Years and years of waiting for an all-wolf cast movie, and out comes Alpha and Omega. Sadly, this film falls behind as the runt of the pack.
Unless you're a purist believer in wolves, you might want to cringe as you watch this film. As much as the trailer says "We can eat together, but we can't, you know, howl together", you'll probably be agreeing by whimpering in pity instead at the end.
So, here are 10 things from the movie which might have just easily gone to the dogs:
1. Wolves do more than just howl; they burst out into song.
2. The moon brings out the show-biz performer in every wolf.
3. Alpha she-wolves have all the flexibility of Olympic gymnasts.
4. Eating too many berries will make you go high and hippie-like.
5. Male wolves have toilet issues and possibly smaller bladders than the females.
6. Don't leave frosting on your mouth, especially if you're a member of the canine family.
7. A piece of log equals one wild joyride.
8. Birds play golf in the hopes of getting, well, a birdie.
9. It is pointless to do a rain dance in the middle of a downpour.
10. If you want to bring down a pack of birds, howl completely out of tune.
Looks like there isn't the perfect wolf movie yet, so until then, guess we'll all be howling at the moon.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Madame Butterfly
In my world of dreams, I saw her.
The woman with the butterfly’s wings. The lady that carried death on the wind.
When I awoke the next morning, I thought of nothing but her. I remember it all clearly. How she grew younger with each passing minute. How the world seemed to change around her but she never did, not even for a second’s blessing.
I never quite got her out of my mind. But she wasn’t just a figment of my imagination.
She really does exist, you know.
You have to remember that it was she who did not come to me. For it would have made all the differences in the world.
I wouldn’t be here to tell you so.
There is a meadow somewhere in the field of dreams, where the air is fresh with the scent of after-rain, where you can see the high hills that stretch beyond the horizon, and the sky is filled with butterflies; thousands of them in a myriad menagerie of colours.
The souls of all mankind.
She makes her home amongst the fragile things; she plays with them and sings to them when they are feeling lonely.
And when she descends upon the mortal world, she unfolds her wings. They are like paper fans; delicate and etched with pretty colours, while the tips are rimmed with shades of black.
Black was never related to death. It is the colour of change.
Death, on the other hand, is a rainbow of colours. She has seen life flash before her eyes in streams of red, which is why she cries pools of blue misery. Yet there is the promise of hope that shines warm and yellow, for life is green when it begins anew, like fresh spring grass. And then there are all the rest of the colours blended onto this easel – the little things that make our lives meaningful, because the world will be but a blank canvas without them.
Death isn’t all about a bed of skulls or an angel of stone towering over another piece of stone.
That’s the reaper’s job.
No one’s seen him, of course. But if she exists, then perhaps, so does he.
You think you know what death is because you’ve stayed up all night with weary eyes, standing guard over the lifeless but ominous casket.
You’ve been led to believe that by putting up a masquerade of sympathy and tears, you would be accepted into a society that has embraced death the way the blind hold one another.
But she’ll let you in on a secret – something you don’t know about yourself.
The truth is, in the eyes of death, we are as worse, if not the same, as the common moth who plays the fool; a parody of the original thing itself. For the moth is by far a greater scavenger than the vulture, and while it does not share the same diet of flesh as the bird of carrion, this agent of death becomes a plague of deceit.
It deceives us all.
We appear to be as dull and as lifeless as the faded and washed-out colours of the moth’s wings in the face of death. But given the opportunity, we are creatures drawn so easily to other people’s sorrows. We feed on them because it makes us feel better than our fellow neighbour who is wretched with misfortune.
We are moths in nature; drawn to the flames of anguish and grief.
It pains her to watch as the humans grow into trees of their former selves; all gnarly and wrinkled, and slowly perishing on the inside. She has decided that she too wants to die, but the extent of her mortality stretches as far as the end of the universe.
