutely no modesty at all. When she dreams, she yaps and barks and flaps her paws around. It's so funny.

You're probably thinking - why am I writing this? Isn't it a bit spontaneous?

Well, it is spontaneous, and I am well known for being a very spontaneous person. But do you know what inspired me?

I was helping mum with preparing the Christmas Eve dinner in the kitchen just now, and as I was finishing up a job, I peered over into the living room to see if the T.V was still on.

And there was Skye, all alone on the sofa, head on paws with a very serious expression, watching the news gravely.

What the heck?

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

I've deleted you. I'm sorry, but mummy can't afford looking after you,

Lady Renegade

I've deleted my blog, The Diary of a Misunderstood Princess. Why? Because I can't be bothered putting anything onto it.

Friday, December 19, 2008


Whoever said true friendships last forver,
Lived in a world of lies,
Because some friendships,
Sooner or later,
Will meet their demise.
But it doesn't matter how it ends,
It just matters how it was,
Because every friend,
Past or present,
Are worth their weight in gold.

Through all my years at primary school,
I've had many friends.
Some have stayed with me time after time,
Some just came and went.
But a true friend never becomes an enemy
And they never stop being friendly.

A friendship is not a relationship without arguments or tears,
It's not bliss,
It's better,
Every moment

Friendships don't have use-by dates,
Instruction manuals or user warnings.
Everything is trial and error.
And sometimes, your trial is too bold,
Your error too great.
But mostly,
You work things out,
As time and events unfold.

So as our time together draws to an end,
It becomes clear that some friendships will last forever.
Others will drift away,
And happy times,
Become happy memories.

This is the poem I wrote and read out for my graduation ceremony, which turned out to be a disaster... but anyhoo, I hope you like it. I only changed one thing from the original version - I just edited out the name of my primary school for privacy reasons.

Everyone else (who didn't recite poems - just regular speeches) wrote about all the good things that had happened, misting over the dark side of primary school. They created a picture so free of of error and mistakes, it was hardly realistic. Like they were royal painters in a vain attempt to make a portrait of an ugly queen more sympathetic.

I was the first person ever to submit a poem to be considered as one of the six speeches. I was competing with a lot of people - speeches are memorable and exciting, a rare opportunity - and I hoped that my unique approach to the challenge would secure my place. It did, although reception of my poem was clearly mixed.

You see, teachers are used to students who cover up all faults, both intentional and accidental, without a second thought. Originally, my poem was rejected for being 'too dark' - but she'd only read the first two lines. That to me was judging the book by it's cover - or, in this case, judging a poem by it's first two lines.

So I was very careful to create a poem that conveyed my opinions clearly, but light enough so that teachers could hardly object. Other teachers liked the emotion that fueled the poem, and I received some commendation for that. Some students blindly praised me, as they always do, some congratulated me genuinely and affectionately. Others, either resentful of my coveted talent, openly critizised every possible angle of the poem, some accusations of which were actually quite funny - so obscure and bizarre. Others, bitter at having the finger of blame pointed indirectly at them, especially in this verse:

Through all my years at primary school,
I've had many friends.
Some have stayed with me time after time,
Some just came and went. etc.

Just glared at me, incapable of producing a sufficient accusations, mostly because I didn't mention any names or specific cliques - I'm not that dumb.

I published this on my blog mostly because I like posting my poems, but also because I really want to know:

What do you think?

Thursday, December 18, 2008

The New Chapter Awaits...

It's all over.

Primary school. Finished.

There was lots of laughter, lots of tears. I joined in blindly. Now it's just...over.

It took me a long time to get home - I went to every part of the school, trailed my fingers along the fences and walls, twirled around every pole like I did when I was little. I closed my eyes and ran through every memory I had as a child.

I don't think the book is closed, in that sense. I've turned the page over, begun a new chapter. The next episode in the most enthralling and exciting saga I know of - life.

Life as I knew it isn't gone, it isn't a book put back on the shelf - it's a chapter that is hidden by a new page. I'll never have the thrill of reading each word, experiencing each event as they come again, but every now and then, I can flip back to the beginning of the book and relive a few moments. The world hasn't closed on me - it's opened up even more.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Yet Another Blog...

Yes, I have another blog.

Now that Splinters in Our Hearts has gone public, I have my new 'me space', and no, this one will not go public. Not that I regret making Splinters in Our Hearts a combined effort, but I need some me space.

It is a private blog, and if I have given you an invitation to Splinters in Our Hearts then it is most likely you will be invited to my new blog, The Diary of a Broken Hearted Princess.


Graduation = Emotional Tornado.

It started out great. Filed on, recited my poem perfectly (go me). Then the awards came.

I didn't expect to get a citizenship award. I am too rebellious to be considered a kind, concientious citizen. I think the people who got the citizenship awards deserved them - except for my ex boyfriend, don't quite know how he managed to deserve that. The endeavour award was also a no-go zone, because...I don't try too hard at things. I have no incentive. There is no reason to work for people who don't appreciate your work. I don't want money or food or rich bits, all I want is someone to appreciate my work. No appreciation = no work. The world has to live by give and take, not give give give and get nothing back, or vice versa.

I knew there was no hope for Sport, Maths or Science, either, because I do try hard in them, and I get passes - Bs and Cs - in them, but I'm not brilliant. There are better mathematicians and sportsmen and scientists out there than the likes of me.

I knew that the only three awards I would have any hope for were the LOTE, English and Music awards.

I wasn't really hoping for the LOTE award - it wasn't much of an honour. I was, however, hoping for the English and/or Music awards.

At the start of the year, I wanted both. Throughout the course of the year, though, I've humbled myself. One award would do - no need to get cocky. My sister lived with one - and I would survive with one too.

The English Award I wasn't entirely sure I'd get. I knew that she'd look at English homework sheets, most of which I hadn't turned in. But I was pretty strong in Reading, Society and Environment and, of course, writing, so I knew I stood a pretty good chance.

The Music Award I was a bit more confident in. I wasn't the best musician, but I was the principal violinist, the concert master. And no-one had contributed more to the music program than I had.

The English Award went to Bubbly, one of my best friends. That was a blow, but I was more prepared for that blow than the next one.

The Music Award went to the lead cellist in the school. He's a good musician, better than I am, but he didn't really contribute to the school at all. He's only in the orchestra, and the choir because he's forced to. He was given a role in the school play to play a 'nerd', but that wasn't by his own merit.

Blow after blow.

Eight years of working for this school, eight years of being the weirdo, the freak, the nerd, and this is all I get.


I'm not overconfident or showy. I'm not cocky or arrogant or over-expectant. I'm not demanding, and my ego isn't too big for my brain. Just when I start to feel confident, feel good about myself, they pull the rug out from under my feet.

I'm nothing. I'm not even a good writer. I'm just a stupid girl with stupid dreams and a stupid life.

It's All Happening So Fast

It's all happening so fast.

But is it happening too fast? Or not fast enough?

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

1,2,3,.................4,5,6...getting bor-KABOOM

Everything is happening so fast.

One minute I was a dorky twelve year old dreaming of high school. Then entrance exams. Fights. Crushes that went too far. Betrayals. New friends. More fights. Laughter. Tears.

Now graduation.

We've had a lot of time to come to terms with leaving behind life as we have known it for as long as we can remember. Dancing lessons. Endless talks of 'In highschool it's completely different'.

But it didn't hit me I was leaving, going to the big bad world of highschool, until today, the day before officially graduating and two days before saying goodbye primary and hello high school. Writing my speech for the ceremony. Still didn't sink in that I was never coming back, moving forward without a backwards glance.

All this year I've complained how much I've hated primary school, how much I just can't wait to go to high school, where finally I might be loved and accepted by more than just five people.

But now I've begun to see the little good things hidden in primary school, the things I had never really took for granted, but accepted as my right. Leader of the orchestra without any effort. Easily the best writer without any blood, sweat or tears. Even coming within the top five in mathematics, my worst subject apart from sport and art, would be an honour I would have to live without in a place of 170 thirteen year olds that are just as good as me, some much, much better.

Of course, the bad things are still there. The teachers that confuse twelve years old with twelve months. The pathetic, bunsen burner-less science courses that all seem to be exactly the same. The boring homework, the unchallenging curriculum. The bitchy girls. The heartbreak of unrequited love.

But all of it, good and bad, is familiar. It's all I've known for eight years.

And even though I hate it, I'm finding it hard to give it all up - to just let go and venture out into the exciting unknown.

Saturday, December 13, 2008

(Don't) Kiss My Ass.

