And if home really is where the heart is...

...and my heart is in my body, doesn't that mean that "home" is somewhere inside me?

And wouldn't that be just great, because I don't think I'll ever be able to settle down somewhere with someone. I don't want the white picket fence (or the terrace house and a husband with a steady paycheck). I don't want someone whose only dream is to be a "good husband" and a "good father".

I dread doing the whole shebang, you know, getting married, buying that house, living in that house until we're old and grey and so run down that all we can do is sit in front of the TV, and probably not even care what's on because we'll be dozing off every five minutes. Phew, that was a long sentence.

I know these fears are premature...but maybe they have a purpose. They help with decision making. Every time I am at a junction and I feel scared, I remind myself that hesitation and indecision is worse than making the wrong choice.

There's this really great excerpt that I read in one of Raymond E. Feist's books but I can't remember verbatim what it says. But the gist of it was that sometimes, we just have to keep moving. We choose which way to go and we move and take whatever comes. Because sometimes, standing still is worse.

I'm terrified of the sedentary life. Of never going anywhere. Of being perfectly satisfied.

Well, I am today anyway. Ask me tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow I'll want the white picket fence.

Choosing Adam

I wrote this story last year. There were things that were going on in my life. Been thinking about those things again so I wrote this:

“Why are you here?” Adam asked.

“What do you mean?” she said. She propped herself up on an elbow and mussed at her hair with her other hand. She shook out her locks then she lay back down on the bed and stretched.

“Stop that,” he said. She stopped in the middle of her stretch. Her arms were above her head and her chest stuck out. Her neck was laid bare. Her eyes flicked towards him. He made a sound and then he kissed her neck. His fingers found their place in her hair. He forgot what he had been trying to say.

Later, in the darkness of night, after they had finally gotten out of bed, after they had done the things that were required of the socially sane, after the day had passed, they lay in bed thinking. The air was heavy with the sound of things unsaid. She lay facing the window.

Adam rested his eyes on the back of her neck and finally asked again, “Why are you here?”

She kept silent and watched the clouds move across the sky. They covered the last of the twinkling stars until the only brightness left in the night was the full moon and the dim light of the flickering street lamps. “Because I love you,” she finally said, wondering if it was too soon to be saying it, wondering if she should even be saying it at all.

“And two years ago? Didn’t you love me then?” He pulled her around to face him.

“Things were different then,” she said. “I was scared.”

“I was scared too. Heck, I'm still scared,” he said. “How do I know you won’t get scared again and decide to go back to him?”

She didn’t have the best track record when it came to staying with Adam. She had known both Sean and Adam almost all of her life. And when the time to choose had come, she had chosen Sean because he was “better”. They had told her that he was the better choice. That choosing him meant that she would have a better life. They hadn’t meant to lie…but what they had said had been a lie anyway.

So while she stayed with Sean and did all the things that a good girlfriend was expected to do, she remained close to Adam. She had shared more of herself with Adam than with anyone else. But every time she had had to make a choice, she had gone back to Sean. Because Sean was stable. Sean was safe.

“And why now?” he continued. “Why now?”

She wondered if she should tell him the truth. She looked into his eyes and realized that he deserved at least that much. “Sean left,” she said. “He said that he couldn’t compete with you anymore.”

Adam laughed. It was the laugh he saved for corrupt politicians and philanthropic celebrities. He ran his fingers through his hair. Then he turned to her and said incredulously, “You finally decided to stay with me because he left?”

The Twilight Post

I first heard about Twilight on /film. The two thoughts running through my head (that I remember the clearest) were:
1. Oh, goodie. It's about vampires.
2. Oh, it's based on that book with the apple on the cover.

And there was also a thought that went along the lines of, "Oh, that girl is hot."

So the next time I went to Borders, I went to look at the book. About one chapter later, I put the book back on the shelf. Then I went home to read a book about "real" vampires--Dracula.

When Twilight (the movie) came out, I didn't see it. But somewhere around that time, Sarah started reading the book and she said to me, "Jean, Bella reminds me of you."

So the next time I went to the bookstore, I gave the book another try. Another chapter in, I put it back onto the shelf and went home to read Interview with the Vampire.

Then I got home (from Melbourne) and I managed to get my hands on the entire series. (I get most of my books this way now.) Somehow I got over my queasiness (omg...took me at least five tries to spell that word) and actually finished the first book. And I was hooked.

I had to endure several days of being called a "sell out" by Aaron and I read the rest of the series in secret. I both loved and hated it. If asked, I can go on about all the reasons that I hate it. But I'm not sure at all why I love it.

Maybe it's because it's about a girl who's trying to find her place in the world. Maybe I like it because Bella is so sure that she's in love with Edward. Even when it seems easier to choose Jacob, even when Edward turns into this Byronic hero.

No and no. I can't really find a good reason as to why I like it. And maybe stories really are like candy--they don't have to have a point.

But I will say this:

I'm not in love with Edward. I do not want a guy like him. He is a paragon of chivalry and Bella has no choice but to remain the damsel in distress. People highlight Edward's loyalty and undying devotion to Bella but they forget that the thing that makes him so loyal is the same thing that makes him dangerous. He could kill her at any moment.

