Very Short Semi- Hiatus

I will be taking a very short semi-hiatus for the next two, three weeks.

I am doing so because:

1. Life has caught up with me. Heavy school work -> less time to read and review.
However, it is "semi" because I might still ocassionally make a post.

2. I am working on Version 2.0 of this site. I am planning to upload my Internet novel: The Pursuit of Happiness onto this Blog. This means I must adjust some of the layout. I'm planning to have another two sections that can be accessed from the splash page. Therefore, I will have a section for Reviews, one section for the story, and one "personal" section. However, that is to be determined later.

On another note, I will still upload any writing I enjoy and review very inspirational books/mangas.

Second Part

Someone asked me whether or not I knew about the second part of a manhwa.

Which manhwa??

I know that there are side stories to some of the manhwa I've talked about, such as Cat Street.

Comments on the Prince of Tides

I'm currently reading The Prince of Tides by Pat Conroy and hating it. Then again, I've only read the first 100 pages detailing endless descriptions of how depressing his family is. I truly don't see the point of using a page to document the fact that a woman is sitting silently in a mental hospital and what that possibly might mean.

"My sister did not move. Her spirit had been subtracted out of her flesh. There was a mineral stillness to her repose, an immaculate divinity to the black ensemble of her catatonia... There is integrity in the vow of silence and something sacred in the renounciation of movement. It is the quietest human drama of the soul undone, the solemn dress rehearsal for death itself. I had not seen my sister not move before...blah blah blah... And, she had added, she could not hurt herself when she was not moving"... and only a page more of the description of the fact that his sister was silent and not moving.

I hate pointless reiterations, especially in the type of language he uses.

Why?

1) Is he showing off the fact he can string together stuff like "an immaculate divinity to the black ensemble of the catatonia"? Not only is this a gross exaggeration of the simple point he wanted to convey in the first place, it becomes meaningless junk after the 2nd page of this stuff.

2) Why does he need to even talk about this pointless scene for a whole page? He could have easily said:

"She was huddled into the corner of the white-washed walls of the hospital. Silent and unmoving, her blank expression stirred in my mind the impression of the dead."... or something to that effect.

3) Though his flowery language is nice to read once in a while, it detracts from the possible influence it could have had, had it been used sparingly and at a point that deserved such a description.

In addition, I especially hate the unrealistic nature of his characters. Take this for example:

Tom (the main character) has just been informed by his wife that she is cheating on him.

This is his reply: "May I please know who it is?"

And this is coming from a person who's self-admittedly cynical and tremendously contemptuous of others due to the fact that his sister is a suicidal maniac and his father is in jail for murder. Not only is he often disrespectful to others, his ego is impossible to deal with. Soaked in self-pity, he believes that his miserable life deserves much more attention than what others are giving him.

This is his thought process (I made it up) --> "Oh my god! Our family was so dysfunctional that my sister had to move to New York, the most detestable city in the world! You can just see how bad my family was to push her to such a drastic action!"

I can't handle Conroy's meaningless babble anymore. The only interesting parts are when he's (Tom) recounting the story of his childhood to a psychiatrist and using a lot less adjectives. Had the characters been alive and real, I'd fully understand why his sister would go mad in this family - the narrator is simply too much to listen to.

- Keep in mind, however, I've only read 100 of the 650 pages, and he hasn't even begin explaining why his whole family is in this outrageously depressive and homicidal mood.

A Card!

I recently received this. Thanks!

A Middle School Project

I was on Freewebs today and suddenly remembered old websites I had on there (I made them during my website craze in middle school). I visited all of them and found only one that remains. I guess perhaps it's because it's the only one I've updated after graduating from middle school - for a grade nine math class, to be sure.

The site is about stock markets, and if you have the time, check it out.

www.freewebs.com/stock_market

My other sites ranged from an indepth analysis about books like the Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz to the world economy. I wish those weren't deleted.

Malaysia!

Earlier this year, I won a trip to Malaysia (cool, huh?) and went away with a couple of other students for eleven days. I have to say that it was an experience of a lifetime.