I hate it when boys don't look at my face, my mind, my brain, my soul, my heart. They just look at my body.

Okay, I don't pretend to have a supermodel body. But, I am older than most kids in my grade, being a February baby, so my body is more...developed than the others. My hourglass. My boobs. My bum. My stomach is starting to flatten.

But seriously, is that all boys care about? Can they just love me, and not my booty?

I catch boys checking me out all the time. It's really sick. It makes me feel so cheap, like some call girl or something. It's so degrading that boys just look at me for what I look like, not for who I am.

And I'm not even pretty. They don't look at my face. Or my legs, because they're so horribly scarred.

I'm just an object to them, empty and eye candy. Not a girl, not a being, not a soul.

How Do You Defy?

How do you defy all that is expected of you?

How do you defy the odds?

How do you defy life, and death?

How do you defy all stereotypes?

How do you defy all you love, and all you hate?

These are the questions I ask myself, time after time. How do you defy?

I Heart Twilight!!!


My first ever Girl's Night Out. Watching Twilight. YAMEE!!!

I went with Nyshie and Bubbly (aka Fifi but she doesn't like that name). Carina was going to come, but she couldn't, so it was just us three with Bubbly's mom and sister.

The commercials drove me crazy - fifteen minutes of them! I ate half of my popcorn (which came in Twilight box) and sipped impatiently at my soda (which came in a Twilight tumbler). Then it started.

I could hear my heart fluttering, fluttering.

It was brilliant. Not as good as the books, sure, but certainly not disappointing.

The first section was a little slow, but that was sort of necessary to build up the tension. My doubts of Robert Pattinson completely flew out the window - he was the perfect Edward. He just captured the anger and self-hate so beautifully, it's easy to forget he doesn't look anything like the Edward in my mind.

"As if you could outrun me! As if you could fight me off!"
- Edward Cullen

But he couldn't match up to Kristen Stewart, who plays Bella Swan, the main female protagonist. She's a legend.

"I'd never given much thought about how I was going to die. But dying in the place of someone you loved...seemed like a pretty good way to go"
- Bella Swan

Charlie Swan, played by Billy Burke, was a crack-up. Sooo funny. The whole pepper-spray and "I'll keep her safe" were two running gags that were continually popped up through the whole movie.

My personal favourite character (aside from the totally hot vamp boys - Ed and Jazz)? Alice. Alice is awesome. Alice is just...Alice.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Real Women Have Curves

You just can't win.

When I was a pre-teen (and I count myself as being teenager since twelve, because medically I am considered a teen) I wished I had curves. My sister was skinny and curvy and gorgeous and all the boys loved her. I was the fat little dumpling who was too short, to pudgy and far, far, too flat to be sexy.

Now my sister is so skinny her bones are poking out (long story), and I'm the one with the almost-flat stomach and the curves. Oh, but no boys for me. Just jerks that check out my ass and are conveniently too short to look me in the eyes, if you get my drift.


Tuesday, December 09, 2008


It's easy to say that you're loyal to your family, your club, your friends.

But when are we ever loyal to ourselves?

I for one have just begun being loyal to myself, my rebellious persona, my fish-outta-water status and fiery attitude all included as part of the package. I'm beginning to love myself - for who I am, who I was and what I could and can be. Do you guys ever look at yourself in the mirror and say 'I love you'?

I am at heart a writer, and a rebellious one at that. I am far from studious, although when I was young I tended to be just a bit bossy and goody two shoes. I think now I'm beginning to be truthful to myself.

It is easier to defy the odds, defy all that is expected of you and be simply who you want to be when you love yourself.

Sometimes, you feel like you need to blend in, or be the person that the boy next door wants you to be to garner his attention. I've learned the hard way that that...just doesn't work. And whilst you're busy trying to impress this guy that will never like you, you're missing out on the attentions of a guy that would really like you for who you truly are, without all of your masks.

Follow your heart - it will tell you what to do.

Saturday, December 06, 2008

Why Can't A Man Be More Like A Woman?

I just took the words right out of Henry Higgins' mouth and inverted them. Why can't a man be more like a woman?

Okay, I don't really mean it that way. If we didn't have men women wouldn't have crushes, or boyfriends, or fiances, or husbands, they wouldn't have someone to kiss and they wouldn't have someone to nag or hug or a shoulder to cry on.

So I'm not saying we should exterminate all men, or sex change them all, for that matter. I just mean that men need to learn more from women, and not go 'I'm a man and so bloody charged up with testosterone that I can do any bloody thing and I want and it will be so bloody right that I will be hailed as a bloody saviour'

Things just don't work that way.

Men aren't sympathetic for women. Women are sensitive, in one way or another, and are delicate - either physically, mentally or emotionally, or all three. Women go through tough times - unrequited love, crushes, bad boyfriends, getting dumped, PMS, childbirth - you name it women have to go through it - wherelse men just seem to wake up, get dressed in a suit that looks exactly the same to all other five suits they have, put on a tie that looks exactly the same to all other five hundred they have, go to work, come home, grumbling about dodgy buses or lousy collegues, get changed, and go out with mates! Then come home drunk, rant about how lousy the beer or the music at the pub down the road was, then fall asleep, keeping their poor wife, who has probably been slaving all day, awake by snoring as loud as they can! If you can call that snoring - men don't snore, they impersonate chainsaws.

If a woman says she has a stomach ache, it's not from food poisoning. If she says she doesn't want to swim, it's not because the water is too cold. If she's grumpy, it's not because she hasn't had enough sleep. If she screams at you, it's not your fault (actually, it is, but anyway...). If she stains the sheets, it's not because she wet the bed.

Women have it tough. The pressure to be sexy is ever present and crippling. Men have to be understanding, kind, sympathetic.

Everything they're not.

Thursday, December 04, 2008

Good Girl Gone Bad Rebel

I'm not a good girl gone bad. I'm a good girl gone rebel. Rules are not made to be followed, or broken. Rules are made to be bended.

See, we have this rule at school that hair longer than shoulder length has to be tied up (stupid rule). We also have a no-makeup rule.

No-one 'breaks' these rules. Almost everyone 'bends' them. And who is the only person that gets told off? Me.

Immy C wears her hair down. So do a lot of people. Lots of people wear eyeliner. Some wear clear mascara, or lipgloss. Lots of people wear tinted moisturiser, like me, and that isn't even counted as makeup anyway - it's classified as suncream.

I really like wearing my hair down. If you tie it up, it falls out, you lose your lackies and clips and bobby pins, you can't put your hat on properly and I look really stupid with my hair up, anyway.

So, I 'crimped' my hair by putting in lots of braids overnight, then unravelling them in the morning.

Everyone knows that curled or crimped hair is shorter than straight hair, so my hair just touched my shoulders. Perfect.

I wore my hair down to school, and a little tinted and some sunscreen lipgloss. Not my fault the curls started to unravel during the day until they eventually hung halfway down my waist, like my straight hair normally does.

I got told off six times. SIX TIMES!!! Immy C doesn't even curl her hair when she wears it down, and she never gets told off.

Most kids say 'Why me?' when they think they are the only ones that get told off when in fact everyone does. I say 'Why me' because, I am, genuinely, the only person that gets told off. How can she turn a blind eye to everyone except me?

How unfair.

We went to indoor volleyball yesterday, and because I didn't feel like flaunting my underwear to all the boys, I wore bike shorts under my skirt. But, despite wearing the shorts, everyone thought that when my skirt flew up they were seeing my underwear, so wearing the shorts were useless - I might as well have worn a hot pink G-string for all the good the shorts did.

There were three girls that wore shorts under their skirts - I was one of them. For the volleyball, we changed out of our skirts so we could play just wearing our shorts, just like the boys could.

Oh, and apparently, wearing shorts so boys don't see our underwear is against the rules, so I got told off, but by some miraculous miracle, the other two girls got let off the hook.

Why me?

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

Splinters In My Heart

I have a new blog!

Beware, it isn't fun and bubbly like this one (sometimes) is. It's darker, moodier, deeper, and more emotional.

But if you want to know all about the loves and woes of a twelve year old, ask politely for an invitation!


1. You have to be a girl (not meaning to be sexist).
2. I need to know you from real life or Wikipedia.
3. You can't be a boy.
4. You have to be nice to me.
5. You have to ask politely.
6. You STILL can't be a boy.

Write a nice, polite comment, and include your current email address, and I'll decide whether or not you're worthy to be a reader on SPLINTERS IN MY HEART.

