Writer's block extraordinaire

For everyone's 411, I am an aspiring author. Yes, you got that right, folks. I'm an aspiring author at fifteen. Told you I was a geek. While everyone else my age would want to hang out with their friends, and do whatever, I would rather be with a laptop or paper and pen, and scribble everything my mind runs into.

And to tell you the truth, I have been writing since elementary school. Poems, short stories, you name it. But high school made me want to right more, longer, complex-er. I couldn't recall exactly how many pieces of literature I've done, but I'm guessing that there is a LOT. Like major.

Being socially awkward turned me into this person. I had a few friends to hang out with, and I think I didn't want to hang out at all. It was too tiring for me, I guess. I don't know. 

So in that sense, I make my own world. So far, I haven't really finished a story, except those way back in elementary. The complex ones were difficult, especially because of the hectic schedule courtesy of schoolwork. It bummed me.

It was like every time I thought about a new story (and honestly, that happened like a lot), I just jot down in that instantaneous moment, write as much as I can, feeling so ecstatic. And then boom! Distraction comes along, and the momentum, the precious momentum, has just been shattered. I only make it to ten chapters, roughly. And then, when I go back to writing again, there's just no magic in it anymore. I couldn't feel what I felt when I wrote it initially. 

That's my problem. Writer's block. Lack of focus. Loss of momentum. Whatever you call it. I was having a bad case of whatever that is. And I would give just about anything for a remedy. 

It's just that I feel like it's such a waste. 

Anyone know the answer? 

x's and o's,

AERASALVATORE

Happy Halloween!

The first of November marks the scariest day in the 365 days that we get to have each year. Or was it October 31? I still am mislead about the whole date thing. Some say it's the November first, some say it's October thirty-first. Whichever, I still am buzzed about the whole thing. Honestly, Halloween scares the heck out of me, the same chilly effect brought about by Friday the thirteenth.

Okay, maybe I am a bit superstitious, I know. But I still am a skeptic about a lot of things, don't get me wrong. Halloween just doesn't get me excited the way Christmas does or something. Are you following?

Anyway, I know Halloween is a real fun event in other parts of the world, where they can go trick-or-treating and dress up in Halloween costumes. But in my part of the world, that awesome event was non-existent. Well, sure there were some people who followed that certain tradition, but it wasn't really that socially acceptable. Minority of the people here do that. And majority of the people find it too distressing or just not worth it.

In my part of the world, Halloween is when you visit your deceased relatives in the cemetery and pray once more for their souls. It was the time of year dedicated to the dead. It was the time where families reunited. In the economical sense, it was the time when buses and public transports were booked, carrying passengers who want to go home to their provinces and visit their dead relatives. It was the time when every news broadcast on local television was keeping track of the happenings in cemeteries in cities, on the lookout for anything interesting.

i once recall a certain story-sharing I was involved in just a few days before this marked day. Every story we shared had to be scary or creepy or macabre.

And I was surprised that there were actually a lot of stories, true stories, which the group shared. And I was just there, sitting and listening, with no story to share. I hadn't had any encounters with supernatural beings, and I didn't want to. If they were really here, I just want to leave them be, so for them to leave me be. See? Mutualism was the key.

But I realized as story after story started to register in my brain, that supernatural entities may be lurking everywhere. Some people may see them, some may not (like me, and like I said, I don't want to). But if that theory is correct, then we're not the only ones in this world. We gotta learn to share, I guess. And Halloween 's dedicated to them, too.


Happy Halloween!

x's and o's,
AERASALVATORE

Just Another One of my Psychobabbles

What is the deal between you two? Or...three? Whatever.

Note: Some of the information may be a wee bit unmatched to your version of the story. You know, in case you know me. ;) okay

Since freshman year, I have had this crush on a guy named Nick (not his real name). That came out well and straightforward. Anyways, things were stable between us back then, you know, casual convos, exchange of greetings and nods here and there. Until one day, I wake up to find that the entire batch knows about my insane crush on Nick, including him. It was awful. I only told a few people about it and I was cool with it. That is until the unexpected tell-all happened. Our casual whatever just got burned at the stake. With nothing left. Stupid rumors.

Meanwhile, here I am four years later, still utterly ignoring and ignored by him. We aren't really on speaking terms for the past years. We just talk when the situation demands it. And it sucked.