My friend (one of the students who went on the trip) said this about it: (my comments are in blue)

Once the thrilled students stepped foot on Malaysian soil, they were immediately greeted by the warm 30 degree weather, a well earned break from the frigid subzero climate of Canada at the time. They were able to experience an incomprehensible spectrum of experiences from traditional to modern. For a few days, the participants found themselves navigating the labyrinth of bustling streets of the capital city Kuala Lumpur. This city has more bombardier rapid transit trains than Toronto, some which are even driverless. Here the students experienced places ranging from historical sites to houses of worship of several religions.

[We had to transfer at Taipei, and you could just feel the humidity and warmth of the air. Coolest thing about their transit is the section that's in the air.]

One evening, students were aggressively bargaining with street vendors in Petaling Street, a famed market in the city’s Chinatown. Another evening they were exploring the several floors full of brand named stores ranging from Gucci to Adidas at the Suria KLCC, a grand shopping complex at the foot of the majestic Patronus Twin Towers lit up in full glory beneath the night skies.

[I bought a shirt at Petaling St. for 20 ringgits, and then found the same shirt at the KLCC for a couple hundred.]

The students braved some 272 steps to reach the Batu Caves on the outskirts of the city. These caves are a Hindu pilgrimage site with ornate carvings and a population of friendly local monkeys who enjoy munching on food thrown by visitors.

[I fed a monkey an orange! I'm not so sure now that it was so wise - considering it was a wild monkey and it was hanging off my arm. But still very cool!

There's my monkey.]

The Canadian students also had the opportunity to tour a local Malaysian school and learn about local students of their age.

[That's a small sentence to sum up a big experience. They put on special performances and had special food prepared for us at the school. Their cooking classes are like the ones you read about in mangas - where each student has a little desk and has the opportunity to make stuff.]

Since the experience was government funded, students enjoyed a private bus as well as enthusiastic tour guides. The lavish and colourful bus was decorated with intricate patterns and glossy curtains. Thanks to this bus, the students were able to get out of the big city and head elsewhere. One morning students found themselves eating a decorative seafood lunch at the Putrajaya Seafood Restaurant, which is essentially a hut floating alongside a lakefront with dazzling views of the house of the Prime Minister, the 116 metre minaret of the Putra Mosque, and other architectural marvels within the administrative capital of Putrajaya. That very evening they devoured dinner sitting down on the floor and using nothing but their right hands to go through large portions of rice, vegetables, and meat plated on banana leaves and all grown in their very own backyards. They were now at the Kampung Dorani Homestay, a traditional Kampung village that offers foreign visitors a taste of traditional life.

[Yeah - the bus was pretty awesome. But on the topic of food - we were served really well. The restaurant he's describing there floats on a lake and has the most amazing view ever.

This (the pic) is what we could see.

The Homestay is my fav. part of the whole trip - as you will see later.]

At the homestay, the students experienced the true Malaysia. There were vibrant green rice paddies as far as the eye could see dotted with Kampungs, traditional colourful wooden Malaysian homes on stilts. In pairs, the students spent two nights with foster families, immersed in their gracious hospitality and the Malay language. Some of the families spoke little English. Students also experienced several traditional activities including eel fishing in the rice paddies, batik painting, and bahulu “kite” making. They also went to a colourful traditional Malaysian wedding, local food processing industries, and even on a river cruise to watch a rare sight of thousands of synchronized flashing fireflies.

[This is the only line that most of us learned on the two hour trip to the countryside. “Di Mana Saya Pergi Tandas?” The line literally translates to “Where I go washroom?” The picture below was taken by another friend on one of the mornings.

The homestay experience took my breath away. We split off into pairs and had our own "family". My partner and I ended up with a family that lived in the cutest house ever! They had a coconut tree in the front of their driveway and their house was painted in yellows, oranges, greens and blues. Our room was richly decorated (with a wedding-style bed - hahahaha) and had windows that overlooked the red flower bushes.

I wrote this in my "journal":

The sweet aftertaste of the cold coconut juice we were greeted with lingered until we’d split up into pairs and left with the “Father” we were introduced to. Sitting on what would be Canada’s driver’s side of the car and driving on the other side of the road was a new experience for me. Our car speeded past stocked mango stands as we weaved through the small, close-knit community. The house we were brought to seemed to come right out of a storybook. The driveway was lined with bright green bushes overgrown with red flowers. A coconut tree stood high beside the house, weighed down by the clusters of coconuts that reached for the ground. The colour of the house was a bright yellow orange, highlighted by beautiful, flat paneled shutters. Looking out from the second story window into the endless blue sky and mango grooves, Malaysia never seemed more real.