Monday, December 01, 2008


Almost everyone I know wants a superpower - BSC, my other friends, both guy and girl - everyone.

Lets list a few to get you in the whole superhero mood.

Edward Cullen, the resident vampire hottie of TWILIGHT, can read minds.

Jasper Hale, the resident vampire hottie's brother who also happens to be pretty cute, can control other people's emotions and can sense and is heavily controlled by them.

Alice Cullen, the resident vampire hottie's brother who also happens to be pretty cute's wife, has premonitions based on the most likely of events that will happen in the future.

Bella Swan, the resident vampire hottie who has a brother who also happens to be pretty cute and has a totally awesome wife's sweetheart, is a 'shield' and can block any other vampire power except for her vampire hybrid daughter, Renesmee.

I do apologise that I don't know any other superheros outside of Twilight. Okay, Jedis come pretty close, and I know a tiny bit about X-Men, but....

When I was little, I wanted the ability to fly. The ability to fly seemed so cool. Now I think that the ability to fly will only induce nausea and fear instead of euphoria.

Now, all I want to do is read minds, like Edward. I really want to know what the popular girls are bitching about behind my back, why I wasn't invited to this or that, what boys really think about me. That last reason is the most important - it's infuriating, fustrating, irritating and heartbreaking beyond belief that I can fall in love so easily and just get out of it bruised and shattered. I want to know why. I want to know everything the boy thinks about me.

The ability to control emotions would be cool, but it wouldn't be binding. I could make Hayden Christensen fall in love with me if I wanted to, but it would fade as soon as he were out of my sight. What kind of love is that? It would be like a love potion, something that was bound by fate to be doomed, like Merope and Tom Riddle Snr. in Harry Potter. I can sympathize Merope Gaunt now more than any other point in my life, in more ways than I ever dreamed of.

Actually, being a witch would be cool. I can relate to almost all of the key female characters in Harry Potter: Hermione Granger, Cho Chang, Merope Gaunt, Ginny Weasley.

Hermione Granger, for non Harry Potter freaks, is one of Harry Potter's best friends and one of the only females he is close with. Her relationship with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley reminds me of me and my guyfriends, especially BSC, only my friendship with them is not quite so deep. She's academic, and is sometimes viewed as a nerd, which I totally understand, and her talent is often misunderstood.

Cho Chang, who is Harry Potter's first love interest, by the way, is another I can relate to, not just because we're both Asian. I don't quite understand her pain, because I've never had someone like Cedric Diggory so close to me that it would hurt so much if I lost him, but I know how fustrated and heartbroken she feels about Harry Potter's inexperienced and tactless dating - boys are so difficult, sometimes!

I can relate to Merope Gaunts desperation for the handsome boy that lived next door to her, and I understand why she went to such desperate measures to get him. I would have done the same, if I were as desperate and young as she was. She was very young, in her mind, dreaming of Prince Charming. She didn't know that Prince Charming doesn't exist, and he's just out there to break your heart.

Ginny's crush on Harry is something I really understand. The hardest kind of love to endure is unrequited love - it's kind of like your love is a brilliant light, but instead of fueling a light globe it reflects off a mirror back to you, blinding and callous. She got her happy ending - will I?

Ignorance is Fish

This is a funny story that I'm going to record so I can keep my mind off my not-so-funny love life. (see post below).

I went to Singapore last January to go to my uncle's wedding, and catch up with family. We went to a little resort island that my uncle part-owned for a day, to have some fun. We went climbing, flying fox, soaked in jacuzzis and swum in pools. The climbing was scary - because we had to climb to the launch pad of the flying fox, climing up a big pole - VERY big pole. We were all wired up, of course, and when we got to the very top they unbuckled us. The launch pad is a little hut thingy about ten stories up from the ground, with wooden beams around it to stop people flying up to God. The beams have a little gap in between them - wide enough for a child to climb through, and they were low enough so a reasonably fit adult would be able to slither easily on top of them.

So, I was at the top of this ten story wooden thingy, which suddenly didn't seem as stable as it looked, completely unharnessed, with a guy I didn't even know gripping my arms like tourniquets, and he said climb over.


Dude, I was unharnessed, you could drop me any minute to my death, and I was frickin ten stories off the ground, and you expect me to just climb casually over these bars, which suddenly don't seem to be so low anymore!?

Obviously, I made it, but that was freaky.

But that wasn't the main story. The title is Ignorance is Fish for a reason.

There was a big pond right in the middle of the island, and the restaurant was smack bang in the middle, supported by wooden beams. For twenty dollars during the day you could go inside these ENORMOUS beach balls and float around on the lake for fifteen minutes. I was the first kid to sign up, followed eagerly by my sister and cousins.

By God, it was hot! Really hot in those beach balls - after five minutes, I was sweltering and dizzy. But it was kinda fun though.

Later that day, after we had soaked in jacuzzis and showered and watched a decent amount of TV, we headed to the restaurant for dinner. One huge tables for adults, one huge table for kids, and plenty of seafood galore - it was an island, after all. Us kids wolfed down the steaming fish and cereal prawns (a Singapore speciality) eagerly, all of us standing up, armed with chopsticks and violently attacking the side dishes. We finished with a couple of fish bones, a few prawn heads, empty dishes, full stomachs and a very messy table.

On the wide balcony that wrapped the restaurant, there were a few of those Timezone-esque games and outdoor tables and chairs. After playing with the games, we looked into the now-black lake, and suddenly saw a great big pair of red eyes staring back at us.

They were fish. HUGE fish. Enormous and black, with glowing red eyes.

We dropped leftovers into the water (from the adults' table, of course - there was absolutely nothing edible left on the kids table) and the enormous fish gobbled them up. The biggest was the size of a shark - at least three metres long and as thick as a man's thigh.

And then it struck me.

I had waded in this pool. I had floated on the surface in a flimsy little beach ball. I could have been fish patty anytime.



I don't want to be the mistress,
I want to be the wife.
I want love and commitment,
Not pain and loss and strife.
I don't want to be the one he goes to,
When the wife isn't here;
I don't want to just materialize,
And then,

Sunday, November 30, 2008

In The Eye Of The Beholder

There are so many things that are so very subjective in this world. My talents, her beauty, how pretty is his girlfriend - all these things are really subject to opinion. I haven't quite learned how to master that - learning how to keep the odds to my favour, trying to stay positive, but I'm learning.

My talents. Sure, the statistics are all there - top 1% in writing and spelling, top 3% in reading, top 24% in math. Rock bottom in sport and art.

And the statistics are true, in a way. But not everyone has to believe them. I don't, for example.

My confidence in my writing has its highs and lows - there are some days when I think I can beat J.K Rowling in my sleep, there are other days when I doubt my writing so seriously I sink into a brief stage of depression. There are some people (my loyal friends - I love you all) who can gush about my wordplay skills for hours on end without pause; there are some that will say merely "That kid can write" or a "Do you seriously think she knows how bad she is?"

Despite the huge variation in the comments about my writing, my writing skill is the same - no worse, no better, albeit all the comments.

I have 'pretty days' and 'ugly days'. There are some days I feel like I could kick Jennifer Hawkins' butt right off the catwalk; there are some days when I feel as ugly as a little gremlin. My beauty is unique - and most of it is in the inside - so not everyone, sometimes not even me, can see it.

When I first saw BSC's girlfriend, Bethany (before they were going out), I thought she was a sweet girl, really nice, not the prettiest but definately NOT the ugliest.

Until I saw the way BSC looked at her! It was like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time - he STILL gushes about her beauty.

And now I can't see any of her flaws - I've been influenced so much by her boyfriends' comments that it's changed the way I see her. So not only is her beauty subjective, but other people's opinions are very influential.

When you're having a bad time, when you've done something bad, remember that not everyone thinks you are as bad as you think you are. But also remember that when you're on top of the world, not everyone is at the top with you.

Friday, November 28, 2008

How Old Am I?

How old am I, really?

Legally, I am twelve, almost thirteen. My reading age was fourteen when I was ten - who knows what it is now? Sixteen, perhaps more, or less? My size would indicate I'm a moderately tall twelve year old, or perhaps I could be a normal sized thirteen year old, or a very tall eleven year old.

But how old am I, truly and deeply?

Lately I've had this theory that, socially, I'm older than I really am. Twenty, or perhaps mid to late teens. I don't think I'm a tween - I never have been. Because everything I want now - a career, recognition, a life, a man - is really what a teenager, or a woman in her early twenties, would want. Not a twelve year old. Not yet. But yet I am still a child - and I think this dual age thing is what is causing all my problems. Why I'm the pariah, the outcast.

