Sunday, February 15, 2009

Stream of (Un)conciousness

I attended a writing workshop last Friday till very late. Surprised myself at how well read I am if I do say so myself. 

Yet that is one love affair that was left to wither at the sacrificial alter of "other more important stuff", usually directly related to sleep, keeping a job and vanity writing such as this. 

Photography shared similar destiny. How I miss the SLR and the assortment of lenses. I swear I will get it back. My Preciouss. But then I know people with far better talent than me. 

On talent, I must be one of the very few that has been imbued with absolutely no gifts of any sort. The brother inherited the entire family quota of musical acumen. Guess that is why I have always found musicians so fascinating. But they are so out of my league. Not pretty enough to be taken seriously, and no talent to impress anybody. Geeks make lousy groupies. 

Hope you had a better valentine's day. The highlight of my day was eating eu char koay dipped in half boiled eggs for breakfast. Don't knock it till you've tried it. But yeah, it was a dismal day. 

Spent the rest of the day number crunching till I wished a plane would crash into my apartment building to save me the trouble from having to kill myself. There are other reasons for that as well. 

What else could make a sorrowful valentine worse, you snort? 
A compulsory annual dinner with a movie theme! (repeat above wish of crashing plane) 

New, friendless and penniless, I snubbed the costume shops, purposely bought a green tie instead of a red one and went to the ball as an alternate universe Hermione Granger from Slytherin. My red and naturally frizzy hair ensured that the people at the ball knew exactly who I was. 

I was impressed with the enthusiasm of some of my new workmates. One guy came in a gorilla suit. Another in green body paint and a tattered t-shirt. There were dozens of Men in black, Cleopatras, Jack Sparrows and Neos. 

As as per tradition, I won nothing at the lucky draw. Not the Wii, not the PS3, not the 42 inch LCD TV, not even a pathetic glaucometer. All that positive visualisation came to squat. I am gonna contact that lady who wrote The Secret and ask for my money back. No wait. I downloaded that. Never mind. 

The weeks have been rough. Right now, I am just gonna concentrate on surviving one day at a time. 

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

May I ask what writer's workshop it was? Your readers would be interested to know. Thanks.

Mlle Monster said...

It was one run by the British Council - City of Stories: Life into Fiction.

I enrolled hoping that it would further inspire me to get a move on my fiction writing. I found it insightful and an interesting experience to be with other aspiring writers. More articulate ones at that.