All those years, I tried to forget about him and just about this crush. I had to tell myself that this was just a crush. It'll pass, like they always do. But expectations were far from reality. And the reality was, was that it didn't.

But I did try to keep it on low-profile. You know, keep to myself and everything. And I have told everyone that I was over it, and that it was cool. Which, I think they buy. Well, some of them that is. But whatever, things were about to change when we reach sophomore year.

We were sophomores, and freshmen were invading the school, swarms of them, of the different variety. But one certain variety caught the eye of Nick. She was the perfect match for him. And her name was Sophie (not her real name). It bummed me somehow that someone could actually find their match made in heaven. And I guess it stung, a little. But, I guess the least I could do was to be happy for him. Be happy for them.

That is until I find that Sophie had had a lot of guys stringing along. It was like every guy in the school wanted to be close to her. And wanted her for themselves. One of them was Nick. And he wasn't getting any special treatment. It was his best friend, Ian (not his real name) however, whose future with the S-chick seemed brightest. She was into Ian, and I know this because during that time, everyone seemed to be checking for updates about Sophie's love life. Girls were clinging to their guys, tight. Anyway, back to the Ian story. I had to admit, they were a better match. Whoops.

But there was one teenie-tiny problem. Ian was taken. You read it right, he had a girlfriend. And it was major buzzkill to Sophie. It wasn't cool. Ian then wanted to break up with his gf to be with Sophie, but then things got complicated, and soon enough, Sophie just got tired if waiting for things to iron out between her and Ian. And Ian was just messed up.

So, it was time for the Nickster to play dirty. Well, figuratively. And not dirty. Oh darn, scratch that. It was time for Nick to make his move. And like bestfriends do, Ian actually helped him win the girl, and beofre you know it, Nick and Sophie became the campus couple or something. People were practically worshiping them and their perfect relationship. 

Okay, maybe that came out a little mean. But it was true. The only thing lacking was for them to videotape everything they did and turn their lives into a reality TV show and let everyone spy on them on television. JK

You're probably wondering. What happened to me? 

Well, there I was. Drowning in self-pity. NOT. Okay, maybe I was a little bit 'hurt' about all that had transpired. But what was I supposed to do? The universe was in their favor. What's meant to be was meant t o be. No more, no less. But I still had something against Sophie that time. I didn't know the girl. 

But that summer, I made an impulse decision. To get to know her, I had to talk to her, and what was the best way to sound nice without having to make an effort to look nice and I guess, be nice, to someone than to text them. That way, I couldn't be as repulsive as I was when I saw her in person. Because in truth, I disliked the girl. I admit it. 

And I realize it was stupid. Because after text after text, I finally see that she's fine. She's a good girl. And she's perfect. Pffft

Well anyway, junior year wasn't all bad either. There were some notable notes on the Nick and Sophie department, though. 

Exhibit A. Prom

During which event, Nick arrived fashionably late thanks to some fashion emergency a few miles away from the venue. And during which event, Sophie was picked to be an usherette. No surprise there. Anyway, the real thing, is that every body and I mean everybody expected to see them dance or show 'em some PDA or something. But no, as I dance with random guys from my class, I always take a sneaky glance at them. Creepy, I know. But I wanted to be in-the-radar for anything. Like everyone else, I had expectations. But that night, everyone didn't have much to say. There was no dancing, no public display, no anything. No matter how much each of their BFF's forced them to dance, the look on their faces seemed to contradict. Nick was just pissed, his expression a little unreadable, but it was evident he was annoyed and irritated by all the pushing. And Sophie, well she was plain sad.

At the end of that night, all I could think about was: What the hell was going on?

Exhibit B. Unusual Decline in SNS Activity

Well, I don't want to make further note on this one. But you get the picture.

But then I realize it wasn't a picture at all. It was a puzzle. A three-piece puzzle, and Nick and Sophie were just 2/3 of the whole equation. Meet then freshman Valerie. Yeah, she was pretty. enough said. Nick liked pretty girls. Nothing else mattered. Big whoop.

So, then senior year comes along, and the whole Nick and Sophie relationship has totally gone overboard. Their ship was sinking. Or so I heard. Turns out things weren't going good between the two of them, and they decided to just part. But the feelings are still there though. Or so they tell me.