This has to be the only explaination why I have this desperate longing for a...a boyfriend sounds hokey, because I want more than that - a soulmate. Why I'm anxious to get books published, movies with my name credited, albums with my name proudly displayed on the cover. A career, and...not fame, acknowledgement.

Is it freaky that I could be a twenty-year-old in a child's body? No. Just because my desires and views are not childish whims - cravers for puppies or the latest computer games - but things that are deeper, bigger, like fear of mediocrity, the wish for a place in the world, it doesn't make me wiser, an antiquity - I'm just a girl with a timeless soul.

A timeless soul with a timeless heart and a timeless mind - that no-one seems to care about.

Thursday, November 27, 2008

I Know I'm Only Twelve, But...

I know I'm only twelve and that this is absolutely ridiculous, but this is honestly how I feel.

I just feel like there's something wrong with me. I see all these girls complaining that their boyfriend is being a goon, or that they have so many admireres they feel like a celeb, and I just think, what are they complaining about?

I was the only person stupid enough to go out with...anyway, but the rest of them have really nice boyfriends. I know most of them. They're really nice. Sweet. Funny.

I'm as good as them, just in a different way. I'm not pretty, but I'm smart. I'm not athletic, but I'm academic. But no one sees me like that. I'm the weirdo, the kid they'll only go out with if the entire female population besides me were extinct.

It hurts every time I see an 'I LUV JESSICA' or 'ILY KATE'. It kills me every time I see my friends walking hand in hand with someone else. It's like my heart snaps in two, and I can feel it.

I just don't get it. What is wrong with me? Is it really so unforgivable that I'm not good at this, not good at that, not bad at what is cool to be bad? Is it really so inexcusable that I'm me, and not some blonde bombshell? Am I really that repulsive?

At school, I have a perfect poker face. My outside shell is a rebellious, I-don't-give-a-shit girl who hates boys and everything about them. On the inside, I'm still rebellious, but I just want to scream.


Wednesday, November 26, 2008

My Moods in Music

I love music. I haven't found one mood (and I have several million moods) that I haven't been able to match to a good song.

Here are a few:

http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=H1sHAX2F4PE - Lady Sovereign's Love Me Or Hate Me (she inspired my web name, by the way). I sing this when I'm feeling loud and rebellious. It's a very bold and fearless song.

http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=D7fv5dlozk8 - The Script's We Cry. It's indie rock, and it's got lots of soul

http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=auu56uA3bfg - Hayden Panettiere's cover of I Still Believe. I sing it on those very rare times that I feel hopeful about my very helpless love life. http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=hesJR4EuUWU is another video - less cheesy.

http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=8_IT2nkvtJY - VERY good for preparing exams - and thinking about crushes. The Tide is High, by Atomic Kitten.

http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=ei5GlDtSVBo - I sing this when I'm feeling down...which I have been a lot lately... Am I Not Pretty Enough? by Australian country singer, Kasey Chambers. This is to a really good video that I can relate to, a Harrione (Harry/Hermione).

http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=vWaBeRq5kYg&feature=related - something I found in my old Star Wars days...My Happy Ending by Avril Lavigne to an Anakin/Padme shipper. Here's another video on the same agenda: http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=VUBQZZ5Ph5I

http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=-l5Sk3eVcvY&feature=related - a very, very, new find...'Bitch' by Meredith Brookes is absolutely brilliant...it's to a Hermione/Cedric shipper, something for all those Twilighters/Harry Potter freaks out there. I can really relate to Hermione here - I'm a bitch, I'm not really a lover, I'm a child, and I'M NOT A MOTHER (but I can act like one) I'm a sinner (not in that way, sicko!) I'm a saint, and I don't feel ashamed. One minute difference - I don't have so many boys looking at me. Harry and Ron in this video remind me of my guyfriend, BSC - except for the kissing part, that's just...gross.

http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=RvnkAtWcKYg - I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS SONG - Decode, by Paramore. I swear, I would like it even if it isn't the main theme song to Twilight...okay, maybe not, but I love the emotion behind it.

http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=--FUAm3uzDI - This is another song I sang when I was down in the dumps - When It Was Me, by Paula DeAnda.

http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=yF0Zu3NHH5k - I've never been much of an Obidala shipper (Padme/Obi Wan), but I love the song so much I'm not really fussed if Anakin is in it or not. I can actually relate to Obi Wan here... I'm sure my 'completely crazy and psycho friend' can guess why. The song is Love Song Requiem, by Trading Yesterday.

http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=sKDs8W2Xwm0&feature=related - Ah, I love new finds. This is my absolute favourite love theme of all time: Across the Stars, the Love Theme from Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones. I love it so much that I actually WROTE (well, arranged) a medley of love songs (this one, All I Ask of You from Phantom of the Opera and My Heart Will Go On from Titanic) and this one did feature predominantly (it starts off with this theme, and the solo at the end is based on this theme as well). I LOVE LOVE LOVE IT. So sweet, so sad, so beautiful.

Another favourite love theme, set to one of my favourite love stories: http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=EQy1SIPS1uk - My Heart Will Go On, Star Wars style. Very good - I do admire people who make videos on youtube like this one. So sad, so beautiful.

My other favourite song is Hallelujah, which I can play on the piano and sing, but I haven't found a nice clip of it.

Th-th-th-thats all folks!

The Saga Continues: The Ex Strikes Back (Again)

Three words.

Bloody. F**king. Ex.

Exes have two goals in life - find out why they got dumped, and how to make the person who dumped them life as miserable as possible.

Well, I'll tell you flat out why I dumped you. YOU'RE FAT, ANNOYING, IRRITATING AND STUPID. Who would go out with you? A silly, ignorant, petty eleven year old desperate for a boyfriend. My biggest regret.

And YOU will regret trying to make my life hell.

I'm sorry that I don't like you. I'm sorry that I, unlike you, ACTUALLY HAVE A F**KING LOVE LIFE. I'm sorry that no-one else is as desperate as I was.


Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Unfair Fairness

I have never had to not work hard for anything in my life.

I always have to fight for what I want. It's rewarding. And very, very, annoying.

It didn't bother me that much until I met BSC.

BSC is really, really, awesome. But he just seems to have opportunities for everything, opportunities that I would kill for. And they just seem to be handed out to him, whilst I'm in the shadows, just passed by. He's the sun, stunning and golden and glorious, with heroic gods in his name, whilst I'm the moon, with a few stars for friends and an endless black sky of despair, compared with beautiful, sad, maidens who just seem to have all calamity thrown at them.

I don't blame him for being the sun. I blame myself for being the moon.

I don't mind working for what I want. But I just hate that people think I'm mentally challanged just because I'm Asian. Just bluffing when I say I want to be a writer, and that I'm actually good at it, just because my skin is yellow and theirs is white. Sick of being passed by for a chance at the spotlight, always being forced to slave away behind the scenes. Punished for lack of charisma. Cursed for flaws that aren't my fault. Tired of being at the bottom, and never quite making it to the top, no matter how hard I try. Fed up with other people taking the credit for what I've done.

I'm tired of being passed by because I'm ugly, weird, polemic, female, Asian, uncharismatic and unorthodoxly gifted. I'm tired of being penalized for being me.

Sometimes I just feel like giving up. Surrendering. Sometimes I just ask myself...


How to Alienate Guys

This is the one and only trustworthy guide to boys.

Okay, I don't pretend to be experts in boys. I've only had one boyfriend - and he didn't even really count, anyway - and I have a couple of guyfriends, but they aren't boyfriends, and I don't want them to be anyway, because that would be just...weird. But I do know how to alienate boys, so if you do exactly opposite to whatever is listed below, you should be okay.

Cut the long story short, if you want a guy, just be completely opposite to me. Boys don't like me. I try, I don't try, I try really hard at not trying, I don't try really hard at trying, but nothing seems to work.



1. TRY REALLY, REALLY, HARD and make a big show of flirting

Bubblegum pink is your friend! Go completely wacko and if you see that classic 'WTF?' look on his face, you're on the right track!

(translation: Try hard but don't look like you're trying too hard. Try-hards and girls that don't try at all freak guys out. They have a very simple mind.)

2. Laugh at EVERYTHING he says - whether it's a joke or not.

(translation: KNOW WHEN TO LAUGH. If it's a funny or halfway-funny joke, laugh. If it's a really lame joke, then...I dunno. But once I tried that and he was like "Why are you laughing? I just told you my dog died". Oops.)