It's impossible to express everything that happened there, but I'll describe what I believe were the two coolest things.

Kite making was absolutely amazing. It wasn't too difficult, and I was the first person to go out and fly my kite. The sky was endlessly blue - and the wind was just perfect. All the coconut trees were swaying a bit on the side of the road, and my kite just flew up into the air.

There were a few times when it got caught on some weird eddies and started twisting, but soon, it was up as high as it could go.

I can't describe that feeling - simply standing near a paddie field and watching a kite fly on forever.

(I had to magnify my camera like 12 times to take this picture. It flew up really high.)

The other experience was the rain. It rained a couple of times in the short time we were there. But it wasn't the wet and disgusting kind you get in the city. It was seeing nature in nature. I remember the couple of us kicking around a coconut (as a soccer ball) after a whole day of activities (such as eel-fishing), and just running around the area created by the house stilts. Next thing we knew - the sky had turned dark blue and large splatters of rain were dropping from the sky. Within moments, it just started pouring.

A section from my "journal" again:

The sun that’d bathed the world in such bright light hid its face behind the clouds. Within moments, buckets of rain poured down in torrents, cutting us away from the rest of the world, in a place where life could be simple and happy. Where stress could find no foothold in the confines of such tranquility. Where laughter trickled alongside the water.

And it was true. I had no worries, no unpleasant thoughts, and felt a certain kind of peacefulness that I haven't encountered since.

Though this is an old image of a more traditional house than the homestay headquarters (where everyone goes to for the activities), just imagine standing underneath the house and feeling the rain blow in. It's unforgettable.

And rainbows, amazingly, aren't a rare sight. You can see one almost after every rainfall. ]

~

Another day, the students found themselves within the historical city of Melaka along the Straits of Malacca, once a prominent Portuguese seaport for the great spice trades. Highlights from this town include its authentic cuisine influenced by a variety of cultures. Students enjoyed a Portuguese influenced dinner and a Nyonya lunch, which is a complex style of cuisine utilizing a variety of spices and is influenced by local migrants from China and India throughout the past few centuries who married into Malaysian families. One night, the students cruised around town in trishaws, three-wheeled cycles topped with colourful sheaths of a variety of artificial flowers and designs. These vehicles dazzled as they traversed the roads flashing with flashing bright lights ranging from green to orange while blasting out their loud radios. They squeezed through every street corner from the bright red lanterns and Chinese flavour of the Jhonker Street markets, to the colonial styled churches and elegant gardens of the Dutch square, and even down the pristine riverfront.

[Trishaw experience!

That's what a trishaw looks like.

We also ate at a very modern seafood restaurant where there was a live performer. The couple of us sang rowdy English songs at the "stage".... and took secret pictures of a goodlooking bartender.]

After nine days of the jam-packed Malaysian experience, the Canadian students headed on the nearly 30-hour journey home. Each one carried with them at least 300 Malaysian Ringgits ($100 Canadian) worth of Malaysian crafts, imitation brand-named clothing, souvenir key chains, and tea back to the land of hockey, Tim Horton’s and the CN Tower, which to the students was now dwarf in comparison to the Petronas Towers. It was a sad wave goodbye to the smiles and hospitality of the great Asian nation. This unbelievable experience has opened the world and all it has to offer to the students. Malaysia is a must-see for everyone!

[He didn't mention our night in Kuala Lumpur - when we went into the megamall at the bottom of the Petronas Towers and then hanged around the park that surrounded the city centre. KL is super green. They've got trees everywhere. When we were swimming on the outdoor ninth-floor swimming pool, they had trees dotting the border of the pool and tennis court.]

I had some serious issues with going back. I kind of didn't want to.

I'm def. going back to visit someday.

- Annie

Ps. And the 30 hour plane ride wasn't that bad. I watched at least three newly released movies and played tons of video games. Asian airlines are pretty cool.

