Ah. I feel so damn tired today, despite doing nothing but having to read publicly my poem.

I see a few arched eyebrows...in my imagination, because I know now one reads this defunct blog anyway save Chin Yee, so HI CHIN YEE! *Waves madly*

Yes, people, Chanel is proud to announce that she was taken back into the reading list at Singapore Writer's Festival! They decided to give me another chance cos their first email went into the 'Junk' folder!

I never thought I would say this, considering how many times it screwed up on me and refused to let me open my attachments, but I LOVE YOU, WINDOWS HOTMAIL, even if I end up utilizing my non-exhaustive expletive vocabulary on you when you screw up (:

It was super exciting and fun. I was a little apprehensive at first, mainly because a) the poem was a complete accident b) I still think it is terrible c) I'm a bad public speaker, and I tend to be too soft, even with a microphone and finally d) I had no idea what to wear to this type of occasion? Smart casual? Well, pyjamas and my finest Victoria Secret (not that I have any) are definitely ruled out.

Anyway, I settled on a one-piece hoodie thing with a miniskirt and black Japanese thigh-high socks and my loyal boots. Chanel is going to kick some ass! Just to be safe, I made sure to print out my poem in EXTRA LARGE FONT, because I tend to skip over words when nervous. Happens in Chinese oral examinations too.

It was frigging awesome because the Arts House (where the festival was located), and the Chamber (where my reading and the Merlion debate was to be held) is actually the old parliament house. I got to sit on the seat of the then-authority for Nation Development, right beside Lee Kuan Yew? Is that not awesome? I'm sitting right beside the exact place Lee Kuan Yew sat in ancient Parliament debates and goodness knows what they do inside that old but magnificent room...

They had two chalendiers, for prudence's sake! A FRIGGING HUGE CHALENDIER SUSPENDED FROM THE HIGH CEILING!

I, being a lover of elizabethean-era furniture and other rococo-era stuff, eyed at it avariciously for a while. Anyway, the seats on my side (where I sat together with 8 other readers, I was the youngest there) all had these weird dial thingies on them. I suppose it must've been some sort of translation device, because there were pointers, each labelled 'English', 'Malay' and 'Chinese'. Of course, my overactive imagination charitably conjectured that these might be electric chairs. I indulged in this fantasy for a moment, imagining several bloody scenes with aqua blue static and certain teachers' faces twiste in pain, before I dismissed it.

Because I was a contributor, I received two copies of the anthology for my trouble. Being young and hopelessly naive, I must say I felt a huge sense of accomplishment because this was my first time getting published. To see my name and my work in the book gave me satisfaction.

Those who doubted me, EAT YOUR HEART OUT. I am officially a poet!

*prances around in lalaland*

I was nervous when it came to my turn to read, but the people sitting beside me were real nice about it, complimenting my poem. Still I doubt it is an actual compliment to my writing ability and my skill, as opposed to a white lie to get me to work harder and be spurred on to improve. Well, nevertheless, it did work.

Xinyi (not the one from CCHMS 3RP, but my best friend) came over to support me (well, okay, I did ask her to come over after all). For once, someone finally agreed that the retarded merlion poem I did was substandard. Except that these were the exact words she said. She merely said that "Yes, I agree, this is not your best work so far."

I knew I was best friends with her for a reason.

The debate that ensued after the readings were done was hilarious, and not like the seriousness and boring legal jargon that I had expected. The motion for the debate already provokes much potential for humour: The merlion is maligned. Somehow the proposition deemed it fit to call themselves the 'Government'. Anyway, my point is, the clash between the two houses were comical. What struck me as most memorable were discussions on certain anatomical parts of the Merlion ("It has pores and hair...just invisible to the human eye" and "The merlion is an accurate symbol for Singaporeans. Big hair, big mouth and no balls.") Then somehow it has lead to spectaculations about what actually gave birth to such a freak of nature -- that a lion and a mermaid, caught in a situation with no condoms and nowhere visible to put them on, ended up in a merlion.

Darn. I wasn't so intellectually stimulated or entertained in such a while. I came away with better pronunciation. Sadly this lasted until I took my shower after dinner, and I am relegated to a Singaporean accent right now.

By the way, the book was absolutely hideous. I heard one of the poets there comment that it looked like some sort of street directory, with the plain photograph and white words. Me thinks that it is more suitable as a postcard. No wonder Singaporean literature is not very popular with mainstream culture: I think that the boring, dull and sometimes bad-till-your-eyes-bleed designing of cover pages just don't appeal to anyone save nerds with nothing better to do. Sure, it's meaningful and all, but it's not pretty, and if it's not pretty, it won't attract audiences. The thing with Singaporean publishers is that their book covers tend to be extremely unattractive (from the viewpoint of a easily distracted teen with a short attention span, A.K.A. me), and thus I would be disinclined to pick them up. Heck, I've never heard of Singaporean writers till last year, where I consente dto read a book by Catherine Lim, but didn't really like her writing style.

Perhaps, instead of pop art and photographs that would look better in an issue of Forbes, Business Times or even Reader's Digest, maybe a plainer close up of an object with a plain, one-colour background is suitable. Look at the Shopaholic series and (dare I say it?) Twilight series. Even if the writing is deplorable, at least one thing they've gotten right is the advertising. Too much detail on a photo is unappealing, period.

I am really exhausted now. Been hooked to 'Fireflies' by Owl City lately, even if I do abhor flies. I am still scarred from my experience at Kota Tinggi, the huge mass of winged, buzzing objects who made it their sole mission in life to bug the hell out of us (notice the pun?).