Goddess, I Am.

A couple of days ago, Chin wrote about why no one in their right mind should want to be a writer. I am inclined to agree. For one thing, I don’t know of a bigger drama queen than I am. For another, I do get a tad hoity-toity whenever I stumble upon somebody else’s bad writing. Does that make me arrogant? Not if I keep it to myself, and I usually do. And because I’m the only person in the world who actually knows the full extent of my arrogance, that makes it a moot point.

I also do my best to keep my writing trivial – unimportant, even. I steer clear from writing about politics and religion and even my thoughts on love and sex because volatile subjects like these tend to get the haters to come a’knocking. I should know; I’ve suffered enough bullshit on my now-defunct blogs of years past. And so it’s not for lack of opinions that I’m keeping this blog controversy-free, but more on the lack of time and energy to deal with crap. I can honestly think of a gazillion better things to do with my time.

I know some people would say that this conscious effort to avoid controversy defeats the whole point of being a writer. Writers are supposed to make waves and stir things up, not hide behind harmless essays about shoes. Well, that’s simply not the kind of writer I want to be. (And no, I’m not going to contemplate a career change as a Texas truck accident lawyer or something – I’m sticking to my guns.)

Now, for the past two years, I’ve been enjoying peace and quiet in this blog. After all, nobody would take offense over mundane posts of new gadgets and clothes, the occasional travel and family reports, and the odd movie review, right? Well, think again!

For the past 3 days, I’ve been getting hate comments from somebody in the NCR (with a Smart Broadband IP address, ha!) who seems to have taken serious umbrage at my review of the turd movie, In Your Eyes. I kid you not!

From what I can gather from her comments, at first she was pissed off that I wrote about Claudine Barreto’s rather strange body. Then she started really attacking me because I can write in good English! It’s a strange gripe, I know, but then, stranger things have happened.

At first, I was just going to delete her comments and let it go. But due to insistent public demand (haha), I am now posting them here – on this post – with my responses. Not that these even merit a response, but we could all use a good laugh, so why the hell not? (Click on the screenshots for larger versions if they’re too teeny to read!)

Sweetheart, Claudine is a celebrity. She’s used to this sort of thing. Hey, that’s what they’re there for! Do you want me to get started on Justin Bieber? Or Miley Cyrus? Or Bruce Willis? Good God, if Claudine ever read this post, she’ll probably just laugh about it.

And for the record, I never said Claudine was ugly. I happen to think she’s very pretty and she looks great . . . most of the time. But I also think her body in In Your Eyes was disturbingly unnatural. I am not one to let that pass.

“Masyadong bilib ka sa iyong sarili.” For my non-Filipino readers, she’s pretty much saying that I’m puffed up with my own self-importance. Naturally. As I’ve written in my sidebar, I truly am a great fan of myself. I work harder than anyone I know, I’m ambitious, and I’ve achieved a lot more than most people my age can say they have. So yes, I am proud of myself. BUT that is NOT something I go around telling people. Anyone who knows me would say that I’m actually quite self-deprecating (if you don’t know what that means, look it up!).

You’re saying that I’m hiding my face, that I’m probably ugly, blah blah blah. Well, if you’re going to spend so much time on my blog, look around. There are about 50 pictures scattered throughout this blog that clearly show my face – and most of them are not even flattering! I am not deluded enough to think that I’m gorgeous, so if you – or anybody, for that matter – think I am ugly, tough shit. The only opinions that matter to me are those of the people I hold dear. (And The Husband happens to think I’m pretty darned cute, ha!)

You’re also saying that despite my intelligent use of the English language, I am still uneducated. That’s a bit of a paradox, isn’t it? And let me ask you, do you think your incessant attack on myself and my blog is educated? I think we all know who’s better educated between the two of us.

She also posted this comment AGAIN today, September 2 at 10:15 AM. (Cue in Psycho theme)

Sweetheart, the statement “I don’t suffer stupidity” actually means I don’t suffer stupidity in other people, not myself. (Well, I’m suffering YOU right now, so you should be flattered.) Sheesh, you can’t even read English right!

You think I’m not funny? Fair enough. I write for myself, my friends, my family, and some of my most loyal readers, and they think I’m funny – maybe not always, but I do make people laugh sometimes. That really is enough for me.

No, I don’t expect everybody to accept me for who I am, and honestly? I really don’t care. As long as I’m accepted by the people I love, I’m a happy camper. I’m pragmatic enough to know that I won’t please everybody and that the whole world doesn’t revolve around me. But then again, you’ve been in and out of this blog 5 times (so far) in the past 3 days, so could it be that your world is revolving around me?

Thank you for saying that my English is “magaling” (good). And no, I did not go to a popular exclusive school. I went to Cebu Normal University, which, as everyone knows, is a public school – a selective state-run public school, yes, but a public school nonetheless.

And no, I doubt having a peach-shaped body can be classified as a weakness. I think it’s more of a temporary setback, especially for celebrities, which makes it quite funny. Now, if I were poking fun at, say, cerebral palsy or something sad like that, that would be another story. And that’s something I would never do.

Of course this post is biased! Do not forget that this is MY personal blog! People keep personal blogs to put their personal, usually biased opinions out there. I think that concept is completely lost on the likes of you.

So it bothers you that I write, speak, and act like a Westerner, even if I’m a Filipino living in the Philippines? Well, guess what? Last time I checked, it’s a free country. And it’s 2010 – the days of Maria Clara are gone. I’ve always had a liberal and rather Western upbringing because my mum is cool like that. I spoke English before I spoke Bisaya, or Tagalog. I’m married to a Brit. I’m worldly, and I love it! How about you? Do you still live in a cave?

