One more time I see the muthafucking phrase "the water sparkled/ shimmered / glistened like thousands of diamonds." I shall go on a rampage and violently stab the author with raw diamonds, and smilingly tell him/her, "Your blood sparkles like a million rubies / the excretement of a crow"

Of all jewels in God's good, green, somewhat muddy earth, WHY ON THE FUCKING EARTH DOES IT HAVE TO BE DIAMONDS? Why not pearls? Swarovski crystals? Sterling silver? Nooo...of all jewels it must be plain, old, boring diamond.

When I get married in the future I shall ask my fiance to give me a sapphire ring.

P.S. Add on the the list of words I hate:

Sparkle
chagrin
ochre
diamonds

Fucking bitches shouldn't read Twilight. ARGHHH TWILIGHT AND SEC ONE BRATS, YOU SPOILED THESE WORDS FOR ME! THOU ART DIABOLICAL! THOU ART HENIOUS BEAST, CANKERWORM!

P.S. What the fuck is with the phrase 'stared hard'? All the sec one twits seem to like using it.

I think I may have a masochistic streak.

*watches as imaginary audience gasps in horror*

Yeah. Somehow I enjoy diliberately reopening old wounds and reading scathing criticisms on my fanfiction (irregardless of the fact that I had long outgrown fanfiction, bad poetry and now have launched into full-out purple prose). Reading a particularly vicious comment somehow just pissed me off again because I noticed the author had not even given me any concrit regarding my writing.

Here's the review:
"
"Am a first timer."

Oh yes, this is so professional. Normally I would read someone saying, "I am a first timer."

You made me laugh honestly by saying "go by the excuse that this is your 'first fanfic'" yet you said that you have read all my stories? I doubt that my the way because I place my stories on about three websites, some have other stories that the others do not carry.

What humored me and my friend was that your little review was nearly just as long compared to the only fan fiction you have done on this website.

I hope the review was professional enough for you."

Now I suppose it was my fault in the first place because of m grammar nazi-ness, leading me to comment rather scathingly on her writing style and ploit development, as well as characterization. I was in secondary onewhen I wrote that awful piece of drivel, and in sec 2 when I gave the scathing review.

Yes, I was perfectly aware my reivew is longer than my story. Oh hardy har har, the irony neophyte writers use to soothe their nascent egos. But isn't that the whole poinbt of review? To give concrit and comment on things like flow, metaphors, style and etc.? I don't want some shitass comment about "aw." or "so cute" or "it's very well-written" -- well, it's flattering, but it doesn't help me.

Egoistic bitches like the above certainly have an ego that precedes their intelligence.

And yes, I am aware that this is an argument fallacy because I am basing this on my opinion. Her spirit "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth" really rankles, especially since I reviewed her in hopes of getting her to improve. Geez, I read it and I bothered to comment. If you want empty, honey-glazed flattery, go and ask the twilight fangirls to read it. I'm interested in literature, not sexual fantasies written by a hormonal teenage girl who has no sense of diction or literary devices.

Did I mention that seeing typos still rankle me?

At first, I wanted to adopt another username to review her other stories -- she had improved over time, but I still saw a few errors here and there, but I decided that it was pointless wasting my breath on people who do not want to learn. It's like what Calpurnia said in Mockingbird, tht people will only learn if they want to, you can't force them to.

Meanwhile I'll save this for people who appreciate it, like my fellow CAPpers, who enjoy a good book and engage in all-out literature talks for hours.

It's not that I don't accept negative feedback. I am more than happy to receive any type of feedback, as long as you have a reason and suggestions fo rimprovement. If you simpoly insult me without any reference to my writing, then don't bother. I am aware I am not exactly the epitome of maturity-- I am still learning, still trying to be better.

However, I am extremely happy to have found a home in DeviantArt, which is loads better than fanfiction. I have journeyed on and never looked back. I am now a mentored participant, with my own portfolio, learning under a published writer and teaching others how to write. I know it's extremely childish of me to throw one last jibe back at that scorned writer, but I can't resist.

