Write in 2014 discussion

Goal (beginning Jan 5, 2010):
-100-500 words a day, on any topic.
-By the end of the year, have an idea for a story, at least!

"Congratulations on your graduation! And congratulations to me - my daughter is one month old!"

And so the first of my high school friends announced the birth of her daughter, by commenting on another friend's Facebook status. She should be busy now, preparing the lucky red eggs and boxes of goodies (traditional sticky rice? or fuss-free sponge cakes?) to give away to friends and family on the occasion of her daughter turning one month - a new moon celebration, as the older generation would have called it. Someone once told me that babies finally figure out how to smile at 30 days, which sounds like a good enough reason to celebrate.

I tell Aditi I don't feel old, not at all. If anything, I feel younger than ever, caught here in the in-between. People grow up, move on, get married, have babies, and here I stay with my eternal questions and inexplicable propensity to break out and dance to the Black-Eyed Peas.

It's you that keeps me here, I think. Or more specifically, your music. I'm browsing through my music collection, compiling an extensive playlist for my colleague. What contemporary artistes does one recommend to somebody who only listens to 80s music because mainstream pop has become too cookie-cutter same? I'll bet you would know. I'll bet you're like Rob Fleming in Nick Hornby's High Fidelity and come up with a "5 Best" song list for me. (And I'll also bet you have no idea who Nick Hornby is either!)

Anyway, so I'm going through hours worth of music when your song starts playing. Well, you didn't write it, and for all I know you might not even like it. But I think of it as "your" song, because that was the only song I listened to the summer you went away. Even now, just hearing the plaintive voice of the singer brings me right back to those months.

Meyy5, I like your entries here. Are they parts ofyour story or of diary entries?

they feel very personal and real.

nice to meet you

Hi Wendy, thanks for your comment! They're not really diary entries, but they are culled from my experience. I'm trying to push it beyond what really happened and see if I can actually write a story. hehe... I don't really have a plot yet though :p

Wendy wrote: "Meyy5, I like your entries here. Are they parts ofyour story or of diary entries?

they feel very personal and real.

nice to meet you
"

Well you certainly have the knack for putting a lot of feeling into a small amount of words. Keep plugging away and you'll go far.

Just one song, and it is as if I am crumbling again because you'll be leaving tomorrow, even though tomorrow is already five years past.

Now John, I don't have a song for him or us yet. 1,517 songs on my iTunes, and nothing yet for him. That aside, he's like you in some ways - he doesn't read. Some days, (actually a lot of days), he tells me about what goes on in the office, how everybody is always running to him to solve the most minor problems like a malfunctioning AC, and how the boss's wife is always screaming at everyone. I can't remember all the details, because most times I'm either spacing out, or wishing that he'll tell me about something cool he read about today. But it's okay, he's a good man, and he listens to me complain about my lousy pay and long hours.

He's a good one, really. Last week, he told me he started reading a book I left at his place the last time I stayed over, and I started getting worried. I know it's going to be messy again.

It was New Year's eve, and the fireworks were brilliant to start off with, although the smoke obscured most of it halfway through. There was a guy standing in front of us, intoxicated by the looks of it. He threw his beer bottle on the concrete steps, shattering it. Then he grabbed this girl around her waist and kissed her under the umbrella she was holding.

I felt so incredibly sorry for him. She could have been his girlfriend, and yet he seemed terribly lonely, as separated from her as I was from John, even though we were standing under one umbrella and his arms were encircling me from behind.

"Happy New Year, sweet," he whispered in my ear, "This year is going to be great, I can feel it."

I don't want to hurt him, I really don't.

Thank you for the encouragement, Wendy! :)

Wendy wrote: "Well you certainly have the knack for putting a lot of feeling into a small amount of words. Keep plugging away and you'll go far."

Something from our conversation must have gotten through to him, in spite of the messages within messages we kept offering each other. The seeds of doubt have been planted, evidenced by his hesitant blog entries.

There is a dull ache in my heart that I first mistook possibly for latent feelings for John. Surely I have some affection for him if it's hurting me to let him go? But upon further reflection, probably not. I know what it really is. I cannot fall in love and that saddens me.

It is a devastating thing to know the existence of love, to see it everywhere around you and despair at the fact that you are absolutely incapable of feeling it for another person. Ever.

Meyy5,

This is a heart-wrenching story. Keep it going. You have readers.

Jeanne

This writing is really great... keep it up! And good luck in all aspects of life in 2010

This inability (or perhaps more accurately, disability) is probably the only characteristic I've inherited from Mom - every other aspect of me, from my big feet to my social awkwardness, I got from Papa.

Papa adores Mom and it is still obvious after almost five decades of being married to each other. He laughs sheepishly when she nags, kisses her when she pouts, and teases her about her almost complete unfamiliarity with computers and the Internet. To Papa, Mom is the most beautiful woman, the only woman.

Mom is devoted to Papa too in all the years of their marriage, watching out for his health, being his constant ally during the dark days of his accident and subsequent depression, and working hard to make a home for Papa and us. But I've always sensed an aloofness in Mom's feelings for Papa. Sure, she respects and honors him, and certainly loves him in a sense, but I've always wondered - did she fall head over heels in love with Papa during their courtship? Was she crazy for him, or did she "settle" for a dependable family man? Somehow with Mom, I couldn't really wonder if she thought Papa was the one, because it's hard to believe that Mom even believes in concepts like that.

It's hard to believe because I don't think I believe in it. Falling in love is just too alien an emotion, and the thought that one person could be everything to another - that's just impossible.

I wish I could feel the same way for John as he obviously does for me, but the burden of being his one... no, it's too much to ask for. He didn't take it very well. I thought I at least owed him a face-to-face explanation, but on hindsight, it was a bad idea. I wish I felt sorry for him, but all I felt was relief that I was free again.

Thanks Jeanne, and TOLI! I'm afraid I've written myself into a corner! Am trying to turn around.

TOLI wrote: "This writing is really great... keep it up! And good luck in all aspects of life in 2010"

OML, I've just realized I should have been posting my writing at "my writing" section...In future, please refer to http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/5...

Word count as of today: 1,090. (Wow, writing a little a day really adds up..)

Thanks for the support! :)

Nah, you haven't written yourself into a corner. When you wake up in the morning, you'll probably have the next part ready to go!

Hi Meyy5! Nice writing goals. :] I really like the excerpts you have posted here – keep it up! ;D

Ill check out the writing there!