Oh, and don’t talk to me about the hardships of life. I’ve had my share. You don’t know what I have lived through and endured in my lifetime. You think I’m pretentious? FYI, I am where I am now – debt-free, solvent, and able to enjoy a few luxuries here and there – because I work 16-hour days without complaint. Not many people can say the same – you, included. Otherwise, you won’t be squatting on my blog several times a day. Get a job, why doncha?

This is about as much attention as you’re ever going to get from me. Do you want to post more comments? By all means, go ahead. I will simply delete them. You are as irrelevant to me as the callouses on my feet, probably even more so.

So be gone, nonentity. You are not welcome here.

Confession time! I never really knew what was going on in the world unless I read about it on Facebook or Twitter, or if The Husband told me. I’m even worse with celebrity news. I know, I know. It’s the Internet age and news is everywhere, blah blah blah. However, I open so many browsers for work that opening a few more just to read the news really isn’t something I would go out of my way for.

That has changed since I got Agrippa. You see, there’s a very nifty (and free!) app called Flipboard that makes the news so much more accessible to me. I get my news (plus my Twitter and Facebook feeds) in a fancy magazine-like interface, and it makes browsing for news so much more pleasurable.

Honestly, I can’t believe how gossipy this app is making me. Flipping through content just to see who bombed what and who the wireless cctv cameras caught canoodling this time is now becoming an integral part of my day.

I am such a dork, I know.

I figured out a long time ago that I want to write for the rest of my life. And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. I earn a very good living out of it, too, so I really can’t complain.

But writing hundreds – if not, thousands – of online content for subjects you really do not care a thing about . . . well, it just gets to you. Every once in a while, I find myself wondering what the hell I’m doing writing about constipation (among others) when I ought to be writing a novel, or a memoir, or something that may very well win a Pulitzer (who knows?), or at least something that would reach out and touch people, bowel problems notwithstanding. Then I go through the whole litany of reasons why I’m settling for what I am doing, and I end up forcing myself to be grateful for the chance to even write at all and get paid for it to boot!

Still, this doesn’t stop me from wishing I was a more ‘serious’ writer. I would love to be respected, to be revered, to have a cult following. I would love to see my name in print, preferably under the words “#1 New York Times Bestseller.” It’s all fanciful thinking, I know. But does it really have to be?

Every day, I’m getting to know myself more. I’m starting to figure out what I want out of life beyond the next 6 months. And I’m starting to make the plans that would make me the person – and by extension, the writer – that I want to be.

First thing’s first – I need formal training in writing. I don’t have one, you know, not even a humble certificate from a writing workshop. I’d like to go back to school and get an MA in Creative Writing. And I’m not talking about an Online College, either. I’ve found that there are universities and colleges in London and the U.S. and Canada that would take on post-graduate students for their writing programs, even without a writing-related undergraduate degree. Of course, one will have to prove one’s aptitude in writing in a 5000-word essay to be considered, and even then, one will have to be prepared to spend thousands of dollars (or even pounds sterling!) to take the course. Unless, of course, one somehow lands a scholarship, which is already the most fanciful of all fanciful thinking.

Well, I don’t think I’ll be landing a scholarship anywhere anytime soon (or even ever), nor do I have thousands of dollars (or pounds) to spare. But I will write that 5000-word essay, anyway, in between constipation [articles]. Just in case.

- Posted using BlogPress on Agrippa, the iPad

I’ve decided that Polyvore is the bane of my existence. I’ve known of it for ages, but I have never really gotten around to using it until the fabulous Meream of Bored and Crafty asked me to contribute to her Book Style series. Two Thorn Birds-inspired concepts later, I was addicted. And the rest, as they say, is history. (Articles on Hinkley lighting and canker sores be damned!)

Now, for the longest time, my sister has been trying to get me to create my own vision board. She’s a huge believer of The Secret (I know, right?), and she thinks I’m hopeless enough to actually need a huge billboard-type thingy to remind me of the things that I want in my life. (She, of course, is content with chanting in the shower. But that’s beside the point.)

And so it was that I conceived this idea of using Polyvore as my personal vision board. (What an excuse to use it more often than I should, huh?) The thing I want most is to gallivant all over the world – Europe, especially – so why not plan what I’m going to wear as early as now? Never mind that little, old, practical me won’t be caught dead in 4-inch ankle boots on a trip to Paris packed with a gazillion activities, but, hey, a girl can dream, right?

So without further ado, this is me in Paris:

And Rome (I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to go in a toga):

And Venice:

And I’m definitely not done yet! I made an entire collection out of this concept, so I daresay I’ll be Polyvore-ing more ‘travel’ outfits in the days to come. Man, oh man, what did I just get myself into?

Oh, and if you want to see the Book Style I made for Meream, you can find it here. I just love The Thorn Birds!

And no, The Husband is NOT a priest. Though he probably would’ve made a damned good one, in my opinion, because he certainly can preach! But don’t tell him I said that!

I’m busy. And tired. And sleep-deprived. And if those aren’t bad enough, it actually shows.

Look at me! I have eye bags the size of binoculars. I look like a freakin’ panda, but not in any way that is cute, cuddly, and (thankfully) furry.

On a concrete cement slab in Arano’s

But at least, I have ridiculously cool boots. I swear, I can’t get enough of ‘em. (At least, until I get these navy babies.) They’re literally giving me that extra spring in my step that I really need right now. It’s amazing how a good pair of shoes can make me happy like that.

Oh, and do give us some love at Sistahs Stylistahs.