A line on her face might disappear every now and then; her skin grows smoother than a cat’s warm pelt, but that’s all there is to her youth. After all, beautiful butterflies can’t exactly crawl back into their cocoons and start all over as grubby little caterpillars.
But when a soul departs from its body, it emerges from a shell of its former self. It is free of pain, sickness and death; free as the wings it has now grown on its back.
And when it flies, it comes into her gentle grasp.
She cradles it in her palms as she would a newborn babe, and sings of sweet songs and promises as its little wings kiss the hands of the maiden who hides her woes.
There will be plenty of butterflies to play with in my garden of dreams, she whispers. Come with me, and we will fly away to a place where happiness is free and innocence is bliss.
And I think you know the rest.
When you are old and all alone, take some time to shut yourself away from the chaos that is the world around you. Listen to what the songs of silence have to say.
If the only sound you hear is the slow beating of your heart, listen, listen carefully, and perhaps you will hear the gentle patter of wings flapping in the distant breeze – that is the sound of life that is close to its cyclic end.
And it doesn’t matter if it happens in April’s showers or December’s frost, but eventually, she will come. She wants to know you like her best friend.
When you are gone and your children’s children are gone, though I may not think about you, but she will always.
She never forgets.
The woman with the butterfly’s wings. The lady that carried death on the wind.
When I awoke the next morning, I thought of nothing but her. I remember it all clearly. How she grew younger with each passing minute. How the world seemed to change around her but she never did, not even for a second’s blessing.
I never quite got her out of my mind. But she wasn’t just a figment of my imagination.
She really does exist, you know.
You have to remember that it was she who did not come to me. For it would have made all the differences in the world.
I wouldn’t be here to tell you so.
There is a meadow somewhere in the field of dreams, where the air is fresh with the scent of after-rain, where you can see the high hills that stretch beyond the horizon, and the sky is filled with butterflies; thousands of them in a myriad menagerie of colours.
The souls of all mankind.
She makes her home amongst the fragile things; she plays with them and sings to them when they are feeling lonely.
And when she descends upon the mortal world, she unfolds her wings. They are like paper fans; delicate and etched with pretty colours, while the tips are rimmed with shades of black.
Black was never related to death. It is the colour of change.
Death, on the other hand, is a rainbow of colours. She has seen life flash before her eyes in streams of red, which is why she cries pools of blue misery. Yet there is the promise of hope that shines warm and yellow, for life is green when it begins anew, like fresh spring grass. And then there are all the rest of the colours blended onto this easel – the little things that make our lives meaningful, because the world will be but a blank canvas without them.
Death isn’t all about a bed of skulls or an angel of stone towering over another piece of stone.
That’s the reaper’s job.
No one’s seen him, of course. But if she exists, then perhaps, so does he.
You think you know what death is because you’ve stayed up all night with weary eyes, standing guard over the lifeless but ominous casket.
You’ve been led to believe that by putting up a masquerade of sympathy and tears, you would be accepted into a society that has embraced death the way the blind hold one another.
But she’ll let you in on a secret – something you don’t know about yourself.
The truth is, in the eyes of death, we are as worse, if not the same, as the common moth who plays the fool; a parody of the original thing itself. For the moth is by far a greater scavenger than the vulture, and while it does not share the same diet of flesh as the bird of carrion, this agent of death becomes a plague of deceit.
It deceives us all.
We appear to be as dull and as lifeless as the faded and washed-out colours of the moth’s wings in the face of death. But given the opportunity, we are creatures drawn so easily to other people’s sorrows. We feed on them because it makes us feel better than our fellow neighbour who is wretched with misfortune.
We are moths in nature; drawn to the flames of anguish and grief.
It pains her to watch as the humans grow into trees of their former selves; all gnarly and wrinkled, and slowly perishing on the inside. She has decided that she too wants to die, but the extent of her mortality stretches as far as the end of the universe.
A line on her face might disappear every now and then; her skin grows smoother than a cat’s warm pelt, but that’s all there is to her youth. After all, beautiful butterflies can’t exactly crawl back into their cocoons and start all over as grubby little caterpillars.
