More of the Same Rant

I know I preach tolerance and this might come across as extremely hypocritical, but I feel it is something that needs to be said and acknowledged, and that is I hate it when people claim that the world or a country is in decline because of a lack of Christianity –or any other religion, for that matter– and that the best way to revive a society is by having everyone follow this one “superior” religion. I know I said people shouldn’t judge, and I probably should probably take a step back and follow what I preach, but I can’t help but judge people who say those things as narrow-minded. I need to make a few points.

1. Irreligious people are not immoral and completely without virtue. Many of them are very decent people, perhaps kinder and more generous than some religious people.
2. Religion is not God’s word. Religion is human interpretation of God, and there is room for error. Thus each religion has its good points and bad points, and there is no one superior religion which everyone should follow.
3. Difference in religion equals diversity. The only problem is that people refuse to accept difference. If we can learn to accept others for what they are and not try to convert them to our religion and our way of worship, then there is no reason why we can’t all get along.
4. Faith is something which one comprehends with the heart, and not the mind. It cannot be determined by our logic because human logic is too flawed.
5. The truth is out there, but human beings don’t have it. Same reason as that which was stated above.

Beyond Belief

I have just come back from work. It isn’t particularly rigorous work. I don’t stand on my feet all day. I don’t lift heavy things. I don’t have to smile at customers perpetually even when they’re being jerks. In fact, I’m allowed to lecture my clients, or rather, students, although I don’t like to.

However, there comes to a point when I can’t help but wonder how I’m going to continue with this weekly job of educating people. I’m a tutor. That was what was put on the advertisement. An English tutor, specifically, which means I’m supposed to supplement what is being taught to these children at school, not do the teachers’ jobs. I’m not qualified to do that, and I don’t know if I have the patience. I’ve been doing this job for eight months, and today I discovered that all my attempts to explain more complicated ideas have been in vain, because these kids are so innocent and naive that they looked at me blankly when I mentioned Hitler and Stalin. And they are nine and eleven.

I would have thought that all children knew something about WWII by that age. It was so significant in the shaping of our society, and it was a huge thing for New Zealand and Europe. I don’t know how to even start explaining it in a manner which young children would understand. I know about the annexations, how Czechoslovakia was taken, but these things are all too complicated for children of that age who don’t even know what Nazis are, and their mother wants the oldest one to be able to do well in a scholarship exam with a general knowledge section. I have no idea where to begin; I’m a tutor, not a miracle worker.

Judging Books by their Covers

Remember how your parents used to tell you that you can’t judge books by their covers or people by their appearances? (Well, I hope your parents did.) Unfortunately, although we know not to judge things by the way they look, we still do.

I am one of the most unremarkable looking girls around. Everything about me is pretty average. I’m not slim, I’m not tall, I’m not pretty. My eyes are well hidden by glasses, and last year, I didn’t have the best fashion sense. It was jeans, sweatshirt, sneakers, and maybe a dull coat for when it was very cold. Make up didn’t even feature in my daily routine. People treated me as if I was invisible. I had to walk around them, or they would walk straight into me.

I had a makeover at the beginning of this year, and the change was remarkable. I wear high-heels now( whether they be boots, cut out booties, peep-toes, or just traditional black pumps), and eyeliner, eyeshadow and mascara–that is so I don’t look like a hungover version of my mother. My clothes are coordinated, feminine, and classy; I actually have skirts and dresses in my wardrobe now, and no more polar fleece, except for those days when I can just hang out at home and not see anyone outside of my family. I wear perfume, and I have remembered that I pierced my ears for a reason. The change in the way people treat me has been phenomenal. They now walk around me–and I’m not even about to barge into them. They hold open doors for me. All in all, they take me a lot more seriously, and they respect me. I had expected a little change following the makeover, but that much was just surprising. Maybe even I take myself more seriously now that I look the part. I certainly feel more confident in a pair of high-heels–the sway and the rhythm feels good.