But is Nick ready to fill in another space? Turns out people are saying he likes Valerie now. No surprise there again. But, what is up with all this? Confusing much? I am so not following. But it was fun keeping track unintentionally. 

So what do you think? Because I have no idea..

x's and o's, 

AERASALVATORE

"Nosy B*tches Die"

I know this is totally none of my beeswax, and I am in no way interfering with some war I think is about to ensue, but as a student journalist (haha), I guess I need to take a stand. This is not some way to take sides or whatever, I'm just laying out what I think about this current situation...that doesn't concern me. I guess this is what you may call...A REACTION PAPER.

Okay, it sounds nerdy. But.. yeah. It is nerdy. But here it goes. I'm going to write this is a vaguely manner so as not to raise suspicions. In case you know me or something.

So, rumors have been circulating lately and it is not good publicity. This was supposed to be kept secret I think, because it is so not something that anyone should just hear about. This wasn't like the light gossip you can tell your bajillion friends about. This was heavy gossip. Ones that should be kept locked up in a box somewhere and should only be known to the people you truly trust.

When the word came out, I was stunned. And I thought that they were just that: rumors. And that none of that was true. It was absurd. I let it slide.

But my faith in that theory was completely trashed when people started talking about it again, and now with the confirmation that the rumors are true. It was unbelievable. But I swore to myself that I wouldn't say anything to anyone, especially the ones that were totally unconcerned about the entire thing and those who were clueless and just wanted to get updated about the whole issue, no matter how much they begged and got angry with me.

I didn't care. It wasn't my secret to tell.

And with each passing day, that rumor, which was then proven to be a fact, was becoming dead to me. Like I said not involved.

But sometime today, another shocker looked me right in the face. I innocently ran into a message from the person involved in the rumor, er, fact, to this person no. 2 who I guess is her friend and all, about person 2 spreading the issue to just about everyone she knows. And I could certainly conclude from said message that person 1 was not happy about it. And that this was going down a road far too bumpy to walk into.

Seriously, I admit to having to help spread rumors but not in to the point where it actually leads to the above example. The above example illustrated future roadkill. It was definitely going nowhere good.

I'm not lecturing and all, but I guess this is a lesson learned. That rumors can break someone. They may just be verbal and non-physical things, but they can cut like knives and leave us bleeding. It can ruin a person's reputation, which he.she has just worked his/her butt out for his/her whole life.

So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, just be vigilant. Be on the lookout for whatever comes your way. You never know. Karmic intervention may just dodge the bullet back to you. Karma's a biatch. Or so they say.

x's and o's,
AERASALVATORE

Failure Déjà vu

So, there I was. Chosen once more to represent the school in the English Broadcasting Team. I was reluctant at first, since last year, me joining the team wasn't a very likely combination, and only resulted in huge turmoil.

But this year, I decided to give it another shot. And I was really happy during the rehearsals, because from all the feedback, I presumed I was doing fine. We were good. I was having issues about being assigned to be the stinger operator this year (again) because that was all I was last year. Yup, I was the "technician". I was NOT a broadcaster. And it sucked, in my core, I felt bad, but I had to put a smile on my face, just to keep the show going. (Not to mention, I cried every night during last year's rehearsals, because my reviews weren't good).

LAST YEAR

Okay, so, maybe I had my hopes up. I was chosen, right? So, that meant I had something. That certain factor, that certain potential. But why was I coming up short? Why wasn't I good enough now? And I realized that maybe I was the one bringing the team down, which was why they didn't give me any lines, at all.

During the contest proper last year, I did my job. I operated the stinger. After the performance, their performance, they all had praises for the broadcasters (which I wasn't). And only negative feedback for me, the stinger-operator, saying the stinger wasn't audible. That they couldn't hear the stinger from afar. That wasn't so good to hear.

When they announced the winners, we didn't make the cut. And I felt really really really bad. So, I was the super heavy anchor that pulled everyone down. They were doing so well, I was the defect.

THIS YEAR

Like I said, I was in the B-team again. Great, brings back wonderful memories. NOT. But, since I am graduating, might as well cherish my last presscon ever. And i felt really dedicated. Even though i didn't stay in the dorms, I made an effort to stay in school until 9 PM. It was physically straining.