But when a soul departs from its body, it emerges from a shell of its former self. It is free of pain, sickness and death; free as the wings it has now grown on its back.
And when it flies, it comes into her gentle grasp.
She cradles it in her palms as she would a newborn babe, and sings of sweet songs and promises as its little wings kiss the hands of the maiden who hides her woes.
There will be plenty of butterflies to play with in my garden of dreams, she whispers. Come with me, and we will fly away to a place where happiness is free and innocence is bliss.
And I think you know the rest.
When you are old and all alone, take some time to shut yourself away from the chaos that is the world around you. Listen to what the songs of silence have to say.
If the only sound you hear is the slow beating of your heart, listen, listen carefully, and perhaps you will hear the gentle patter of wings flapping in the distant breeze – that is the sound of life that is close to its cyclic end.
And it doesn’t matter if it happens in April’s showers or December’s frost, but eventually, she will come. She wants to know you like her best friend.
When you are gone and your children’s children are gone, though I may not think about you, but she will always.
She never forgets.
Monday, September 13, 2010
300? Not Quite, But I'm Already There
My limbs still feel like they're straining from all that weight I've been carrying around with me. Weight that can be measured in books, that is.
It's been my first visit ever to the Popular Book Fair convention, and I must say, the experience is quite the heart attack. Seriously.
I died and went to book heaven in that hour of temporary happiness.
No pictures allowed to be taken, but you really have to be there to experience it for yourself.
So now I'm adding these new books into my collection. It's true that I now have over 300 and counting, but some of them are encyclopedias, or they don't exactly belong to me. Because in my family, I am the keeper of many reads.
Here's what I brought back as a souvenir of my visit:
1 & 2. Guardians of Ga'Hoole: The Journey and The Rescue by Kathryn Lasky. Two titles to a follow-up of the first book I read and enjoyed many years ago. With the upcoming Legend of the Guardians movie, I will adhere to my code of "read the book before you watch the movie".
3. The Left Hand of God by Paul Hoffman. The new paperback has a very cool-looking cover, and it's suppose to tell you about a guy named Cale who might destroy the world. Maybe he will.
4. The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson. Hardcover which costs me only RM17 instead of 79. Very good praise and blurbs for a story of mystery and love from many different countries. Has a storyteller's point of view too.
5. The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. Taken from the synopsis: "I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the ministrels weep. You may have heard of me." Isn't that enough to make you want to read it?
6. The Shining by Stephen King. Ah yes, another of the King of horror writers' works falls into my hands. Which brings my S.K collection up to 12.
To me, I say: Happy Reading! :)
It's been my first visit ever to the Popular Book Fair convention, and I must say, the experience is quite the heart attack. Seriously.
I died and went to book heaven in that hour of temporary happiness.
No pictures allowed to be taken, but you really have to be there to experience it for yourself.
So now I'm adding these new books into my collection. It's true that I now have over 300 and counting, but some of them are encyclopedias, or they don't exactly belong to me. Because in my family, I am the keeper of many reads.
Here's what I brought back as a souvenir of my visit:
1 & 2. Guardians of Ga'Hoole: The Journey and The Rescue by Kathryn Lasky. Two titles to a follow-up of the first book I read and enjoyed many years ago. With the upcoming Legend of the Guardians movie, I will adhere to my code of "read the book before you watch the movie".
3. The Left Hand of God by Paul Hoffman. The new paperback has a very cool-looking cover, and it's suppose to tell you about a guy named Cale who might destroy the world. Maybe he will.
4. The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson. Hardcover which costs me only RM17 instead of 79. Very good praise and blurbs for a story of mystery and love from many different countries. Has a storyteller's point of view too.
5. The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. Taken from the synopsis: "I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the ministrels weep. You may have heard of me." Isn't that enough to make you want to read it?