So what does all of that say about our society? I’m afraid it’s not good news. We are shallow people, in other words. Material wealth and sophistication impresses us, despite the fact that we know we shouldn’t. We are always judging others based on our first impression of them, and more often than not, it is a first visual impression. There might be a few people who don’t do this, but they are a minority. In general, we do judge books by their covers.

So, if you want people to respect you and take you seriously, the first thing to do is to look the part. It could be just improving your posture, or you could have a full-blown makeover the way I did. Just a little change goes a long way.

First Week of University–A Summary

Yeah, I’ve had my first week, and it’s run me ragged, not because of the work load (even if I have to catch up with the reading because I’ve been too busy watching Gossip Girl today), but  because I was not fully enrolled until the second day. It just really annoyed me, because I hate having unfinished business.

And one hour in class just isn’t very good for socializing, you know? One of my goals this year is to meet more new people, and it’s sort of difficult for me, because, let’s face it, I’m shy. I’m the type of person who cannot start a decent conversation in real life. I have no problem with typing conversations, or long drawn out monologues, but I guess muses don’t work when it comes to spontaneous exchange without text. I did meet someone when I went to do my placement test for my Chinese course, but I haven’t seen him since.

Well, let’s make a correction to the above paragraph. I am getting to know some people in my classes. History is much too interesting for socializing during class. I love that class, even if  I do have to write a three thousand word essay for it. It shouldn’t daunt me. I’m the girl who can happily write seven thousand words of fanfiction a week. (Not quite, but I did reach that number this week, although it included a snarky reply to the person who sent me that second illiterate flame.) However, academic writing and creative writing are as different as men and women–interpret that any way you will. Then again, the head of History seemed to like my subtle sarcasm that I used for some essays last year. Perhaps I should try that again.

Yeah, I’m procrastinating right now. It’s easy to tell, isn’t it? Having nothing to say, I speak interminably, or rather, write interminably. That’s paraphrased from some guy writing about humanists during the Renaissance. The lecturer mentioned it during class the other day.

So, back to my week. It was dull, pretty much. I had some nice outfits, but considering this is not my fashion blog, I won’t mention them here. You might find some detailed descriptions on Style of Mine when I actually get around to posting there. I want to take photos of my outfits, but I really can’t be bothered posing or going off to get the camera. I’m so lazy, but you’ve probably realized that by now. I have a Chinese oral assignment. The topic is so boring that I am running out of things to say. Just what can you say when you’re greeting a total stranger at the airport? And no, I can’t be sarcastic and silly in my usual creative way, because this is Business Chinese, so it’s formal. Unless, of course, I make up a back story about the journalist and the businessmen she’s meeting. Not sure whether my partner will agree to that. Most people don’t get my sense of humour. I’m still not sure whether it’s my fault or theirs.

I did go shopping on Friday. It’s a highly unhealthy activity for the wallet. I bought scarves, a black, gloves, and my first ever pair of skinny jeans.  Seems like I’m all set for winter. Now, if only I can find some decent cold-weather day dresses…

Tel Goes A-Camping

Sorry, I seem to have gone missing recently; I haven’t, really. I’ve just been preoccupied, and distracted…all right, enough excuses.

So, last Monday, as in 2 February, I went off to a medieval themed camp with my friend. We were going ‘tenting’ (not sure if that’s actually a real word, but it was what living in a tent was called, at least to us Kiwis). The first day, it was overcast, and rather cool. I’d set out in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. When I got there, I had to pull out my orange ‘Mickey and Friends’ sweatshirt from the bottom of my backpack, because it was just awfully cold. Yep, very medieval, Tel. My friend G and I spent some time walking around the campsite and looking for a place to set up our tent. Most of the good places seemed to be gone, but we did manage to find a relatively flat spot close to a horse paddock and next to a tree. After clearing the ground of rocks and pinecones, and me pulling a muscle while trying to lug around too many bags in one go, we began to set up the tent. G informed me that she was very proud of herself for bringing a hammer. Then she realized that she should have brought two, because I ended up hammering pegs into the ground with a rock. Luckily, our neighbours lent us a hammer, and all was well.