At last, D-day came. The Broadcasting contest was the only contest that day. So, all the pressure was on us. All eyes and ears focused, and ready to scrutinize any mistakes.

Then it happens. It was like all of my senses were slowly deteriorating. I was having the bad case of the jitters. An extremely bad case. This happened often, especially when I'm under such huge pressure.
My hands shake as I do all the techie stuff for the stinger, and to add up to the tension in my gut, I was secluded from the others, in the techie corner. damn, that wasn't part of the plan.
They give me a microphone, a wireless one (I had to admit, I was impressed), and I take a deep breath and start the presentation.
All I remember was the serious look on the spectator's eyes, on me. Then, I remember being told countless of times to keep the stinger volume down. And I also remember, very vividly, the 10-second (roughly) DEAD AIR.
After it was all said and done, I felt weird. I felt relieved, upset, and heavy inside. But all in all, I was feeling numb all over. Like, I was drugged that whole time, and now I had just woken up sober and totally unaware of what had just transpired. (disclaimer: i don't go drugs)
I had to wait for two hours to know the results. I hated suspense, especially of this kind.
There I was, sitting with the team, already apologizing to some of them because of the thingy earlier. But it was all up to the judges. If, by some miracle, we got in, then that would just make my day. I cross my fingers.
One by one, they announce the winners of each category. Some won, some didn't. There were shouts, claps,  and I'll have to mention that a few tears shed.
And finally, it was time for the broadcasting teams. There were six of us competing, but only three would move on to the division level.
I wasn't getting my hopes up. I knew that I had made a bomb explode on those judges which made them think our group wasn't good enough. But I admit, there was some itty-bitty part of me that clung on to the small miracle.
As I sit there in wait, I tune out everything else except the emcee's announcement.
She mentions the winners in ascending order, and when it was finally time to announce the champion, everyone around me were telling us that we were going to win. It was overwhelming. I felt as if I was bearing the world on my shoulders (well, because of my slip-ups), and I somehow felt like a female atlas. Their cheers were ringing and echoing inside my ears, all those words of expectation.
They announce the winner. It wasn't us.

I felt like I was transported out of the universe for a few seconds only to be recoiled back to that seat, back to the reality that we didn't make the cut. All because I screwed up. And I screwed up, BIG TIME.
I remember feeling remorse and upset, and when those emotions started flooding inside me, my usual defense mechanism took full control. I cried.
It had been a month or so since I cried, and that was a long time already (considering I was a major cry-baby) and trust me when I say, you don't want to get me crying. Because once I cry, I never seem to stop. Even though I keep chanting to myself that I'm okay and order my brain to make me stop crying already, the tears seem to have a mind of their own. They flow, like freaking heavy rain.
I was a mess, and I was all over the place. And just when I think it couldn't get worse, I was sterring towards a whole chain of unfortunate events.
First, our school principal arrives. Kill.me.now. I couldn't let her see my emotional breakdown, it was too embarrassing. So I stay as far away as possible from her, and hide my face so she wouldn't see. I had to say, her timing was just PERFECT. way to go.
Second, my eyes got swollen. It happened seldom. Like, swollen, and red. Like red eyebags. It was not appreciated when it had had to occur on that fateful day.
Third, I made it my obligation to apologize to every member of the team because I have just single-handedly shattered their opportunity to show what they've got in the division level. And I couldn't control my effing tears matched with my croaking voice as I apologized to them.
Fourth, I was thirsty. Like, really thirsty. Honesty, I felt dehydrated or something. Okay.
Fifth, I wanted a shrink. The amateur ones I had from my really close buddies in school that lasted for hours. There was no one there to talk to. Everyone was clearly preoccupied. Sure I could let out one-sentence statements to some of my friends, but that didn't help cushion my feels.
Sixth, I couldn't reach the other people on the team. Mission (see unfortunate event number 3) NOT Accomplished.
Seventh, when we were going back to the place we were staying in (and I was feeling a wee bit better), someone just had to remind me that it was my fault our presentation sucked. Like i didn't know that already. Whoops, I got the memo. Okay? No need to rub it in again. That's right, bring on back the tearfest.
Eighth, I was being told to get over it already. Like hello? This whole thing just happened like minutes ago, and then a nasty reminder came up fresh from the oven, I don't think I can get over that whole disaster that fast. I wasn't that type. The least you can do, is just leave me be.
Ninth, I felt like everyone was judging me. Don't get me wrong, I know maybe I'm getting way too overboard with all these assumptions, but, if you were in my shoes that day, you probably would have felt the same way, nevertheless.
Tenth, when i got home and told my aunt that we didn't make it, she couldn't believe it. She even asked me why we lost and that she just couldn't believe that we lost. Okay, no room for more rubbing. I get it. I was the failure. I mean, of all people, shouldn't she be the one to hug me and comfort me with soothing words to make me feel better? And all I heard was another replay of heartbreaking remarks I tasted earlier. This was great.