6. The Shining by Stephen King. Ah yes, another of the King of horror writers' works falls into my hands. Which brings my S.K collection up to 12.
To me, I say: Happy Reading! :)
Sunday, September 12, 2010
25 - A Random Number for Random Things
Something I did on Facebook out of complete boredom. Basically, it's one of those 25 things about yourself, and you've got to tag 25 people to do it.
So I thought long and hard. In the end, this is what I came up with:
1. The reason I chose to do this is because it's becoming quite the craze on my Facebook page, and I was inspired to write one of my own.
2. Having said that, I get frustrated when I can't think of something new to write.
3. My height is 6 feet and 3 inches (because so many people have been asking me this, I feel like a girrafe!)
4. I may not be street smart, but I am book smart! :)
5. People have told me that I have an unusual ability to stay calm in a dire situation (but mostly, it's during exams).
6. I have a fascination for pictures of predators (lions, tigers, wolves, those of the mammal class etc.), because there's something mysteriously beautiful about these deadly creatures.
7. If I had to name 5 of my favourite authors who have shaped my life, they are: Neil Gaiman, Stephen King, Erin Hunter, Roald Dahl and J.K. Rowling. :)
8. I am a fan of the Warriors series, and an avid collector of the books (28 titles in my collection right now, and still counting).
9. I never had the chance to do an ISU (Independent Study Unit) for English in college, but if I did, I would have based it on Watership Down by Richard Adams. One of my truly favourite reads.
10. My fingers are always counting the number of syllables in every sentence, song, or title (book and movie).
11. For the rest of the year, I will not eat any octopus, in respect of the great Paul who was ALWAYS RIGHT and led Spain to victory. Yes, I'm a Paul supporter.
12. I took up kenjitsu (samurai sword fencing) for a year in college. So I do know the basics of attacking and defending with a sword.
13. I'm really interested in Greek mythology, and that's because it started with me finding out about my namesake (Jason who led the Argonauts on the quest of the Golden Fleece).
14. During my college graduation ceremony, the organizers mentioned that I would be furthering my studies in Biomedical Science. Boy, were they wrong!
15. Until today, I'm still wondering what the hell was I doing taking Physics in secondary school.
16. I know how to burp at will.
17. The most annoying sound I've ever heard is the sound of Velcro. You might as well just rip my ears off.
18. I sleep with 4 books or more on my bed. No surprises.
19. Whenever I'm writing a story or an assignment on Word Document, the word count MUST end with any even number or 5. Otherwise, I get all nervous.
20. I'm the oddball in my family. What did you expect? No one's perfect!
21. According to my birth cert, I'm born in the year of the Goat, but also in the hour of the Snake. How ironic is that?
22. I like cheese, but ONLY on pizza and pasta. And I don't eat those Kraft singles or square pieces, ergh!
23. I have two blogs - Jayson's Lexicon and The Hopeful Storyteller. But it's the first one that I put more of my heart and soul into.
24. To date, these are the only movies that I have seen twice in the cinema: Goblet of Fire, Bolt (in 3D), and The Karate Kid.
25. I think I might be the most boring person on the planet, but then again, it's just me.
* Bonus 26. I believe that you should challenge the ordinary. And that's not just me for practicing my writing. But I learn to avoid cliches and stereotypes.
So I thought long and hard. In the end, this is what I came up with:
1. The reason I chose to do this is because it's becoming quite the craze on my Facebook page, and I was inspired to write one of my own.
2. Having said that, I get frustrated when I can't think of something new to write.
3. My height is 6 feet and 3 inches (because so many people have been asking me this, I feel like a girrafe!)
4. I may not be street smart, but I am book smart! :)
5. People have told me that I have an unusual ability to stay calm in a dire situation (but mostly, it's during exams).
6. I have a fascination for pictures of predators (lions, tigers, wolves, those of the mammal class etc.), because there's something mysteriously beautiful about these deadly creatures.