While we were setting up our very modern tent, our neighbours in hose and tunics were polishing their swords and armour in preparation for the tournament the next day. It was very surreal. Of course, it felt more like a film set than an actual medieval town, and it wouldn’t even be Sir Ridley Scott’s film set. I mean, you wouldn’t expect to find such a large array of costumes anywhere outside of Hollywood. Things ranged from sixth century tunic dresses to feathered hats which bordered on the Italian Renaissance. And it was all insanely colourful. I’m talking about neon colours (almost).  Vegas meets Monty Python, possibly not in a good way.

Happy Lunar New Year

Well, today I celebrate New Year, mainly because I did things which were more suitable for such a festival (i.e. clearing out my wardrobe so that it no longer looks like a war-zone). All right, so I slept till three in the afternoon. I’m still a teenager; I’m entitled to be nocturnal, aren’t I?

On another note, I’ve had a rather ditzy week, preparing for camp and then realizing that it wasn’t this week, but next week! Holidays create ditzes, or so I feel. And when February comes, I’ll have been on holiday for two and a half months. That’s a long time of not doing anything.

Writer’s block has got me bad. I can’t seem to write a single thing unless it’s blog-ish in style and very very modern. It’s not exactly auspicious for a person who’s attempting to write a historical novel set in the twelfth century. Last week, I just didn’t bother, and took a really big break. I should restart later tonight, and just churn out some paragraphs, no matter how bad. I can always delete and rewrite them later. That’s the beauty of writing on a computer instead of paper. Editing becomes a lot less messy.

So, lately, I’ve become interested in fashion, of all things. Not that I think it’s a bad thing, because shopping is so much fun. I bought so many dresses and skirts, and a few jackets. I now realize that I almost have more dresses/skirts than pants. Perhaps I’m becoming more feminine. Just last week, I bought two more dresses–winter ones. The first one is red, with a slight A-line skirt, textured cotton weave and a roll neck. That was NZ$30. The second one is a turtleneck grey jersey dress with charcoal bamboo print on a lighter grey background, and an elasticized hem.. If it hadn’t been $10, I wouldn’t have bought it, but it was such a bargain that I couldn’t resist. Worn with a wide belt, black tights, and perhaps short boots or kitten heels, it would look pretty neat. I didn’t buy any pants (although I had been tempted by a rack of skinny jeans. I’ve never worn a pear before.) I have a lot of pants already (four pairs of jeans, two pairs of dress pants –black and brown–, a pair of thick army green pants, another pair of not very dressy black pants in a material which I can’t name, a pair of khaki pants, two pairs of –newly bought– black trackpants), even if most of them are for the winter, and some others don’t fit.

That’s why I cleaned up my wardrobe. You still can’t see the floor, but at least the stacks of clothing are not falling over and creating mountains. As I was cleaning out my clothes, I came to realize that my wardrobe has the stupidest design. Some of the shelves are hidden behind walls, and others are hidden behind the hanging clothes. It’s awfully dark, and I have to navigate through it with a torch. Most of my clothes I have forgotten about because they are always in the shadows, and I can’t see them. Going into my wardrobe is like venturing into a pyramid. You expect treasures, but you also expect traps and unpleasant things to leap out at you.

Current clothes: blue jeans with patches on the knees, white t-shirt with patterns on the neck. (I’m allowed to be boring once in a while.)

Angel

Disclaimer: I don’t own Kingdom of Heaven. It belongs to Sir Ridley Scott and William Monahan.

Heaven and Earth; the only difference is the relations between one person and another. In Heaven, no hate exists. It is foreign. I do not claim to know everything that there is to know about Heaven, nor do I know everything worth knowing about Earth. I just know more than most of you.