3. Spend ALL your money on make up and pretty clothes - this works, honest.

(translation: I tried that too. Still boyfriend-less.)

4. Ask your friend to ask him out on your behalf - he'll think it's really cute that you're so shy.

(translation: Boys don't think like that. I must admit, to have a helplessly giggly girl say "J-j-j-e-s-s-s w-w-wants t-to g-go out w-with y-you" then double up laughing would just really freak me out.)

5. Say 'we're just friends, right? Nothing romantic', and he'll suddenly wish that you were his girlfriend

(translation: Boys take EVERYTHING to heart. So don't try that.)

6. Go out with any weirdo - hey, it's a boyfriend, that's all that counts!

(translation: tried that too. DID NOT WORK. grubby little nerds will always be...grubby little nerds, whether he's your bf or not)

7. As soon as you see the guy immediately dive into a group of friends - so he doesn't think you're a loner.

(translation: if a guy likes you (and I'm speaking of BSC's experiences, not mine) he finds it really fustrating if you're surrounded by a bunch of giggling girls all the time. So if you're with your friends, just stay with them, but look over your shoulder time to time at him, but if you're not, don't go running them up.)

LUCKY LAST: (this one doesn't need a translation)

8. Be prepared to have your heart broken and broken again and again and again.

Friday, November 21, 2008

My Favourite Things

Top Favourite Things

I have a lot of favourites.

My favourite movies are probably Christopher Nolan's Batman remakes, Jerry Bruckheimer's Pirates of the Caribbean, and of course, George Lucas's Star Wars saga.

I love Batman because it isn't the average, cheesy, guy-gets-the-girl-and-saves-the-world that is a common, boring, recurring theme in superhero movies. Batman explores the emotion, pain, and anger behind the Batman, and is really intriguing and inspirational - the only superhero saga that really has depth.

Pirates of the Caribbean is the one and only pirate swashbuckler I will ever love. It's totally been revamped - and I love Keira Knightley and her character, the beautiful Elizabeth Swann, I love Will Turner (and Orli) even more, and of course, who could not love Johnny Depp's classic performance as bad boy Captain Jack Sparrow?

Star Wars is very original, very inspiring, if not poorly developed and directed. The forbidden love of the (quite literally) star crossed lovers is bittersweet and satisfyingly dark, and the fight scenes are as good as the syrupy ones.

The most anticipated movie of the year would have to be Twilight, by a long shot. Big fan of Kristen Stewart, a sort-of fan of Robert Pattinson and a die-hard Twilighter, I am a self-confessed fanpire and CANNOT BELIEVE that AMERICA gets TWILIGHT first. Hello? What about me? It's a crime to make me wait 'till mid-december!

My favourite pastimes are surfing the net, reading, blogging and writing. I love finding out new things, so Wikipedia does come in handy for that, and I love reading - Twilight, Harry Potter, A Little Princess and Pride and Prejudice top my list. I love blogging, because I think it's important that I step out of my shell a bit, and writing is just my thing. I love developing characters, I love writing action scenes and thrilling climaxes and bittersweet love stories, I love to keep people entertained and I love love love the idea that I may be a published author one day.

I love Twilight because it is so well written and original - albeit poorly developed and just a teensy bit shallow. I love the love story, and the pain, confusion and fear mingled into the dark romance is enthralling.

Harry Potter is also strikingly original as well, and very well written, with just enough humour to give you a good laugh but not too much to make it cheesy and spoil the deliciously scary moments. A Little Princess is the first classic I ever managed to read - and the best, in my opinion. Pride and Prejudice is one of the few rom-coms that I have actually enjoyed.

I love food in general - food + me = love. My favourite is Vietnamese, and I like dim-sum (or yum-cha) and everything my wacky mum cooks (well, not everything. Misth things).

I love cooking - although I'm not very good at it. I love baking - although I'm not very good at it. Cooking is good for the soul.

I also love music - I appreciate pop, rock, soul, indie, alternative and classical equally. I love r&b and hip hop - rihanna, timberland and justin timberlake top my list - and I love soul music - Bubbly by Colbie Callait has got to be one of my absolute favourites. Indie music is good as well - We Cry by The Script is my favourite song at the moment. Decode by Paramore - the official song of Twilight - is brilliant, as is almost everything about Twilight.

I also love classical music, specifically romantic classical and classical contemporary. I also love songs from musicals - My Fair Lady and The Phantom of the Opera are my favourites - and music scores! I LOVE MUSIC SCORES! Across the Stars, the Love Theme from Star Wars Episode II: Across the Stars by John Williams for George Lucas is the ABSOLUTE BEST.

I love being a rebel - that is what I am, I've embraced that now, it's not my mask, it's my soul. Good girls never made history and if you don't like me, tell someone who cares.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Sneak Peak at The Boy from Green Eaves

I want to get you guys hooked, so I get at least a handful of readers when, or if, my book gets published.

This is the only spoiler I'm releasing, so enjoy it!


The person I hated was the man I loved.
The most mysterious of beings was the one I most understood.
I barely knew myself,
I barely knew him,
But I know this.


I love, I hate,
I sleep, I wake,
I scream, I cry,
I say hello,
I say goodbye.

Stay tuned - I'm hoping it will be published late next year.


Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Reading Cards

This is a little activity I do when I'm bored: reading cards.

I don't get tarot at all and I don't have the cards, but this is how I read them. P.S, this version is specifically tailored for women, but guys can play it, although they may be a bit weirded out.

Just shuffle and pull out how many cards that match your lucky number (eg, my lucky number is five so I pull out five cards), then shuffle again, and read all in the shuffled order.

oh, and, one equals ace :)

Red Cards (Hearts or Diamonds)

King - a woman desires a lover
Queen - a woman triumphs
Jack - a woman desires a friend
10 - the journey ends
9 - the happy ending awaits
8 - luck is on your side
7 - give up now and fail forever, give up now and never prosper
6 - the worst is behind you
5 - a half completed journey
4 - death and misfortune eyes your every move
3 - an unbalanced life must be righted, be strong and don't be frightened
2 - the door is shut and faded to black; too late, it's gone, it won't come back
1 - the journey starts here - proceed, or go and never come back

Black Cards (Spades and Clubs)

King - a strong, fearless warrior
Queen - the mastermind if not the star
Jack - a loyal friend
10 - the enemy becomes a friend
9 - the friend becomes an enemy
8 - the darkness becomes light
7 - the light becomes darkness
6 - a friend in need is a friend in deed
5 - the rebellious troublemaker is actually a misunderstood renegade; help, do not ignore
4 - the misunderstood renegade is actually a rebellious troublemaker; ignore, do not help
3 - you walk the line
2 - all lies are truth
1 - all truth is lie

Example (i'll do one now)

7 of hearts - give up now and fail forever, give up now and never prosper

That gave me a lot of courage. I'm not going to give up on my writing now.

4 of clubs - the misunderstood renegade is a rebellious troublemaker; ignore, do not help

When i figure out who that is, I'll stop helping them.

1 of diamonds - the journey starts here - proceed, or go, and never come back

Wow, this thing really works!

9 of hearts - the happy ending awaits


3 of clubs - you walk the line

Of course I do. I walk the line of bitch and renegade, everyone knows that.


Monday, November 17, 2008

The Woes of a Controversial Writer

I really don't know why people have this thing against my writing. Of course it's controversial - every piece of writing in the whole world is - and if it wasn't, how boring would that be?

Writing is a vague and undefined, yet in no way unrefined art. With maths, you're either right or wrong, no two ways about it, but there is no 'right', 'wrong', 'good' or 'bad' in art. Writing included.

I fully understood that when I took GATE testing.

The GATE (Gifted and Talented Education) Test is the only way to get into extention programs at high school - otherwise you're just stuck with the rest. There are visual art, drama, music, dance, humanities, math, science and sport scholarships up for grabs - you name it and there's a scholarship for it.

For the standard academic test, the test you try out for to get into one of the many academic, humanities or maths specialist schools, there are four different sections: reading, writing, maths and mathematical IQ. Two maths and two reading, that's fair fair, right?

Er, wrong.

At primary/high school level, at least at aus, math is either right or wrong (it's only when you get to the ridiculously hard stuff where the answer is debatable). Reading is sort of like that, only I think the odds aren't in my favour because I basically taught myself the fundementals of refined English and being a second-generation Asian immigrant my comprehension is different (not wrong) to standard Australian. But writing?

J.R.R Tolkein is meant to be a good author. I can't stand his material. Same with Christopher Paolini.

Writing is subject to preference. People don't like your work? Tough.