7. If I had to name 5 of my favourite authors who have shaped my life, they are: Neil Gaiman, Stephen King, Erin Hunter, Roald Dahl and J.K. Rowling. :)
8. I am a fan of the Warriors series, and an avid collector of the books (28 titles in my collection right now, and still counting).
9. I never had the chance to do an ISU (Independent Study Unit) for English in college, but if I did, I would have based it on Watership Down by Richard Adams. One of my truly favourite reads.
10. My fingers are always counting the number of syllables in every sentence, song, or title (book and movie).
11. For the rest of the year, I will not eat any octopus, in respect of the great Paul who was ALWAYS RIGHT and led Spain to victory. Yes, I'm a Paul supporter.
12. I took up kenjitsu (samurai sword fencing) for a year in college. So I do know the basics of attacking and defending with a sword.
13. I'm really interested in Greek mythology, and that's because it started with me finding out about my namesake (Jason who led the Argonauts on the quest of the Golden Fleece).
14. During my college graduation ceremony, the organizers mentioned that I would be furthering my studies in Biomedical Science. Boy, were they wrong!
15. Until today, I'm still wondering what the hell was I doing taking Physics in secondary school.
16. I know how to burp at will.
17. The most annoying sound I've ever heard is the sound of Velcro. You might as well just rip my ears off.
18. I sleep with 4 books or more on my bed. No surprises.
19. Whenever I'm writing a story or an assignment on Word Document, the word count MUST end with any even number or 5. Otherwise, I get all nervous.
20. I'm the oddball in my family. What did you expect? No one's perfect!
21. According to my birth cert, I'm born in the year of the Goat, but also in the hour of the Snake. How ironic is that?
22. I like cheese, but ONLY on pizza and pasta. And I don't eat those Kraft singles or square pieces, ergh!
23. I have two blogs - Jayson's Lexicon and The Hopeful Storyteller. But it's the first one that I put more of my heart and soul into.
24. To date, these are the only movies that I have seen twice in the cinema: Goblet of Fire, Bolt (in 3D), and The Karate Kid.
25. I think I might be the most boring person on the planet, but then again, it's just me.
* Bonus 26. I believe that you should challenge the ordinary. And that's not just me for practicing my writing. But I learn to avoid cliches and stereotypes.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Unproductive Productiveness
Having not written a self reflection for over two weeks, I feel like I’m slacking off and becoming a little unproductive in my writing. I can’t even think up of a new piece to write and I need to scream! But thankfully, this piece had got me back on track.
So, first thing I want to say is the progress of my new blog. It’s not as lengthy and as interesting as my other blog, especially since I’ve only put in one entry at the start – which talks about the kind of people that I believe writers truly are.
While I haven’t spread the word about it in my new blog, it already has become an inspiration to others on my Facebook page, and I have received a handful of nice comments regarding that piece.
Maybe I’ll want to focus my blog on topics with writing and book reviews in them; kind of like in Section Two in the Star newspapers where they put up articles about books and the reading habit (along with the occasional tips for writers) every Tuesdays and Fridays.
Everyone has their own writing style. You have yours. I have mine. That’s what makes us so unique amongst the rest.
Today, I’ve just put in another entry, along with the rest of my fellow classmates. It’s an instant news article regarding the controversial issue about the international Burn a Quran Day on 9/11. Everybody is getting caught up in this competition over trying to produce the best piece, so I guess it won’t be surprising when everyone tries to take a grab out of the event happening on the actual day itself!
So, first thing I want to say is the progress of my new blog. It’s not as lengthy and as interesting as my other blog, especially since I’ve only put in one entry at the start – which talks about the kind of people that I believe writers truly are.
While I haven’t spread the word about it in my new blog, it already has become an inspiration to others on my Facebook page, and I have received a handful of nice comments regarding that piece.
Maybe I’ll want to focus my blog on topics with writing and book reviews in them; kind of like in Section Two in the Star newspapers where they put up articles about books and the reading habit (along with the occasional tips for writers) every Tuesdays and Fridays.