Pps. One of my hotel rooms (We always had a good view):

Some More Rambling

First of all, before I forget, here are some tips for avid readers who just don't have the time to read anymore:

• Simply don't start reading a good book the night you're supposed to be studying for a test.
• If it's bad the first fifty pages, it's probably bad all the way through. There's no point of wasting your time and going through a bad experience of your own volition just because you think it might get better.
• Read something that you won't get hooked on if you're stressed and need a book to relax.
• Download or borrow an audio version and listen to the book when you're doing the dishes or riding the bus.
• Even better, convert an Ebook into Ipod notes using the countless convertors on the Internet and read it anywhere, anytime (you can listen to music at the same time, too!)
• Focus on the things you have to do, and once you're done them, go to bed early. Then start reading.
• Finish everything you have to do before reading. Don't work on something, read a novel for thirty minutes and then go back to work. Reading feels better in long stretches.

I haven't had a chance to read a good novel in so long that I've forgotten what they're like. I can't wait till next year (after university applications). Right now there's grades, scholarships, exams and universities to worry about. Grade twelve is seriously too taxing.

Actually, the best tip for avid readers is to just drop everything and read. How else are you supposed to find time? It's impossible!

The Secret Behind J is looking for J

~J is looking for J~

...

Most people who follow this blog have realized the origin of J is looking for J - it's an inside joke from the manga 100% Perfect Girl. However, they would have also realized that I never truly explained it, and it's about time that I did. So here's a little insight:

Some people are consciously looking for an individual who understands us on a really deep level - perhaps someone who shows and teaches us new things, things that even we don't know about ourselves. Some people are simply searching for another soul to be with - to either dispel the loneliness of our single, solitary voices or to provide support, warmth and company.

Other people are unaware of this inherent, all-encompassing search, though they are still an active participant in this process. A few individuals are lucky enough to have already found someone who fulfills and inspires them to achieve what would have been the impossible.

In our search, we look at the people around us, but we always encounter the same problem - that the person we're searching for isn't there. There's nobody even half-decent, nevermind anyone we can consider our "soulmate". So what do we do? We wait. We wait for that someone to walk down the road, bump into us and hopefully find us just as perfect as we find them.

But if we thought this through rationally, we'd be stumped by the first question. Can fate bring us our destiny so easily? Shouldn't we be out there, actively looking for something to fill that inexplicable hole within us?

And this is where J is looking for J comes in. I don't want to be just waiting. I want to be searching; looking for it. Js are synonymous letters. I can replace the first J with anything - my name, your name, a number, a picture, or an expression of myself. And the other is like the first J - a simple parallelism that would make this sentence complete. It's weird to think that the name of a simple blog can be considered in such a way, but it's a reminder for me to always keep my eyes open. I don't want life to pass me by while I'm half-stuck in dreamland.

Then there are people who read this and think - how can we define fate or destiny or luck or karma or soul - searching? Isn't life just a big coincidence? There are no coherent thoughts; no shackles we can possibly clasp onto intangible substances.

Well, let me ask you: Wouldn't this world - our lives be so much more interesting if we thought otherwise? That someday, our search will be fruitful? That in our search for someone else, for a definition, for a purpose, we might be able to discover something more about ourselves and humanity?

I believe, without a doubt, that life would be much more interesting.

- Annie

I'm Still Alive

I haven't updated in a couple of days... thought I'd drop by and say hi again.

There have been a couple of things I've been doing with my life: clubs, school work, reading.

I'm pretty involved in school, so it's the second week of school and I feel as if I'm going to get a brain hemorrhage already. I've had one test with two more planned for this week. What does this mean? Three tests in the second week of school. I went to a Supercouncil meeting yesterday and got home at 9:30pm (without dinner). Then I had to make budget forms for all the clubs and blah blah blah....

But no, I just couldn't go to sleep without my daily dose of good fiction - so I stayed up until 1:30am to finish Solangel's book - Conversations Between Us. Even though I felt emotionally impaired and unable to do anything without thinking about the story, I woke up at 5:30am this morning so that I could be at school by 7:00 to help with a teacher breakfast.

I am completely booked this whole week, this month and this year. According to my agenda, the next stress-free period I will have will sometime in February. Wait - I already have a project due that month so scratch that, maybe next summer.

So you get my schedule. I guess it partly justifies my inability to tend to this site as often as I'd like. Of course I will make time for it, but it won't be everyday like in August.

I wanted to post a short story I wrote on here, but every time I tried to copy and paste something from word, my window shut down. This is the third time I'm writing this post. I am annoyed beyond words.

I shall post my story tomorrow then, if I'm up to it.

Letters to Myself

Have you ever felt alone... like really, really alone?