Thank goodness my 'highly controversial' writing passed the test (at the top of the state, I might boast) and my unorthodox comprehension not far behind. I didn't finish my math test 0_o and my math IQ was pretty low, but hey, I got into the school I wanted, that was the main point.

Who wants to know about the cheesy guy-gets-the-girl-and-saves-the-world? It's been revamped too many times. Who wants to read some crappy, mysogynistic damsel in distress stuff? No. People want to read about unlucky wizards who go to school or vampires who fall in love, bittersweet tales of forbidden love or starcrossed lovers who are, quite literally, star crossed. So you don't like my work because it's controversial? Do you really think I care?

People not worth knowing love familiarity too much. Why do you think we have rascist people? Because some people are afraid of the 'unfamiliar' blacks. Why do you think we have sexist people? Because people are afraid of the opposite sex. Why do people hate controversial writing?

Because they're afraid of the unknown.

Okay, so my writing is a little strange. A spirit of a girl falls in love with a mortal man. Some churchers will curse me if that story ever gets released. A philogynistic, wealthy man falls in love with an ordinary, blunt, frank girl, and a whirlwind of calamity follows. Not exactly your average chick flick, but it's different. I'm different too.

I'm not blue eyed, blonde haired, flat stomached huge assed with absolutely no brain. I'm just not like that. I have dark hair, olive skin, my fair share of acne, and yes, I have a stomach, time to call the sheriff.

I wish people wouldn't pick on me because I put the backwards me in polemic. Why can't people see that my talent is beautiful if not perfect? That I'm not the prized silver fish, but a one-of-a-kind red fish, rare, not mutant?

Because behind this tough, rebellious image, I'm just a sad, lonely, insecure girl. Behind all the coolness of LADY RENEGADE, there is a shunned and unwanted kid who just wants to love, and to be loved in return. Behind this polemic rant there is the desperate cry of a girl who just wants to be understood. Behind my defiant persona there is a heart that is breaking, breaking, breaking, behind the not-quite-brilliant mind there is a forgotten soul.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

When I Write

When I Write

When I write,
It seems like,
All dire things disappear.
People love me,
There is no odium against me,
And for a moment,
I get praised.
My heart flies,
My spirit soars;
But only for a moment,
Then it goes.

But it's for those brief moments
Those fleeting seconds
That I endure the befores and afters
And I write.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Time to Get Tough

Ever since officially launching my writing career a few months ago (okay, I've been writing for ages, but this is the real thing) I've cracked down on books. Sometimes the standard of literature in the English world is appaling.

I have now truncated my already picky reading list - mostly because I've decided that work that I could have done better is not worth reading and the only books that are actually worth my time are true, priceless, works of art.

Now most people would say - why? Just read any old crap - it fills in time, just like reading is supposed to.

Well, partly because I LOVE LOVE LOVE reading and I LOVE LOVE LOVE gushing about the latest book I've devoured. And that is kind of hard if the book you've just read is complete shitcake.

So, this is the lowdown on the books that have stood out in my life:

Please be warned that you may not like everything written below, and I invoke my right as a free Australian to have freedom of speech. So no hatemail, please. Wait, that's not fair. If you really must send hatemail, please send it to my email address, princess_geesu@hotmail.com under lady renegade sux!. Thankyou.


I can't read Tolkein. I seriously can't. I think the ideas and storylines and setting and characters are great, but the actual books go right down the tube. 'Great Literature' is not 'Really good ideas completely wrecked by shitty writing'. End of story.


I really can't stand this guy. He's not that brilliant, really. All his books are almost completely copied directly from The Lord of The Rings. I mean, my writing is influenced quite a bit from Twilight, but at least it is THE BOY FROM GREEN EAVES and not TWILIGHT REMADE. THE LORD OF THE RINGS REMADE would be a much more appropriate title than 'Eragon'


Good points: This girl's got talent. Seriously. The prose, the dialogue, her style is brilliant, something no-one will ever be able to match up to. Incredibly complex but still easy and enjoyable to read. Heartbreakingly romantic but not gooey and barf-inducing. Only American author that really stands out to me.

Bad points: The character development is a little shoddy - especially Bella. She has virtually no personality once she is turned into a vampire - her main defining characteristics - stubborness, clumsiness - are all just human reactions to her shockingly beautiful boyfriend. And really, I know she's mentioned that she doesn't intend Bella's life to be a perfect role model for teenages, but, intentional or not, people will start to look up to Bella, good and bad. A girl's destiny should not be to hook up with some gorgeous vampire.


I must admit, there is only one small bad thing that sours J.K Rowling's gloriously sweet Harry Potter series. It's children's literature adored by boys, girls, little children, pubescent adolescents and teenagers, and even adults. An absolute gem.

The only small bad point is that the ending is seriously bad. Unrealistic and cheesy. But that's it. The rest is all praise.


The Secret Garden: good idea but poorly written

That's my little rant over. I can't wait for you guys to review my books...when they get published. If they ever do.

Monday, November 10, 2008

What Turf?

What Turf is my new way of saying WTF, or what the f**k. I got it off a blog, I think.

Anyway, what is with the 'Cheeky Quote' now?

"I hear voices in my head and they don't like you" - Edward Cullen.

I consider that an insult - I am a self-confessed TWILIGHT fan and I LOVE LOVE LOVE Edward Cullen (and Jasper Hale) and that is not the right quote. The quote is from Twilight and it is "I hear voices in my head and you think you're the one that's mental", or something like that.

Despite that slurr, I'm all hyped up that EDWARD CULLEN has featured on my blog, even if it is only a Cheeky Quote that will disappear within the next half-hour.

Friday, November 07, 2008

My Best Friends

This post is by request of La Pianista - believe me, it is the best I can do to fulfill your request. I know, BSC, you asked first, but YOURS IS COMING!!!

My best friends. I don't have that many.

Best Friend #1: my mom
Best Friend #2: my editor
Best Friends #3: lily and edward
Best Friend #4: BSC
Best Friend #5: C.S
Best Friend #6: my completely crazy and psycho friend
Best Friends #7: my wikifriends
Best Friends #8: my computer and the internet
Best Friend #9: my piano
Best Friend #10: my violin

Don't be alarmed if you're near the bottom of the list and you thought you would be at the top. The order is forever changing - this is just the order today.

My mom is my best friend. I just don't get it when people who have no real family problems (like divorcing or drugs or alcohol) and hate their mom. I mean, sure, I get real angry with her sometimes, but I never hate her. My mom is my best friend in the whole wide world.

My editor is my lifesaver. You see, I go to a real maths-and-sports based school, which happen to be the two things that I'm not particularly fond of (okay, I love maths but I love english better, but I hate sport. Most sports) and the English standard really isn't all that high (in fact, the whole state's English standard is pretty sad), so even though I'm no child prodigy, I manage to be the top of the state in Humanities. The downside of being the top in the state (apart from the obvious jealousy, envy, teasy thing) is that there is no-one that really is your level.

I hate to boast. I don't pretend to be brilliant, especially not in art or sport. But this is something I'm good at, and I like to think that I'm REALLY good at it. Just to boost my very small ego.

So when we do peer editing, I feel incredibly guilty when I mark other people's essays and narratives - the whole page looks like it's been painted with red. My work, on the other hand, is hardly marked, which is quite annoying because I know it's far from perfect and I want some constructive critisism. Even teachers aren't overly critical of my work. I mean, they say all this crap about my work being controversial, and it is, I'm no conservative, but what I really want people to do is help me get rid of the rough patches of my writing.

So I have one person to do this for me. My editor.

Okay, she's not my official editor, but she's pretty cool nonetheless. Every week at the writing workshop that I go to (it's ending soon - sad) she meticulously reads over my work, giving it the polish it deserves, plus she endures constant bombardments of emails of my brainwaves and new ideas. She's my lifesaver. She's also awesome.

Lily and Edward are actually the main characters of the new trilogy that I'm writing - they're actually Lillian Jaymes McFee and Edward Lancaster. Yes, I know, they're not real, but one day their love story will be in bookstores all over the world, so don't diss them. Lily is a sort of cross between me, Bella Swan and Elizabeth Bennett, Edward is sort of a cross between My Perfect Guy, another fictional character of my mind, Anakin Skywalker, BSC, Jasper Hale, Edward Cullen, Gilbert Blythe, etc. Edward is always there for me and I'm always there for Lily. Simple.

