Would Write - Closet writing

In terms of writing, i have recently promoted myself. I was filling up a form for something and they asked me for my occupation - I've always had a problem with that 'blank'- because what i did at some organisation and paid me money and CPF was not entirely my occupation.

Occupation is defined as

1.

a. An activity that serves as one's regular source of livelihood; a vocation.

b. An activity engaged in especially as a means of passing time; an avocation.

2.

a. The act or process of holding or possessing a place.

b. The state of being held or possessed.

3.

a. Invasion, conquest, and control of a nation or territory by foreign armed forces.

b. The military government exercising control over an occupied nation or territory.

While being an HR exec is 1a. it doesn't fulfil my 1b. it also doesn't possess my being nor my heart and does not exercise, or i refuse to let it exercise, control over me.

Recently, as I was filling out a form that asked for my personal particulars, and in that "occupation" blank, i just filled in that I'm a "writer and HR exec", the latter of which is what i do for my day job. In other words, my occupation as defined by 1a is "HR exec"; my occupation as defined by 1b to 3b, literally or figuratively, is writing.

In this way, i have promoted myself because I never referred to myself as a writer before. And some time after i filled the form, which I did without much thought or decision making, i realised that I had presumptiously referred to myself as a writer - and through that, I became one.

It's a promotion from my previous title - I was a "closet writer".

Speaking of closet writers, there's the story "Would Write" about one.

"Would write" is a morbid tale, even by my standards. I can't remember what came over me, but I recalled one documentary (or maybe it was reading about it online) about a cleaning company in America which specialised in cleaning up after dead bodies and the mess they made. Apparently, the body entirely disintegrates, given the right humidity and temperature, even the bones and stuff. (And so, dead bodies would stain beds and carpets, which had to be properly cleaned before it could be chucked.)

The part on the blue skies - well, that's a sentiment i really felt when I was writing underneath a blue sky one day - about more than one year ago. It was a "life is beautiful" kind of experience.

Re-reading the story, I think I could have done better in distinguishing the voice of the narrator and the character.

In 30 mins - I overheard the cats...

I overheard the cats was written in a hurry and I think the tone shows. Originally there was an opening para explaining why the narrator had to tell the story in a hurry, but it was quite out of place - in that it didn't give to the story - so I had it removed. Now I wonder if the rest of the story is out of place.

Wanted at first to write a Frankenstein kind of story about a mad scientist who was out to remove people's testicles and implant them into their eye sockets. But it's a bit sick and cruel and a bit too violent, so i thought to make it happen to some kind of animals instead, so that it's at least a bit cartoonish.

hm... I wrote the story in 30 minutes. I aimed to write it in 15 minutes but I think with a little bit of editing it took longer than that. Why in a hurry? I was tired it was late but thought I should try to write something anyway, so I had to spit something out.

I used to usually take 2-3 hours (sometimes much longer) to come out with a piece, with story edits... and used to revisit the stories and edit them and edit them back and everything... very very often. But recently, i think in this year, I haven't done much editing. My average timing is maybe about 1 hour to write a story. and I don't think it's because I'm more confident of my writing (actually it makes me a lot less confident), but I do feel like I can always go back and edit them somemore, when i have more time, but when i have more time, I would rather spend it on writing something new.

The jobless period has been quite fruitful and productive for me - in terms of pieces/month... and then frankly, I've forgotten a lot of what I've written... which surprises me, because I usually know my stories quite well.

So what do you do as your pastime? I used to watch the fan twist itself silly.

Part 3 of ? - Relieve

Relieve is based on my recent flu season. I've been having the sniffles every other week. In between, I'd be feeling weak from recovery.

Everytime I check on sneak, i would realise and be appalled at how long ago the last post was. I realise what keeps me from wanting to write about my writings is the linking here and there the pages that I have to do. So, I think i should just keep up the writing a bit, and then, one day when I have the mood, then I'll do a massive linking exercise.

This Relieve is one of part 3 of a death series (i dunno how many more to come), but apparently i must be feeling rather morbid lately. After a straw poll, seems that Relieve is the favourite, though it might not be my personal favourite, which might be "Would write". But relieve is the funniest of course. And when I was telling it to 2 of my good friends on Sunday, I shed tears from laughing so hard.

I actually don't believe that one would feel like choking from a piece of pee sai. but it's just a story. I'm especially proud to suddenly thought of how the body would excrete all the sai after death because the muscle relax and all that. Actually having done a brief research, not all deaths would cause the bowels to be released. Only due to some causes.

2 points.
1) on the title. Called it relieve, relieve being a sense of relieve and relieve of shit. I wanted to come up with a less act cool name, but i couldn't, and I was sleepy. Relieve also as in the relieve of the plane, ie something like gradient. So, watch the girl's neurotism escalate as we read on the story.

2) on the meaning. Choose such a stark and dirty ending, to remind us that death is absolute and dirty, but simple and unavoidable. No matter how you would try to keep your nose shit, after you die, the shit will be exploded all over the floor. Thus, the moral is to enjoy life, and just dig your nose lor, if you want.

I'm falling asleep at the computer as I'm typing this, so I'm gonna end here. take care and i do hope to write sooner.

To those who bought/buying/will buy the book

Just a note to inform you, in case you'd like to know, that $5 of the proceeds went to comm chest. Thanks.

Coach - She always carries a book in her handbag

She always carries a book in her handbag... actually inspired by a train ride home. I suppose I was listening to some light-hearted music and had no place to sit so i just people watched the office ladies (OLs) in the train... wondering if I'm just like them. counting the number of branded handbags in the train - wondering why would so many people spend so much money on just a bag - will I ever understand? Wondering if there's something wrong with the world when thousand dollar bags are so prevalent...

anyway, personally, I very often carry a book or 2 in my handbag that I don't read cos I'm more likely to try to write into a notebook - but the books are there in case I don't feel like writing then I would like to have something that I feel like reading to read.

The trivial here is the "but i still like coach leh". Coach may mean:

1.

a. A motorbus.

b. A railroad passenger car.

c. A closed automobile, usually with two doors.

d. A large, closed, four-wheeled carriage with an elevated exterior seat for the driver; a stagecoach.

2. An economical class of passenger accommodations on a commercial airplane or a train.

So, its like cute lar.

if it had a taste - emotional blackmail

Emotional blackmail was written from seeding an analogy that i used in an email to a friend - on someone being strangled by some umbilical cord - and it had something to do with emotional blackmail.

On the relevant note - would like to explicate more on the taste of abstract constructs. You see, i think if emotional blackmail had a taste it would taste like bad - watery blueberry cheesecake - that had been left outside of the fridge for too long.

Pride would taste like steel. Like the first swig from a newly opened bottle of beer that had been left on the shelf for too long such that the bottle cap has a strong taste or influence on the mouth of the bottle so it tastes like steel.

Jealousy might taste like wine - plum wine, red wine, whatever wine - that's left to air too much like it tastes a little vinegar-ish. Much truth in the chinese way of describing jealousy as eating-vinegar.

Having blisters on the feet tastes like apple cider vinegar.

Having too much work to do, and too little sleep, tastes like vomit. Vomit of someone who drank too much milo.

I like the description of the little emotional blackmail monster. freaks me out. but i think that's quite what the little emotional blackmail cherub would look like. innocent, in nature, but deformed and ...murderous?

Grandmother series

Grandmother series... a new grandmother series because thought i'd better record down the wisdom of my grandmother while they're still fresh in my memory.

Can't believe I haven't posted anything here for more than 1 month!