 

I have existed in both realms. I have seen the peace of Heaven and the bloodshed on Earth. I have seen men create paradise on Earth, and I have seen other men turn that paradise into Hell. Time passes, but human nature does not change.

 

I was sent down from Heaven with a mission.

 

No, I am not the Messiah, nor have I ever claimed to be.

 

As I have said, I was sent down to do God’s work, and my task was to give guidance to one who bore the mark of God; the problem was that he did not know it.

 

Men are strange creatures. The Truth is right before their eyes, in all its different incarnations, but most of the time, they are oblivious to it. They seem to like to convolute the simplest of things, warping God’s will with man-made rules and dogmas. There are those who believe they are doing God’s work by sticking strictly to their dogmas, when in actual fact, they go against His decrees when they discriminate against those who do not believe in their rules. They claim to love God and obey His commands when they preach hatred against their fellow men. Mankind has a way of distinguishing between one another using the smallest of differences, even though they have more similarities. They seek to exaggerate those differences. Perhaps it is in their nature to want to find others who are exactly the same. I do not completely understand it, and I do not think that I ever will. It is a funny business. Amongst them, it is easy to hide, for they cannot see anything that they do not believe, and no one believes that angels walk with men.

Change of Plan

In Mid-December, I received a letter from my university saying that I had failed to get into the course I applied for (Bachelor of Speech and Language Therapy). Now, if you expect that I was disappointed, then you are right, to some degree. However, once I got over my initial disappointment, I was actually very relieved. I no longer had to sit and try and be devoted to something I was interested in, but had no passion for. My time was no longer monopolized by this degree, and moreover, I was free to do what I really wanted to do, which, as most of you know, is to make a living from my writing. Before, I yearned to do writing, and yet I felt that I needed to devote my time to Speech and Language Therapy training.

And you know what the best thing about it was? This great dilemma in my life was solved, not through my own volition, as it were, but seemingly through divine intervention. It was as if someone up there had said, “You silly girl. Why are you doing this degree? You know it won’t make you happy. Here, do this instead.” It seemed that life always had a way of straightening itself out. Now I’m actually very happy about failing to get into that course, and I realize that what seems like failure might actually be a success. I failed to achieve my goal, but now I’m about to realize my dreams.

“Mind your own business.”

I heard that a lot as a child. Whenever I showed any interest in the dinner conversation my parents were having, more often than not, I would be told to mind my own business and stop being such a busybody. I’m sure I’m not the only one. For me, being told this numerous times had a profound effect; I got the idea that asking questions about the world only got quick sharp reprimands which made me want to cry. By and by, I learnt not to ask questions about conversations which were deemed ‘adult’. I told myself that it wasn’t my business and that I shouldn’t be interested in the first place, and eventually I became convinced that it was true. That was the beginning of my detachment from my parents, especially my father.

I’m back.

Well, it’s been ages since I’ve last posted everything. I’ve been lost in a sea of academic confusion and obligations. However, the semester is over, and in a week or so, I’ll be getting ready for exams. So, all in all, not much time for writing, but I get by with about an hour every day.

I can’ believe the year has gone so quickly, actually. In the month or so which I’ve been missing (from this blog, at least), so much has happened. I discovered that I’m not as bad an essay writer as I’ve first thought, and my original work is taking shape. Of course, most of it has not been written, but at least I have an idea as to what I’m going to write about. There’s still a lot of research which needs doing. Apart from the Kingdom of Jerusalem (which is where I’m setting my story), I have to know something about what was happening in Europe during the second half of the twelfth century, and I also need to know what’s happening in the Byzantine empire. It’s a pity that most of the Byzantine records were destroyed by the Ottoman Turks. I suppose the ancients did like destroying things as much as they liked building them.