Like the whole world doesn't really understand you or the problems you face?

It's often difficult to find someone you trust and spill everything, which is what you want to do in this circumstance, but there's just nobody out there.

When you're sad, or happy or simply content, and at the same time you feel lonely, write a letter to yourself.

I was reading an article from Marie Clare and the article gave me this idea.

Pretend you're old - maybe in your fourties and assuming the position of yourself in that specific age, write a letter to who you are now. Then you'll feel like the whole world is totally alright.

My imaginary 42 year old self has two kids, a good job and a caring husband. I'm a successful business woman who is very happy with her life. Looking back, what would I say to my teenage self? I'd tell her to keep on studying, and always be tenacious in chasing after her dreams. I'd tell her to continually work on her novel, and forget everyone who tells her that she can't do it or that marks are everything.

I'd tell her that one bad hair day isn't something to fuss over, nor is one bad test score. I'd tell her to look after her family and friends, as those people are what matters the most at the end of the day. I'd tell her to enjoy life, and that people only have one youth. Stop and smell the roses! Is what I'd say to her.

And I'd tell her all of this in a letter. And maybe, if my teenage self feels indulgent enough, she'd reply to me with a letter asking for advice, or simply sharing her troubles and successes with me.

Because then, neither of us would ever feel lonely again.

- Annie

Six Words

Can you tell a short story in six words?

I recently read a Times article that reminded me of an English class last year. Our teacher asked us to write a short story using six words. Why six? Because Ernest Hemingway once wrote this sentence:

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

After reading it, I'd say most people's initial confusion would eventually give way to profound understanding (or supposed profound understanding, as the name 'Hemingway' insitutes a direct correlation between awed admiration and the need to associate oneself with such ingenuity, even when personal opinion might differ).

Either way, this short story is a great representation of his literary creativity. It provokes boundless questions from readers - why is someone selling baby shoes, especially ones that haven't been worn?

Could it be that a baby had passed away? Perhaps a woman had miscarried?

And along it, a sense of nostalgia and insight. Six words, and a world of feelings.

I guess I should contribute personally to this discussion by providing my own six words. I would, but I really haven't been able to come up with something worth posting. When you try it yourself, you'll realize how difficult it is to tell a whole story in such a short number of words.

However, maybe I can take a stab at 8 words:

In winter dreams, down summer lanes, sayonara blue.

Can you guess what I'm trying to say?

- Annie

Published Again!

Hehehe.

I'm happy to say my essay regarding the decline in voter turnout, which I submitted to Elder and Leemaur Publishing, was among the top 3% of over 5000 essays submitted. It was a competition open to high school and university students in the whole of North America.

What does this mean? I'm getting published for the second time! :D

It's going to be in a book called Challenge the Experts, and it will be viewed by an individual panel of judges in late September to determine whether or not I deserve to receive the possible $1000 scholarship.

I'll post the essay on here sometime after it gets published. It's called Couch Potato Conglomerates.

Hehehe.

Complete

My goodness.

The deadline I gave myself was Friday. Wait - today is friday.

Well, it feels like I finished early.

Exactly 337 pages. Of my novel. Completed. From prologue to epilogue. Three years.

Completed.

Finally.

Hair!

Though I've dedicated this blog to books, manga, etc, I don't believe that my personal life is too out of the ball park. Sure, my life isn't as exciting or memorable as the stories in all the mangas and novels, but it does get a little out of hand sometimes.

So, I'm going to tell a little story - about my hair.

My hair is very thick, as thickness goes. I cut it last year, and it grows quite slowly, so I'm pretty uptight about not cutting it until I have another one of those fantasies in which I am riding on the back of a speeding motorcycle and my short, sexy hair is fluttering in the wind.

Right now, it's probably four or five inches past my shoulder, and I'm ok with it. But at one point less than a month ago, I was definitely not ok with it.

I'd just washed my hair - perhaps half an hour ago, and it was pretty much dry. I was one of those people who doesn't brush their hair until they remember to brush it (as opposed to out of habit), and so when I stepped into the washroom to comb it through, I intended to be quick about it.

I had one of those heavy-duty (if that even applies to brushes), curling brushes. The big, round ones - with tiny spikes.

---

I was at the left side of my head when the brush got stuck. I'm not going to go into detail regarding how I got it stuck, because I'm not so sure myself, but I probably didn't comb it through before lifting it out and up to repeat the procedure.