Everyone has their own writing style. You have yours. I have mine. That’s what makes us so unique amongst the rest.
Today, I’ve just put in another entry, along with the rest of my fellow classmates. It’s an instant news article regarding the controversial issue about the international Burn a Quran Day on 9/11. Everybody is getting caught up in this competition over trying to produce the best piece, so I guess it won’t be surprising when everyone tries to take a grab out of the event happening on the actual day itself!
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Craving the Horror...and the Upcoming
To some extent I'm feeling bored; almost to the brink of restlessness.
And while I always find remedies for idleness through the comforting world of pages and words, I am in need of a movie with horror written all over it.
Last month's Carrie on Cinemax was a nice back-to-earth moment to remind me of how old school films (pun intended) still show great potential.
Now I'm almost sick to my guts of having to bear with movies on Astro which are either re-runs or don't seem to have much to give a huzzah about.
Fortunately, September sees spectacular shows ahead. Now's a good time as any to compose a movie list:
1. Piranha
2. The King of Fighters
3. Resident Evil: Afterlife
4. Legend of the Guardians
And while I always find remedies for idleness through the comforting world of pages and words, I am in need of a movie with horror written all over it.
Last month's Carrie on Cinemax was a nice back-to-earth moment to remind me of how old school films (pun intended) still show great potential.
Now I'm almost sick to my guts of having to bear with movies on Astro which are either re-runs or don't seem to have much to give a huzzah about.
Fortunately, September sees spectacular shows ahead. Now's a good time as any to compose a movie list:
1. Piranha
2. The King of Fighters
3. Resident Evil: Afterlife
4. Legend of the Guardians
Sunday, August 22, 2010
What Makes A Writer?
This is dedicated to those who have laid a pen on paper; to those who share a passion for the written word.
Should you ever find yourself lost at a crossroads with your worst enemy, the block, lingering at the corner of your shoulder, always remember the kind of person you choose to be as a writer, and how you relate with it to the world:
1. Writers are trendsetters. While they may not be the pioneers for establishing brand new literary genres, they are the first to set its boundaries in terms of style and substance. They play by their rules. Sometimes they transcend out of the box, and it is their uniqueness which sets them apart from others of the same kind.
2. Writers are free-thinkers. In that sense, they have their own set of beliefs – that good will triumph over evil, a solution must be made for every conflict set, and that not everyone is as good as they seem. But mostly, a writer believes that he has a story to tell, and that the world is an audience just waiting for him to spread their words.
3. Writers are manipulators. They not only play with their words, but they play with your emotions. And it doesn’t matter what kind of genre they choose to write under – they are known to break spirits, pull at heartstrings, and even stir up feelings of old. But by the end of the day, they turn out to be charmers, because they’ll assure you there is such a thing as a happily ever after.
4. The writer is a dreamer. There is never a moment when you don’t catch him living in a world of his own. He may be listening to your conversations and even participate in social interactions, but his mind is wandering elsewhere, probably thinking up new stories, plots, characters and what should he name his next creation.
5. Writers are inspirationists. You pick up a book by your favourite author, find it to be the best read ever, and go “Damn, I wish I’d written this instead!” How often have you felt that way, and then decide you’ll write the next best thing, while inspired to find your own writing style and voice?
6. Writers are perfectionists. Every word, every sentence must be lined up piece by piece like an exact puzzle. But they know that they will never be satisfied with the final result. So they cut out, extend, shorten and add in words; hacking at every detail like an ice sculpture until it resembles perfection in all of its grandeur.
7. Writers are collectors. The average person knows of about 20,000 words, but only uses 2,000 of them in his vocabulary. A writer knows more, and collects words for his lexicon. Writers are also bibliophiles. They worship and treasure each book they have collected even better than the last, like a priceless gem.