To YOU (yes, you know who you are, emo-shukun)

I am now living a life that brings me more satisfaction that one anonymous writer who has no talent whatsoever, sitting behind a computer screen using others' characters for choppy stories with poor characterisation. I have journeyed beyond this notebook drivel of fanfiction and never once looked back. While you indulge in yoru wet dreams with anime characters and are gloriously proud of your achievements in beign published online, I will be published in a book next year. So now, who's more qualified? Who's more 'professional', so as to speak? While I leave my imprint as a young talent on Singapore's shores and get scholarships, you are still there, where you begun: a Nobody. I, as a writer, sincerely wish you better luck in your writing.

P.S. consider getting your characters right. What humoured me was that you seem to think a mother purposely messing up her son's bedroom and behaving as if she is bipolar is the epitome of maturity.

Let us celebrate the one day hotmail didn't fuck up! I managed to view the 'family portrait' of my CAP mentorship group.

Is my posture THAT bad? Goodness gracious me, I must really learn to sit up straight! The uniform looks as if it's too big for me-- the sleeves are touching my elbow. And I look FLAT. You know what I mean, girls.

I need to get more sleep -- the dark circles and eyebags are extremely unsightly.

My expression was more of a grimance than a smile...My expression was 'Goddamnit, when will this stupid hoto be taken? I want to sleep NOW!'

If you don't believe me, lemme try and upload it:

Okay. The one day hotmail didn't fuck up is also the very day Blogger fucks up,

Well, you can't have best of both worlds, as I have been told.

I need sleep.

today, your forgotten painting hangs proudly on the corner, always tilted more to the left than the right. it wasn't much: just a table of fruits and a vase of plants.

i asked who painted them, and you nonchalantly replied it was by you.

where are your painbrushes?

"Oh, I threw them away after I started work," you said.

the only painting you do now is on your aging canvas, drawn and re-drawn to perfection everyday. but makeup doesn't stay on like the watercolours do once upon a youth.

-

yesterday you asked me the difference between a h and a 2b pencil.

i said, you are the artist, shouldn't you know?

you said, i gave everything back to the teachers after i graduated from nanyang arts academy. i can't paint now, not now, never now. perhaps later, you'll say and smile as though trying to recall something, an erased harried-sketch between lectures perhaps, or the smudged ink printed at the recesses on your mind.

so what's the difference between a 2b and a 6b pencil, you ask.

i can't reply. somehow i knew, in the midst of stiff formal print and tax invoices, you had long forgotten the sharp flick of the rish when tracing the spike of the durian, the smell of paint and the swift, feather carress of pencil on paper. you no longer look nor admire how pencil traces the paper; you are more interested in what it can do, what it says. then you are off, away in the flood of telephone calls and office meetings.

i look at framed photographs of a past and -


-----------------------

True story.

I really do know an artist who has forgotten the difference between a 2b pencil and a 6b pencil. While this may seem trivial to you, well, it is the equivalent of a scientist asking you the difference between an electron microscope and a normal one.

These are our tools, our escape from life, our layout of ourselves, our way to forget and remember things, and to breathe life into our imaginations. To forget something like this is indeed a painful thing. Painful to watch, that is.

I hope I will never be like that person, but you know what they say, never say never. Someday I will look back on the works I did and quietly admire my genius, because I had forgotten how to write.

I'm afraid of that day coming. But I know, it is imminent. It would be a very great shock, certainly, as writing is now not only an art form, but an integral part of my life. Taking it away is the equivalent of pulling off my tongue or depriving me of one of my senses. It is infinitely precious, and I will do anything to protect it.

It's been one year ever since I've used email services (yeah yeah I'm a dinosaur living under a rock) and reading back on some that I've sent out to friends, all that came to mind was this:

Was I that annoying?

God, I annoy myself. The irony.