Sporking is still going on, but I’ve given up on Mockfiction; there’s a much better site, made by my friend. Mostly we just chat, and I haven’t done sporking for an age. Too busy, and then there’s writer’s block. I’ve just overcome one of the worst bouts I’ve ever had. I couldn’t even write fanfiction, and usually, that’s one of the easiest things for me to write. Luckily I still managed to produce some chapters, but the quality, I feel, is a bit dubious. Still, my readers seem to like them well enough, so I guess that’s all right.

It’s supposed to be spring in my country now. Late spring, to be exact. The wind’s still chilly, and one simply cannot enjoy a book outdoors because shivering is a rather distracting activity. Maybe a month from now, I’ll be able to do that. Thing is, I won’t need to study anything after November. I’m free for three months. Then again, maybe I’ll need to do a lot of studying for my novel.

Well, that was rather rambly. Mind you, I’ve been in a rather rambly mood for weeks. I think I’ll get on with another fanfic which I’m working on right now. I haven’t updated that one in weeks.

Academic subcultures = pure annoyance

I haven’t been updating this blog, and you might think I have abandoned it. I haven’t; it’s just that the workload of late has been rather problematic. Technically, it shouldn’t be a lot. I have two essays of two thousand words each, and a report of a thousand words. I can type an average of one thousand words per hour, and I do that every morning. The problem is the style. Officially, I hate academic subcultures and their specific writing styles. I hate them so much that I never wish to use them again. Why is it no possible to write something which is sensible, and at the same time, entertaining? I’m more Monty Python than Shakespeare, and even Shakespeare’s language is more colourful than the dry-as-firewood academic style which I’m being forced to use. I want to use slang, contractions, perhaps add a ’savvy’ every now and then. It’s all good fun, and I’m perfectly understandable. Why else would people online read my stuff? It’s not sophisticated at all; I find joy in writing about blowing up cathedrals in Rome. That is not high class literature. Indeed, some would say it isn’t literature at all; basically, it’s entertaining nonsense.

I have a week before the first of my essays and my psychological report are due in. I’m living day by day, not thinking about the future because I don’t want to consider the fact that I might not be able to produce my essay and report in time. I’m also lamenting the fact that I have to be stuck indoors writing boring stuff when I can be outside, just watching the world go by, and perhaps writing interesting stuff. There are a lot of ideas in my head. The more work I have, the more plotbunnies generate. They hop around inside my mind, nagging me until I put them down on a page, whether it is a blank word document or a piece of paper. Preferably a blank word document; I am fond of the backspace key.

Spring has come at last, but this is when the workload is getting most intense. After my essays, I have exams, and then perhaps I’m free. But until then, I am a slave to academia. Why do I even bother? I don’t particularly care for qualifications. As long as I get into my courses next year, I’m good with it. I have no desire to shine or be lifted above my peers because of my academic achievements. To shine because I write fun stuff is a good thing though; I want to be known as someone who can waffle on about absolutely nothing and still be entertaining.

I have typed a good deal, and all this time, I could have been and should have been working on my essay, but I am just so tired, and I have had enough of it. Perhaps this afternoon at home, but I feel no inclination to open my books, not that I have ever felt the inclination to open academic books. As predicted, novels are an entirely different matter. I have Sense and Sensibility lying beside my pillow at home. I’m actually reading Jane Austen, and to people who know me, the fact that I am reading classic romances is a sign that I’m really tired and sick of everything, and need a change. Perhaps a bout of writing about blowing up cathedrals might cure me.

Ten things I want for my birthday…

My birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks, and I thought I’d make up a list of ten (as yet non-existent) things which would make my life easier, or simply breezy. Just a little bit of silliness really.

