Everything Goes

I think it's irrevocable that I am having a grasp on how short life is because of my constant exposure to the British mindset. It's becoming more and more imperative for me to enjoy life and make sense, or better yet be a sense to it. The fact that I need to make the most out of this blog is becoming as important as well. So I think I'll be doing personal posts more often than before.

This week I have received the new item from my sponsor Lazada Philippines. John Green has been a constant stir to me this year because most of my friends are telling me that he's something. I honestly got no solid basis on picking The Fault In Our Stars since Paper Towns isn't available. But John Green, I tell you, you got big shoes to fill for I have just recently finished what could be the most philosophical book this 21st century, The Testament of Gideon Mack, and my standards are greatly heightened.

We had a seminar on creative writing with Jose Dalisay Jr., a Palanca Hall of Famer, as our guest speaker. Contrary to what people believe, I don't really like literary seminars, for I believe that no lecture can improve my writing as much as constant practice can. Other writers' styles will never fit in you perfectly, although a period of imitation and apprenticeship is necessary, at some points you would have to go and get your own stuff done. Perhaps it is my sheer stubborn attitude that makes me think that way. However, I was surprised with the fact that I ended up loving the seminar. Apparently, the venerable speaker share the same mindset as I do: Go write something and let's see. Also, he emphasized that writing is highly intuitive, and you just have to let it go and pondering should come after. There are still lots of stuff he said that truly made a mark and I am thinking of writing a separate post for it. Let's see where the water would go.

This makes me remember something that happened a week before. A respectable writer at my school said that one would never be considered as a writer if he hasn't won that certain award yet. I am deeply saddened by this. Him, of all the person in our university, should know what writing really is and how it works for most of the people. I have tried to understand that it is a part of his own ideals and that I, at any rate, should respect it, but I just can't, and really, I wouldn't. 

I say we all are writers. A preschooler's small sentence about his toy, a teenager's poem about his first crush, a frustrated writer's first novel draft- all are as much as important as a winning masterpiece. The beauty of writing is highly relative to the writer. A secret work is as valuable as the one given of great honor. The essence, not the end, of a literary piece is the one that truly matters the most.

Enough with the heaviness, this week my taste buds acted as if they're predators in need of constant supply of blood. I wasn't hungry at all time but I needed flavor every now and then. And yes, those are pink nails. I needed color as much as I needed flavor.

Isn't it poetic? Actually, my winning short story for the writing competition I joined a couple of days ago was highly inspired by this curtain. If I haven't seen it drifting through the wind while reflecting the sunrise one nostalgic morning, I would never have written the story.

Good angle. Bad Quality.

My bookshelf upgrades this week! Expect a series of new book reviews... and awesome book quotes on my twitter!
As I have told you, I have recently finished reading what could be the most philosophical book of the 21st century, The Testament of Gideon Mack. I would gladly share my thoughts about it in a precise book review soon!
I would end this post with a line of my favorite song of the moment, Christina Perri's A Thousand Years.
I am not in love with someone, I am in love with the idea of love, it's like being pointless romantic. I don't really care if you won't believe it.

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