And he does, in a way. The Bella before Edward was a scholar. She read books. She was strong on her own, even without friends. What the hell happened?! How on earth did her life become so tangled up in Edward's?!

Maybe this is why I like it. It's a cautionary tale.

It has also seriously made me reconsider my taste in books. Wuthering Heights? I don't like it so much anymore. Sure it's passionate and scandalous...but the characters are shite. I actually hated Heathcliff from the start and right now, I'm also realizing what a vapid creature Catherine was.

Never liked Romeo...or Juliet. Thought their love was tragic but totally unnecessary.

I still like Pride and Prejudice. I can't help it. It's too funny...and Lizzie reminds me of me. And Jane reminds me of Kris.

But I must say that I really loved the scenes of the wolves running through the woods in New Moon (the movie). It made me want to run barefooted and feel the wind running through my hair. It made me want to learn parkour (ie. free-running). *sigh* I just have this thing for wolves.

This is the reason I watch the movies:

I ♥ Kristen Stewart.

So while waiting for the paint to dry...

...(literally), I am looking at stuff online. Lately, I've been fiddling about with some blogger layout things. If you're using Mozilla, you'll see that I've changed my favicon.

I'm still trying to figure out how to change it on all other browsers as well. Anyway, I followed this really simple tutorial on Yummy Lolly. I changed Jared's as well. =D

I also found a really good resource guide at Nymphont. I'm going to start making a whole new layout of my own. I would like to start from scratch...or from a very basic template (it will probably Minima). I just want to see what making a template is like.

And I read about Empire's 20th anniversary photo spread on /film so I went to check out the entire gallery. They had 27 stars recreate their roles in movies from the last two decades. I liked these three the best.

The Silence of the Lambs

300

And my favorite one: American Psycho

I watched the movie. And then I read the book by Bret Easton Ellis. The book really managed to recreate the mind of a crazy, obsessive, compulsive man. It was very strange.

Okay, the paint is dry. Now to paint the next layer!

Uncommitted

I decided to write instead of trolling for more blog layouts. I am now working on Teacher Teacher. It's a short story that's going to be in both Cradle to Grave and my other collection. I think I will call that one "The Color of Blood".

But the point is that there are too many things to do and not nearly enough time to do all of them. I'll save the search for new layouts for another time.

The thing is, every time I change my layout, I tell myself, "This is it. I love this layout. I won't change it for at least a year." But it doesn't last. The very next day, I troll the world wide web for more layouts. I tell myself that I'm just keeping an eye open...that there might be a more interesting layout. I'm just looking.

Ah, okay. I've settled for changing my background. Teehee...

I shy away from things that seem to be permanent. I painted my bookshelf at the end of the year 2007 and I used paint that comes off when scrubbed with water. I scrubbed half of it off today because I decided that I needed a change. The person who painted that Rene Descartes quote "I think, therefore I am" doesn't really believe in that anymore. The person I am now believes "I am, I am, I am".

At this point, I have already changed my blog background several times. And none of them look right.

And finally, I've changed it back to the background that I had before. For a person who's so adamant on change, I can also be very set on certain things. Who's to say that's not allowed, right? I mean...there's no hard and fast rule, is there?

PS. I promised myself that I would not talk/write/blog about Twilight but I must! And I will...if I am still in the mood for it tomorrow.

PPS. My spelling is so bad. I rely almost completely on the spell check in Word. The spelling bee I won when I was five? Nothing to do with spelling. That was pure intelligence. LOL!

I'd tell anecdotes about my children...

...that everyone else will find rather boring. Yes, that's the kind of mother I would be. I think.

I finally got round to plugging my camera into my laptop and found a bunch of pictures that I took several months ago. Jacob was a lot smaller then. He's so cute.

I miss him as a baby. (OMG...my aunt says this to me and my brothers all the time.)

I laugh at funerals.

I find the solemnity oppressing. I never feel like crying at funerals. I hardly cry actually.

But some things make me tear. Things like evolution and the selfish gene. Movies like The Prestige and The Dark Knight. The concept of DNA containing the history of the world. Fossils. Smooth rocks. Beautiful bodies (gobble gobble chew chew. munch munch!). Legends. Re-tellings of legends.

And more...and this. This video made me tear.

"And I'm not her"

Read a piece of writing on Kris' blog today. The first part goes:

She's a delicate rose
Found in flowery prose
And I'm not her

And I get it. I've never been a delicate rose.

When I was younger, I used to dream of high adventure. I pretended to be Peter Pan and Tom Sawyer. I watched Scaramouche about five times and enjoyed each time thoroughly. (I've just bought the book and another book by Sabatini and I think I am going to thoroughly enjoy those too.) My brothers and I made guns out of our model building toys. Our stuffed toys were used for war games.

But sometimes, I feel like I have to be a damsel in distress. The truth is that sometimes I want Someone. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't. And sometimes, I feel like I have to be a damsel in distress so that he can be Prince Charming.