BSC comes in at number four today - for reasons unfathomable to me. I have to endure a lot of teasing because of our friendship - rumours circulating that I'm jealous of his girlfriend, the one and only Bethany the Beautiful, but I'm not, just to make things clear. BSC and I are friends, nothing romantic, as I have stated numerous times. Some people don't seem to get the message. Aside from that, he's the best guyfriend any girl could ask for. Bit too tall, though...and he never listens, but then, neither do I...

What would I do without wacky, crazy C.S? She is the korean version of agua loca, literally. She's the twin sister I never had.

My completely crazy and psycho friend is one of my friends at school - and she's awesome. She has some issues with the fact that I wear makeup to school (not much, just a dab of concealer and some tinted lipbalm) but other than that (and a huge row we had a few months ago) we get along just fine.

My wikifriends - what would I do without them? I love you guys all so, so much.

I couldn't live without my computer - I'm serious, I tried to live without it, and I was suicidal for those entire ten minutes. I'm a writer and I need to write on a daily basis, and Microsoft Word comes in handy for that. Lots of people say I should write by hand, but I can't - My writing is barely legible and it's so slow and I just don't write well by hand. On the other hand, I'm a 75 wpm touch-typist and I have absolutely no problem just tapping away all day. There's also the problem of finding so much paper to write on - I can't write on unlined paper - and I lose things as soon as I find them, so at least on the computer I only lose 2 out of 3 things instead of 3 out of 2. And I hate erasers - I love the backspace key. And pens! PENS! They annoy the hell out of me.

The internet is also hugely vital, for recreational and work purposes. Because I'm trying to appeal to more people than just Aussies I set most of my work in America, but seeing as I've never been to America I have to do a lot of research - what's the legal drinking age, clubbing age, heritage sites, etc. My editor is very impressed by how much meticulous investigation I do, but I find it fun and sort of necessary - I want my work to be realistic, and I like researching. Projects that involve spending hours researching on the net and writing notes are, like, the only homework that I do (I hate doing boring old English and Math sheets - as BSC knows very well)

I know, it's a little weird to have a piano as a friend, but seriously, my piano is better than most people I know. It's a great stress reliever - seriously. You can do things to a piano that you cannot do to another human being without them retaliating. I mean, BSC has this don't hit girls policy, so he's the best punchbag, but I swear, even he wouldn't take what I do to my piano without taking a snap at me. Don't get me wrong, I love love love my piano, but, like BSC, it's one of my scapegoats. I play loud music when I'm angry or happy, and slow, sad nocturnes and love themes when I'm heartbroken, sad or feeling incredibly romantic. My favourite allegro is Allegro ma non troppo by Beethoven, although I have revamped it to make it more dramatic, something my teacher does not fully appreciate in a piece of music written in a conservative, classical era (although I have pointed out that Beethoven is not known for being conservative). My teacher reckons Beethoven has just turned in his grave. I reckon he's just danced in it.

My favourite nocturne is Notturno Opus 54 Lyric Pieces N0.4 by Grieg. Grieg is one of my favourite composers - one of my other favourites is Morning Song.

My favourite love theme is Across the Stars by John Williams, the love theme from Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones. It's so romantic and desperately sad, it makes my eyes prick every time I play it. Okay, I am very bad at playing it, I'm teaching it to myself, but I it's okay - I'll ask my teacher about the second bridge that I always miss. My other personal favourites are two Phantom of the Opera pieces: the love theme, All I Ask of You, and Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again. All I Ask of You is a bit repetitive, so I have fun mucking around with the keys - it's written in some ridiculous key - D flat major I think - so every now and then I'll transpose it into D major. It's quite interesting.

I hate studies - they're annoying - but there is one study that is okay - Con Moto, Opus 107 No 6 by Cornelius Gurlitt. It's quite...dramatic, at least when I play it is.

My violin earns me a lot of status at school. I picked it up quite easily - because of my piano career - and I climbed up easily through the ranks. It's not as hard as my classmates make it out to be - I just like being at the top, but I like to work for it.

These are my best friends in the whole wide world and I love love love them all so, so, much

Wednesday, November 05, 2008



I know, short post. but anyways...



Tuesday, November 04, 2008


Sorry if you're a Jasper and I just freaked you out. I am, of course, referring to the one and only JASPER HALE, who is totally awesome.

I took the 'which male twilight character are you?" quiz and you're right, chamal - pretending to be the opposite sex is weird. So you can stop channelling your inner female and take the test more comfortably with the link below:

I'm a Jasper! I found out through TwilightersAnonymous.com. Which Twilight Male Are You? Take the quiz and find out!
Take the Quiz and Share Your Results!

You are intelligent, obeservant and good at managing a group of people. Although you long for meaningful connections, you can be can be distant and sometimes lack self control. You are careful though and the tough experiences you’ve been through help you to work at living a better life.

Duh, of course I got Jasper. Why do you think I just mwah'd him? Because I'm drunk?

Well, maybe I am, mum put dry sherry in the dinner...

Anyways, tell me, tell me, WHICH MALE CHARACTER ARE YOU?

Move over Rosalie - I'm an ALICE

Okay, so I'm not Rosalie anymore.


I'm a Alice! I found out through TwilightersAnonymous.com. Which Twilight Female Are You? Take the quiz and find out!
Take the Quiz and Share Your Results!

I don't have anything against Rosalie - but I just figured that we don't have that much in common. I am a LOT like Alice.

I accidentally clicked the wrong answer when I took the test the first time, I was in a hurry and so tired...

But I'm officially an Alice. Gottit?

This is what was on the website:

You are intelligent, outgoing & stylish. A true girly girl, you love shopping & makeovers. Although you are a generous friend, you can be coy, tricky & very persuasive in order to get your way. You are known to zone out occasionally during conversations, but your friends forgive you because you are understanding, supportive & know how to throw one heck of a party!

Monday, November 03, 2008

Lady Renegade = Rosalie Hale - EEEE!!!!!

I'm a Rosalie! I found out through TwilightersAnonymous.com. Which Twilight Female Are You? Take the quiz and find out!
Take the Quiz and Share Your Results!

I took this quiz and apparently I'm a ROSALIE HALE!!!

Rosalie Hale is a main character in the TWILIGHT saga - the most beautiful of all the Cullens. She is described as being the most beautiful woman in the world, and is vain, tenacious, beautiful, musical, insecure and mistrustful of people.

Do I tick all of the boxes? Yes! - well, er, no, not the beauty part, but other than that, yeah. I mean, I like Alice better, but who gives - Rosalie is totally awesome.

If you wanna take the quiz, go to the site that I've put below. According to this site, my description is:

You are straightforward, tenacious, and beautiful, but unfortunately aware of it. You are attention loving, and people easily flock to you, but deep down you are mistrustful of people in general. You can be judgmental and thoughtless, but you love deeply and are extremely protective of those that you hold dear.

So yeah, that's pretty much me. Except for the beauty part - me? Beautiful? Hardiharhar - keep dreaming.

The site is:



Saturday, November 01, 2008

Judgement and Justice

Judgement and justice is handed out by a judge, but what if the judge loses all sense of judgement and justice?

I know, the title makes this post sound more like a Jane Austen sequel, but bear with me. I couldn't think of a better heading.

At school, we don't have a judge. Our homeroom teacher is the stand in judge, and you just have to pray that the teacher isn't biased or prejudiced or rascist or sexist or whatever.

Perfectly unswayable teachers are incredibly rare.

The fact remains that most human beings are biased, or prejudiced, or rascist or sexist, or all of them, for that matter. And most people don't even know it - they're sort of subconciously prejudiced or something.

Some people get THE BUG.

THE BUG is a potent disease caused by people (eg, MW) to make people do things they want them to. Sort of like weaponized black magic. So either your born prejudiced or catch prejudism.

Fantastic. I live in a brilliant world.

MW somehow managed to convince the teacher that he's found an error in his ways and will attempt to be less annoying and not make the girls cry so much, when he had a little one-on-one with her after the incident I described in 'Taste of Your Own Medicine'. And the teacher actually bought that. My teacher, I thought, was the most incorruptible and unswayable person in the school.

She caught THE BUG.

So now, whenever MW does something, and I 'dob', apparently I'm picking on him. Whenever he makes me cry, apparently, I'm being 'sensitive'.

Why am I suddenly the bad guy? What did I do? Tell someone I thought I trusted when someone made me angry, cried when I was upset. It's a free country - I can cry all I want.

And the sad thing is, out of every single person in my grade, MW is the one that's going to my high school next year.

As I said, I live in a heaven away from heaven.

What do you do when the judge has the inability to pass judgement? What do you do when the only people on your side are getting fewer and weaker?