8. The writer is the human equivalent of the sphinx. What you see on the outside is just a reflection; an exterior of the shell that only shows you what you see. He is mysterious, exclusive and keeps to himself. Secrets are a plenty within him, but don’t expect to read him like an open book – for he won’t tell you anything.
9. A writer is an artist. With his hand in grip of the pen or his fingers at the keyboard, that blank piece of paper or that empty screen starts off as his canvas. Ink flows in a writer’s blood, and it is conveyed as a string of words, lines, or sentences to create a masterpiece. His hands prance about gracefully, from which bears the fruit of music or artwork – in black and white.
10. Writers are the gods. They are idolized for being the creators of worlds and for producing believable characters with life of their own. Writers alone determine the fate of their universe and those who choose to call it home. A writer also lives free of his guilt as an executioner. For with a snap of the wrist and a sentence put down, they can end the lives they created if they choose to.
We are all of these. And yet, we are not.
Because what we choose to convey through our words, we choose to be ourselves.
Should you ever find yourself lost at a crossroads with your worst enemy, the block, lingering at the corner of your shoulder, always remember the kind of person you choose to be as a writer, and how you relate with it to the world:
1. Writers are trendsetters. While they may not be the pioneers for establishing brand new literary genres, they are the first to set its boundaries in terms of style and substance. They play by their rules. Sometimes they transcend out of the box, and it is their uniqueness which sets them apart from others of the same kind.
2. Writers are free-thinkers. In that sense, they have their own set of beliefs – that good will triumph over evil, a solution must be made for every conflict set, and that not everyone is as good as they seem. But mostly, a writer believes that he has a story to tell, and that the world is an audience just waiting for him to spread their words.
3. Writers are manipulators. They not only play with their words, but they play with your emotions. And it doesn’t matter what kind of genre they choose to write under – they are known to break spirits, pull at heartstrings, and even stir up feelings of old. But by the end of the day, they turn out to be charmers, because they’ll assure you there is such a thing as a happily ever after.
4. The writer is a dreamer. There is never a moment when you don’t catch him living in a world of his own. He may be listening to your conversations and even participate in social interactions, but his mind is wandering elsewhere, probably thinking up new stories, plots, characters and what should he name his next creation.
5. Writers are inspirationists. You pick up a book by your favourite author, find it to be the best read ever, and go “Damn, I wish I’d written this instead!” How often have you felt that way, and then decide you’ll write the next best thing, while inspired to find your own writing style and voice?
6. Writers are perfectionists. Every word, every sentence must be lined up piece by piece like an exact puzzle. But they know that they will never be satisfied with the final result. So they cut out, extend, shorten and add in words; hacking at every detail like an ice sculpture until it resembles perfection in all of its grandeur.
7. Writers are collectors. The average person knows of about 20,000 words, but only uses 2,000 of them in his vocabulary. A writer knows more, and collects words for his lexicon. Writers are also bibliophiles. They worship and treasure each book they have collected even better than the last, like a priceless gem.
8. The writer is the human equivalent of the sphinx. What you see on the outside is just a reflection; an exterior of the shell that only shows you what you see. He is mysterious, exclusive and keeps to himself. Secrets are a plenty within him, but don’t expect to read him like an open book – for he won’t tell you anything.
9. A writer is an artist. With his hand in grip of the pen or his fingers at the keyboard, that blank piece of paper or that empty screen starts off as his canvas. Ink flows in a writer’s blood, and it is conveyed as a string of words, lines, or sentences to create a masterpiece. His hands prance about gracefully, from which bears the fruit of music or artwork – in black and white.
10. Writers are the gods. They are idolized for being the creators of worlds and for producing believable characters with life of their own. Writers alone determine the fate of their universe and those who choose to call it home. A writer also lives free of his guilt as an executioner. For with a snap of the wrist and a sentence put down, they can end the lives they created if they choose to.
We are all of these. And yet, we are not.
Because what we choose to convey through our words, we choose to be ourselves.
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