1. An automatic essay writer–just plug in the information and it will produce a well crafted essay. Better yet, plug in the topic and connect it to your brain so it knows your point of view, and then produces the essay.
2. A real automatic car–Just tell it where you want to go, and it will take you there. You can sleep in the back seat and sleep.
3. A portal maker–Even better than the automatic car. Just say where you want to go, a door will open and you can just step in. Very eco-friendly as there is little to no fuel used.
4. Writer’s block medication–A pill which will get rid of the most enduring of writer’s blocks.
5. Automatic note taker–takes notes in class automatically and without needing any effort on the user’s part. Includes accurate diagram drawing mode.
6. Automatic computer doctor–a robot which can fix all computer problems; just tell it what’s going on and it will diagnose and get rid of anything which makes the computer malfunction.
7. Automatic cooker–Just throw in the foodstuffs, raw, unwashed and unsorted, and watch it produce a six course meal, complete with dessert and coffee.
8. Automatic cleaner–it just cleans, and does it the way you want it.
9. Music writer–All I have to do is plug myself in and it will write down any weird tunes/symphonies which I create inside my head but can’t reproduce manually on paper. Watch as the world becomes a society of Mozarts and Beethovens.
10. Automatic researcher–will read all boring textbooks for me and when I plug myself in, the information will be magically transferred into my head. Better yet, plug it into the essay writer and do no work other than just the plugging.

A Different Type of Discrimination

Right now, I should be getting dressed and eating breakfast instead of being on the computer. However, I don’t want to go offline yet, as I’m in the middle of a role-playing game. It’s funny how addictive the internet is. Perhaps I crave the companionship of people like me. Creative people are a rare breed. You only find one or two amongst hundreds (might be a slgith exaggeration there) and even amongst creative people, there are those who don’t know what you’re on about. I had a friend who was a brilliant writer; she won a prestigious national literary award when she was fifteen. However, she and I could never agree about what constituted as good literature. What I enjoyed put her to sleep and vice versa. She was more like the mainstream literary people in my country who preferred literature which reflected aspects of society. I was more of a person who wanted to write stories reminiscent of Hollywood blockbusters.

In my country, discrimination is rampant. However, there is one sort of discrimination which no one has addressed yet; genrism. It’s not an official sort of discrimination, but it’s what I call the descrimination against certain genres of literature. People who write historical or fantasy epics are said to be wasting their talents. These stories simply are not welcome in our literary circle. Everyone who is a ‘proper writer’ should be writing about serious real life. It puts people like me at a disadvantage because I don’t want to write about serious real life. I see enough of that; when I write, I want to escape to a fun and exciting place with people who I want to meet, not people who I see everyday.

Children are discouraged from writing fantasy in school. When I was sixteen, I was forbidden by the teacher to write anything set in history. She said I had to bring myself back to the ‘real world’ and write about an ordinary setting. To prove my point, I wrote about guerilla warfare in the streets of Baghdad. It took a heck of a lot of research about rocket-propelled grenades and machine guns and tanks, but I finally got there and even got to describe gore, something which I’m good at and fond of doing. I guess I have to thank that teacher actually, because she made me strive to prove that epics are just as valid as literature as all the boring gritty real life stuff which I wouldn’t touch with a barge pole. She made me really try to improve my writing, and to create good believable and likeable characters for my epics. Of course, I got into fanfiction and one can’t publish fanfiction, but I still managed to achieve something. Apart from the reviews, I got nominated for the MEFA awards, something which I am still surprised about.

In my opinion, far too many authors write for renown and not for fun. That is true of me to some extent, but what really brought this to my attention is my friend’s question. She said, “What’s the point of writing fanfiction? You don’t get any recognition for doing it.” I replied saying that I did it because I loved doing it, and it’s true. I also said that people get renown for writing good (or bad) fanfiction, just like in the world of printed literature. In the end, it isn’t recognition that I really want. I just want to prove to the world that writing epics is not a bad thing and end this discrimination against certain genres so that other really good works (such as the film Kingdom of Heaven) will be recognized for their brilliance. At the moment, some wonderful works of art are ignored just because they happen to be of the ‘wrong’ genre.