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Taste of Your Own Medicine

The best cure for a broken soul is your own medicine. Wounds heal in time, scars fade and hearts heal.

The best part about that is that this theory also works the other way around!

I haven't met one soul that likes MW. Some can put up with him (and I must note that these are VERY Zen people), some dislike him (these are the very tolerant people), but most positively hate him. Me? I am a Professor in The Art of Hating MW, an area I pursue with passion.

MW is awful - he's the beanbag, jelly-fleshed dancer I was describing in Tralalala...dancing. He makes me cry, he makes most of the girls cry, he pisses all the boys of and even made BSC cry (once. I remember it, so don't deny it, BSC).

Every time we 'dob' on him or tell him off, we always end up getting into trouble.

Only today, hopefully, will be different.

We were only doing what MW does, only to a much smaller degree - but there were three of us (BSC, me and another guy). The other guy, who I will call 'T' because I don't feel like typing 'the other guy' all the time, was having so much fun that he managed to give MW a tiny little cut on his knee, which of course set him blubbing. T, not to be undone, also decided to get a little pen ink in the miniscule cut, which had MW tirading furiously about how infections can get caused by ink in the bloodstream. I sarcastically remarked, to keep MW going 'Don't worry, it'll only infect your brain' to which BSC said 'But seeing as you don't have one, it's moot point'

I don't really know what happened after that, but somehow MW ended up slamming T into the doorframe, to which T responded by throwing MW out the door. MW really started mimicking Niagra Falls then, the sight of his pathetic face all ateary was priceless.

I would say I felt sorry for him, but I don't. He deserves it. We've tried again and again to tell him to stop, but hopefully this taste of his own medicine will set him right.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

School Wars Episode VII: The Ex Strikes Back

I have a lot of guy friends.

BSC is my best guyfriend. We only met this year, but we get along really well. I mean, we have fights - big fights - but that's pretty much normal. He's absolutely HUGE with a bigger personality (and an even bigger ego) and a lot of fun. I give him girl advice and he's, well, not exactly a shoulder to cry on (his shoulder is a bit too high for me to reach) but he's always there for me. He's a gigantic teddy bear that has a constant stream of girlfriends/crushes, but he's not a know-it-all pompous punk. The only people that are taller than him is this Korean guy and our student teacher who is 6'7".

I have other guyfriends as well, but I won't list them all here.

Guys make really good friends. The plus side is that guys aren't bitchy - normal ones aren't, anyway - they're tough, they're understanding, and they can endure a lot of crap without cracking. On the down side, guys can be just a teensy bit insensitive, cannot take a hint for shit and have no sense of sublety.

My guyfriends are different to my girlfriends and even more different to boyfriends. Most of my guyfriends are past crushes and their friends, or my girlfriends' exes or boyfriends, so we're all pretty close. There's nothing romantic between me and my guyfriends, they're more like brothers than dates.

My best guyfriend is BSC - all of my friends are closest to their ex/es.

I, on the other hand, HATE my ex.

My ex is not exactly Hayden Christensen - short, fat, with a MAJOR case of dandruff and ecxma, a computer nerd and a math freak to boot. Now none of these things would really matter if he were really nice and sweet - which he is not.

My ex liked me back in year six, and I reckon he still likes me. I was young, silly, ignorant and desperate for a boyfriend, so I went out with him for like, a week. I mean, you had to feel sorry for the poor guy - I was known for being a little rude and obnoxious, brushing people off without a care sometimes - and it had taken him two weeks to pluck the courage. It wasn't really romantic - no roses or chocolates or valentines - just a 'wilyugoowtwifme' in the computer lab. After a week, I did the classic 'can we just be friends' on him and he seemed to take it pretty good - maybe he was expecting it.

At the beginning, he was an okay friend - it was a little awkward, understandably - but it was okay.

To be fair, I admit that I wasn't exactly the perfect girlfriend, or ex, for that matter - it was pretty much a slave and master relationship. But as I said, I was only eleven - and overconfident, proud and too smart for my own good - and he could have just told me that he didn't like it, if he didn't.

Then he started to get really horrible when year seven started. Now isn't the best time to piss me off - the hormones have kicked in and I am on a crazy emotional rollercoaster - and he was one of the main causes why I would cry, why I am still crying, all the time. It's an adolescent thing.

BSC and all of my girlfriends have been really great, but I always ask...

Is he reproachful that I have a life after our very short relationship?

Is he jealous that I have crushes and admirers after him? (I never had a crush on him, by the way. It was all pretty much one way)

Or does he just irrationally hate me?

Monday, October 27, 2008

My Friend

What if the only person you could talk to let you down?

What if the only person who makes you happy also makes you cry yourself to sleep, every night?

What if you are always there for him but he's not always there for you?

What if you get this sinking feeling that you cannot ignore or deny...

...That he's only with you...

...Because he wishes you were someone else?

Friday, October 24, 2008

Teachers. And MW. Drive. Me. Pokeynuts.


Teachers get on your nerves. Because we live in Australia, where more people are diagnosed with skin cancer than anywhere else in the world, we have this 'No Hat, No Play' rule at most government primary schools.

The idea is to promote the wearing of sunwear during the hot months.

The reality is it really just promotes hatred towards teachers. (and hats).

So teachers go around telling us off, giving us warning forms and the whole lot for going around without hats, and what do they do?

Go around without hats.

Teachers tell us off for talking during assembly every fortnight. They can rage and rant for hours, all the way until recess, which means I miss my violin class in the process.

And what do they do? Gossip away like chickens during EVERY SINGLE ASSEMBLY. I've seen them!

They tell me off for being rebellious, but really, these things GET ON MY NERVES, and I can't help being a bit of a renegade. It's just my persona, and what they do doesn't really help.

TEACHERS, and NO ONE ELSE IN THE WORLD, has the right to tell someone off for doing something when they do it too. That's like a judge saying to a criminal 'you really shouldn't have murdered him', then the judge goes out on a murder spree.

Can no-one see the irony in it?

Yesterday I was really pissed off at this guy, which we can only call MW for privacy reasons on the internet.

Now, what he said to me yesterday was no big deal.

But the fact that that and worse has been going on ever since he came and polluted our school with his presence just drove me over the line.

I had a bad day, yesterday. I had to spend all lunch and recess clearing out my tray, which is more accurately described as a museum or a garbage tip, it was hot, I had a headache, and it was a bad time of the month, if you get my gist. I was seriously pissed off, and I just cracked.

And what does the teacher do? Make it all a joke. The whole class ended up laughing, and I couldn't say anything.

Some teacher.

I get teased. A lot. Even the TEACHERS tease me.

There's this guy that sits next to me who always puts his elbow on my desk (in primary, we have to share one desk). It got to the point I was slapping and punching his elbow every six seconds, and what does the teacher say? That I LOVE him. Ew. He thinks it's so cool to go around with sunblock not smeared on properly on his cheeks. No wonder he hasn't got a girlfriend.

The orchestra conductor was telling me off for coming late for ensemble practice (as the concert master, you should be a bit more prompt, etc) and the music teacher comes in. What does she say? 'She's too busy dreaming about BSC'.



But back to MW. Why is he so annoying?

We have four new kids in my class this year: BSC, MW and two girls.

BSC is awesome. He's crazy, conceited, stuck-up, but loveable and charismatic to pieces and he's one of my closest friends, and one of the only guys that are really there for me. We're not going out or anything - that's gross, and anyways, he's too busy chasing other girls (namely BETHANY) - but we're friends and he treats me like a boy and I treat him like a girl.

One of the girls is really nice - she's pretty and smart and popular without being a bitch. We're not close close but we're friends, pretty much.

The other girl is an IDIOT. She rambles on and on about all the boys who liked her in her old school, and her old school this and her old school that, but I don't think she gets the message - no one CARES.

But MW. MW!!! He goes out of his way to annoy people, starts rumours, thinks it's so effing cool to be an effing smartass, and GRRRRRRR, I can't say any more without murdering the keyboard.

This isn't just some whiny rant by some pathetic schoolkid. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS. THIS IS MY LIFE.

I don't want any sympathy. I don't want people saying 'Poor you, I feel really sorry for you' or stuff like that. I just want people to UNDERSTAND.

I know some people are a lot worse off than me. But that's due to big issues, like climate change or economy crisis or governments gone crook.

My problems are easily solved, but I need help with that.

I just want people to see I'm a normal kid who deserves to have a normal life.

Why can't anyone see that? Why am I always the outsider, the weirdo?