Okay, that was ten. WOW

What I did at the inevitable defense mechanism I had whenever I felt downright depressed about something. I put my earphones on, turn up the music, and tune the whole world out. I know it's a cliche teenager thing, but it made me feel better. Solitude is my best friend, and my lonesome companion. Music was my therapist, who always repairs me for free.

But then I think, as I lie alone in my bed in the four walls of that room, that maybe this was meant to be. That maybe it just wasn't for me. For the team. You can't argue with divine will. It just, you know, happens. I know this would account for something, and maybe everything will make sense someday.

So, for now I'm just on the process of getting over the whole failure de javu thing and turning the other cheek.

TTFN, still need to make this script for out stage portrayal of King Arthur. Doing Acts 5 and 6. And damn it, I have a crush on Lancelot. ;) But don't tell anyone. xD

x's and o's,
AERASALVATORE

Running Away Leaving Everything Behind

Hello! Do you ever get that feeling when you just want to run away from everything? All the bad stuff happening around you? Just breaking free and lift the weight on your shoulders?

Well, if not, then, I guess you can stop reading from here (or you can keep reading if you really really want to). And if you do, then by all means, keep reading.

I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. We are all Atlases of some sort, carrying the world on our bare shoulders. And as we grow older, it seems like the burden gets heavier and heavier. 

I'm fifteen years old. Senior. Scientist in the making, while having an affair with creative writing and journalism. This is one of my burdens. Since I am a senior, college is never far behind. I have to choose what course I need to take, and what university I should enroll  to. It's tough. I want to take up Journalism or literature or something related to writing, because I do love writing. And it's my passion. On the other hand, I simply cannot. You see, I am enrolled as a scholar in an exclusive school where our paths have to be scientifically or mathematically centered. We basically can't take up courses unrelated to these fields. But I don't regret, because their training's exceptional. 

That's burden-on-my-shoulder-number-one.

Another burden: I'm slightly overweight. Or so the doctor told me four years ago. I haven't gone to the doctor to check on my weight since. Well, that's a huge deal for me. I was big when I was born until I was six or something, then six to eight years old I was real skinny, then from then on, I'm what everyone calls chubby. I think it's a euphemism or something. But whatever, the point is is that since then I've always felt so self-conscious and that did lower my self-esteem. And psychologically it has affected me. I always fear that the chair I'm sitting on will break or something like that. And I always feel like everyone's eye is on me, because, you know, I'm big. The feeling sucks.

That's burden-on-my-shoulder-number-two.

School is pressuring me. Yes, I bet everyone feels this. But to the few who don't, lucky you. Well, this is self-explanatory I guess, so let's move on.

That's burden-on-my-shoulder-number-three.

I'm "anti-social". Or so they tell me. I don't know if I was always like this. I do have friends, don't get me wrong. But it's those times when I meet new people sometimes, it's like I don't know what to talk about with this person. And I'm the kind of gal who wants to make the second move. I don't like having to do the first move. Sorry. And then there's that case with the people who I used to know, but now we're not so close anymore. It's like "What happened to you? What happened to us" moments, where you used to be real close, and now you're just strangers. Sometimes, I have no idea what to say in those cases. And the consequence is, a lot of times I feel absolutely out-of-place. 

That's burden-on-my-shoulder-number-four.

Expectations. Everyone has expectations no matter how much we deny it. And at times I feel like the stakes are so high for me, that I think that I am not allowed, i repeat, not allowed to make mistakes. And so when I do, i feel like poop.

That's burden-on-my-shoulder-number-five.