So the brush got stuck - really close to my head. At first I was completely calm and professional (and by that I mean I wasn't screaming or anything). I tried untangling it - I really did. I simply got myself in a bigger mess. There was no one I could go to, for I lived alone at the time.

Ten minutes later, I was still by myself, stalking the bathroom, and trying the yank the thing out of my hair. You can totally see how that would go downhill, as opposed to actually being somewhat productive. It hurt too. If I took my hand away, the brush stayed there. It looked like a humongous lump on the side of my head - while pulling all my hair out.

At that time, I named it "the monster", because it was eating up my energy, my patience, my intelligence (as I thought about all the possible ways of dealing with this monstrosity)... and my hair.

Next step - I tried washing it. Goodness gracious, let's not go down that road. I stood right outside the bath tub, put only my head in, and turned on the showerhead. I'm cringing as I write, because that was such a wrong move. My hair was now wet. And tangled. Overall, in worse shape than before.

I brought out the hair dryer and started blowing.

I admit, I'd changed a couple of levels from being "calm" into "panicky". Not only did the whole bathroom floor get soaked with water, I had a consistent flow of healthy images in which my hairdryer (plugged into the wall right beside me) starts fizzing up and electrocutes me.

But I survive that part. Half an hour later, my arm very tired from holding the thing up, I'd tried nearly everything except the one thing I didn't want to do. And so, I walked around the house, looking for other inspirational ideas to fight "the monster".

During my psychoanalysis, I took notice of the spikes of the brush. They were the "teeth" that wouldn't let go of my hair. Suppose, I thought to myself, I cut off all the spikes of the brush. Would that work?

---

I put on a face of bravery towards the daunting task before me. There were probably a hundred or so of those spikes. I finally took out a pair of scissors, with absolute conviction that it wasn't going anywhere near my hair (like that was possible), and it was only going to cut the spikes off of the brush.

---

Looking back, if those spikes were made of rubber or something, I might have actually succeeded. But they were something close to iron. Scissors, obviously, did not work against them.

And so, as I sat beside the sink in my bathroom... the tears started coming on. I am so embarassed to admit this, but I guess it adds to the story. If I'd known what was waiting in store for me an hour earlier when I walked into the bathroom, I'd probably not touch my hair for two weeks.

There I was, bawling my eyes out, questioning the great Heavens why I was being treated so horribly; shadowed by what could only be bad luck.

Soaked in self-pity, I took out the pliers. One by one, I started wiggling each of the "tooth" out of "the monster".

Can you imagine me? Sitting on the bathroom counter, tears streaming down my face, a humongous lump on the side of my head, a pair of pliers tugging out bits of iron...

---

How on earth did I manage to get myself into this situation?

---

As I continued my ill-fated journey, I came to a certain self-acceptance.

Simply put, I accepted what had befallen me, and was prepared to deal with the consequences.

Ok. Change that last sentence into:

Screw this BS. I was sick and tired of having dangerous instruments with me alone in the washroom, weeping with hatred. If I was going down that road in the first place, I'd have a razor in my hand, not pliers.

Next thing I knew, I'd snatched my pair of scissors to start chopping away at my hair. It only took one minute (or less), and the brush was out. As well as a whole bunch of hair.

I looked into the mirror. I'd officially labeled myself as a freak... as if I wasn't a freak in the first place for going through all that drama and ending up with the same result. I cut bangs for myself too.

So now? I have half a small muchroom cut on the left side of my head, uneven bangs, and significantly less hair (which isn't too bad of a thing).

But I'm not a pessimist. With a clip and some hopeful wishing that the people around me are blind, I function as well as I used to.

Well... that was just one of those defining moments of my life. I have a couple more, but I guess I'll save them for later.

Hopefully you enjoyed a few chuckles at my expense,
- Annie

Olympics

Wow.

Don't know how I've managed not to talk about the Olympics up until now.

Yesterday night, at approximately 12:00am, I was sitting on the edge of the sofa, gripping onto the side for dear life, and hardly breathing.

I was watching the Women's Gymnastics team finals.

I couldn't believe what took place before my eyes. It was soooo dramatic! Better than a good movie. It was mainly between the U.S. and China (I was watching NBC, so it was especially about the U.S. team), and I couldn't believe I was gasping away along with the audience.