And when I have these kinds of feelings, I listen to songs like Ne-Yo's Miss Independent and Tata Young's Cinderella. I know, so lame. But sometimes the music I listen to can really affect my feelings.

But lately I've been wondering if maybe we've been interpreting these princess fairy tales wrongly. Maybe those princesses weren't as passive as we think they were.

Okay, Sleeping Beauty was probably very passive (I mean, she was asleep which is one step of passive away from dead) but take Cinderella for example. She could have chosen to stay in the cellar when her fairy godmother showed up. But she didn't. She put on a magical ball gown and went to a ball, where she was noticed by the prince.

Hmmm...I can't figure out ways to re-interpret those other fairy tales. Snow White was asleep when the prince came. She had to be rescued.

Rapunzel was locked up in her tower. She had to be rescued.

The Little Mermaid is a cautionary tale reminding girls that it is not okay to be aggressive. If you fall in love with a man, you must wait for him to notice you. If you pursue him, you will end up killing yourself while he marries a real princess.

I want to be a princess. I do. There's this part of me that wants it. Badly. I also want to be a goddess, a witch, a siren, a wolf, a lost girl, a pirate, a treasure hunter and more. And the whole of me wonders why I can't be all of these at once.

Maybe fairy tales are just stories that are meant purely for entertainment. Maybe I'm just reading too much into these tales. Maybe they don't have morals...or hidden lessons.

After all, they're only stories. Aren't they?

Never again...

I say those words in my head a lot.

In 2006, I said:
Never again will I undertake a journalistic endeavor.

In 2007, I took a journalism elective at uni.

Sometime in 2005, I said:
Never again will I eat meat.

I ate meat that very night.

There is more. Oh yes, there is more. The people around me don't let me forget. "This is one of your I-want-to-be-vegetarian things right?" they say.

It may be.

It may not be.

When I say it, I truly mean it at the time that I am saying it. And I am saying it now, never again will I force myself to write 50000 words in under twenty days.

The end product is disgusting. I can't believe I wrote such rubbish.

I'll stick to short stories. Thankyouverymuch.

For nothing is impossible.

Kris gave me a pencil last year. It's a fat wooden one that writes multi-colors. Today, I used that pencil to sign my first piece of writing that I sold. =D

I think I am going to take up copper tooling again.

Right after I:
...finish writing my novel. Complete rubbish!
...finish writing the stories for Cradle to Grave.
...finish writing the stories for my secret project, which was supposed to be completed in August but is still mostly undone.
...come back from China.
...come back from HK (if I'm going).

On the pencil that Kris gave me, the words "For nothing is impossible with God" are written. That's from Luke 1:37, if anyone is wondering. Believe it or not, I lost my Bible.

Change

I am now using Auburn by Kevin & Amanda as my post title font. It's so nice. I think this is going to turn into a habit. Changing fonts, that is. I just realized that I've never kept the same blog layout for more than a year since I started blogging in 2004. In fact, I've changed my layout many, many times (at least five times in this year alone).

I like change.

"You haven't changed at all" is the worst insult that anyone can give. "You haven't changed at all" means that you've stayed the same. You haven't grown or gotten wiser or stronger or smarter. You've stayed stagnant. While the world has been turning, you have stayed stagnant.

So yeah, I like change.

Juvenilia

I was going to burn my writing. It turns out that while I got rid of quite a lot of it (they are in a tin on my front porch, half-burned and doused with perfume and water), I still have some left. This is probably due to my habit of scribbling things down everywhere. I can't even collect my writings properly to burn them.

Anyway, I wrote this poem years ago. I was going through an environmental phase. I didn't eat shark fin soup and I picked up icky rubbish from the ground. I recycled and tried to reuse as many of my things as I could. This was in high school, I think. I thought the poem was quite interesting.

To her children, Earth gave life.
To Man, she added greed and strife.
Now she weeps great tears of acid.
Unaware, her children still stay placid.
Favored Man betrayed his Mother,
Exploited, destroyed and used his Brothers.
For that reason Earth regrets
Giving Man his intellect.
"Use it well," the Mother said.
"Choose your friends, use your head."
But Man, the stubborn brat,
the sadist liked to see things dead.
Didn't care as long as he
could be all that he wanted to be.
So Earth will breathe her final breath
Because her Son befriended Death.

I realize now the extent of my social retarded-ness. I was really antisocial. I was telling Kris the other day that I am more socially sane now. Or at least, I am now able to pretend to be socially sane.

And don't you think it's strange...

...that the phrase 'politically correct' exists? I use that phrase a lot. I don't even know what it really means. It's like saying something is 'postmodern'. What does being postmodern entail? I don't really know either.

I've been trying to have opinions on things...strong opinions on things. I am trying to be less fluid because the thing with me is that, even if I don't agree with a person, I can see where they are coming from. I have been trying not to see because seriously, you have to pick a side. Don't you?

By 'you', I mean myself.

In Perfume, Grenouille ran away from smells. He lived alone in the wilderness and there only smelled rocks and trees and water and the animals in the rocks and the trees and the water. Sometimes, I would like to get away from words.