Well, the first thing was the actual moves they pulled off. For me, the scariest is the balance beam. All that jumping on something similar to a tightrope.... amazing.

The girls of both teams did really well. And I mean REALLY WELL. The race was pretty close too, except at the very end.

I think in this case, it's hardly a case of skill, but rather a case of nerves, optimism and delivery. All your competitors are in top shape, millions of people are staring at you (19 000 are there personally to stare at you) and this event embodies the pinnacle of your career. Imagine the pressure! I get shivers just thinking about it.

Though the United States won silver, they were very, very close. Nastia Lukin, wow. That girl got 16.9/17 for the bars. That's gotta be something to be proud of.

And the Chinese won gold. They deserved it, as was said by the NBC commentator. One of the girls, I don't know her name, but she was the all-around gymnast... I was blown away by her. How could anyone be so amazing onstage... I don't know.

It was definitely a thrill watching the Olympics last night.

On another note, Michael Phelps just became the first person in history to win the most career gold medals (11 at this point), and going on to win the most gold medals at a single Olympics (8, was it?)

I am speechless, watching him swim. He makes it look so easy 'cause he's so relaxed! Everybody else is flailing around him, and he's just going steadily on. Goodness, he broke like 50 World Records. And what does he do after winning the 11th gold medal (I wonder if it's possible to ever be tired of standing on the podium)? He easily takes off his swimming goggles, looks at the board and seems slightly angry that he broke the World Record by less than he wanted to.

I have wonder if he's the best swimmer this world has ever seen...

Also, South Korea is doing REALLY well right now. It's third behind China and the States with 6 Golds. I'd have thought it would be Russia or Germany (from past Oympics), but I'm pretty proud of them. There was this swimmer (forgot his name), that fell into the pool right before the race started at the 2004 Olympics and GOT DISQUALIFIED. Goodness, that must have felt so bad. He was really embarrassed too.

Anyway, this year, he went and won the first gold medal in swimming for South Korea. I think anyone in the world, no matter what nationality, would have been proud of him.

There are so many other stories I have regarding the olympics, but I'll save that for another time.

I'm finished Cry Wolf by Patricia Briggs, and have decided not to do a review. I think I'm doing too many book reviews at this point. I'd like to focus a bit more on manga.

Yesterday, I discovered the manga Kakan no Madonna. I REALLY, REALLY liked it. It reminds of Red River/Anatolia Story so much. But of course, nothing I've found could actually compare.

I am not reading this post over. I don't have grammer check, spell check, etc etc. So, spot anything wrong, Comment or Shout me.

Young Voices

I'm getting published in Young Voices! Cool, isn't it?

My short story - A New Face in a New Country won the entitlement. To be honest, I wrote this between the summer of grade eight and grade nine, so it wasn't exactly my best piece ever. However, when I thought about stories I could send to the Toronto Public Library annual young adult magazine, this was one of my only stories that delt with a topic that seemed appropriate.

I think you can guess what the topic is about just by looking at the title. It's very short (approx. 500 words) detailing the first day of school for a Romanian girl who just arrived (in Canada?)... it really could be anywhere. She goes on to being humiliated, but in the end finding a good friend.

Cheesy, huh? Well, it's not my usual cup of tea, but my fingers were itchy to try out a lot of stuff back then. I've explored a variety of genres since then, including an awesome love story that all of my friends like. It just goes on to show how I've changed.

On another note, this is my first time being published (I think... if you don't count letters to the ed. and all that stuff). I'm looking forward to seeing it in print.

Q&A

I came across these questions a while ago. They were interesting so I stopped to answer them.

1. Do you have any fixed time to write your stories?

Nope. Though I like writing in the morning and working throughout the day as opposed to starting at night. However, that can't really be helped with school work and stuff like that.

2. Do you need any special stationery or type of paper for writing purposes?(maybe ink, stone, wood, cloth etc... to each one's own devices...) OR, do you use the laptop/ desktop, instead?

Hardly. I write on anything and everything. My writing is scribbled all over the place and it's hard to find them afterwards. I love using the laptop, but i type faster than the speed my ideas come to me. That's a problem because half the time I'm just sitting there and thinking. And when I'm just sitting there, I get easily distracted. So oftentimes, I write on paper and then transfer it onto the computer.

3. Do you any beverages/food to accompany you during these times?

A can of sprite is awesome.

4. Do you use music? or Is music your main influence?

No, I find it's distracting sometimes. I like the quiet, so I can focus on what's happening in the story as opposed to what the lyrics are. I have tried it many times... I find that my work quality decreases in those cases.

5. Do you need to write everything down in one sitting or more?

Never. Unless whatever it is happens to be due the next morning, I don't usually do everything in one sitting. I usually do a rough, look over it and leave it for a while. I'll come back to it with a fresh mind for the good copy.

6. Do you have your own muse?

He/she (transvestite, I suppose) lives in my head. Heshe doesn't come out often, but if there's some food and a sprite nearby, Heshe takes over and pours out ideas on every writable surface. No.

7. Do you keep a notebook/diary for listing any sudden inspiration?

Most of the time no. However, if I do happen to come across something amazingly interesting, I will find paper and pencils to record it down. I don't walk around with a pad of paper in my hand (though I bet I'd be more productive if I did).

100% Perfect Girl

I found it fitting to use my first post to describe the origin of the name of this blog.

It's inspired by the manga 100% Perfect Girl by Wann, and the manga took root from the short story On Seeing the 100% Perfect Girl One Beautiful April Morning by Haruki Murakami.

Simply put, Jarte (a boy) is looking for Jay (a girl). What more is there to say?

Both stories feature a poignant love story that delves into the notion of love at first sight. I've never really believed in love at first sight (I have been appropriately distressed at Shakespeare for so deeply entrenching such a superficial concept in our society with his Romeo and Juliet). However, I looked past this blight to gather what both authors want to leave us with - to never pass up a chance when some innate, incomprehensible gut feeling tells us to go for it.

I think this is what the name of my blog is trying to convey. It's a bit more than the quickie of "bam! bam! I've fallen in love!" but rather the discovery of who we are based on the relationships we form with those around us.

...Or you can just say that I liked the feeling of inspiration that I got from reading J is Looking for J across the billboards of Seoul (Ok, by this point, you really need to have read the manga and short story to know what I'm talking about).

Anyway, don't get me wrong with my obstinate stance regarding love at first sight (many people have tried to convince me otherwise with tellings and retellings of 90 year old couples whose eyes met over a crowd of other eligible singles) - I'm actually quite open to different ideas.

I think there can definitely be a sense of attraction between two people staring each other down or passing by on the way to the supermarket. But to this day, I still don't believe that it's enough. An initial infatuation with the other person based on appearance and stance is not something I'd consider love. I don't believe you can judge another person in his/her entirety based on one lofty look alone (not to mention tres jaded by shallowness). I think considerable time is needed to find out more about the person, and learn to love him/her.

Those instances where true love occurred in the sizzle of electricity conducted by the momentary glance between two people? Coincidence. Attraction is the foundation of love. But it's not love.

The two masterpieces (in my perspective) have caused me to spend a considerable amount of time commiserating over the fact that nothing I draw or write would ever match up to such ingenious talent and beating myself over the head for procrastinating on my American History essay.

Either way, they're great reads for inspiration, or when you have some free time.

I have sidetracked from my original topic. After establishing the origin of this blog, I wanted to go into detail regarding its purpose.

Plain and simple: to discuss literature.

I am an avid reader and writer (have you noticed that the word "avid" most commonly appears with "reader" or "writer"?). I spent the week before exams browsing through mangas and novels. It has become an obsession that that I cannot (and probably will never) get over. All in all, it's a good thing. Reading makes way for writing, and that's something I need to catch up on with this blog and Pantomime.

Pantomime has become my high school baby. I started it on Saint Patrick's day as a sophomore and it is now approximately 30 pages from being finished (I'm currently in line to be the new generation of seniors at my school). I am unsure whether to deem this 300 page fantasy romance a tremendous achievement or a horrifying nightmare. It certainly fits both categories at times. My free days this summer shall be soaked with my endless typing and editing for this story... so I will leave this topic for a later time.

About the blog: raves and reviews are my thing. I guess I'll be focusing mainly on my current reading list, but I am also totally looking forward to discussing awesome books I've read before. There are definitely some books that have defined my literary career (which is nonexistent, but nobody needs to know) and have influenced my writing a great deal.

Signing off,
Annie

Ps. Take a look at this.