I Write Like [Insert Computer Generated Comparing Writer Here]

Well, fill it in!

So as part of my procrastination regime, I randomly Googled something up in pursuit of randomness. I saw this picture posted on my Facebook news feed, something about a random person claiming that he — or she — writes like Stephen King. There was a quiz and everything!

(Now, correct me if I wrong but isn’t Stephen King the dude who wrote all those suspense, science fiction-y books? The Shining?)

Anyway, I figured I might as well do this “quiz” myself. Because, you know, I must stick by my procrastination regime. It’s a very strict, very taxing way to live your daily life. I do not recommend it. My result is below.

I Write Like by Mémoires, journal software. Analyze your writing!

I have no idea who David Foster Wallace is and yes, I am aware that I should take this result with a grain of salt — that is, I tried the  generator again and got a completely different result. Albeit, I used a different passage… Huh.

*hears school bag huff in annoyance for being ignored*

Oh, I suppose that’s a sign saying I should leave. I’ve got poems to dissect, essays to bugger up and equations to strangle within an inch of their lives. Y’know. Typical student behavior.

Over and out.


Retrospection — Has it really been 12 months?

This is definitely a surreal experience. I can’t believe I forgot about this but, believe it or not nine days ago last year was the very first time I’ve posted in this humble blog of mine. Yes, it’s my blog’s anniversary — or I suppose, blogoversary.

Whoo! Bring out the champagne, people!

Er, make that alcohol-free champagne...

So much has changed in just a span of twelve months — I mean, just twelve measly monthsReally? Last year, I was in a completely different country, living a completely different life with no clue what to do with my life. Albeit, I have no idea what to do with my life now, at least I’m that little bit closer to finding a purpose.

This blog — the internet in general — has been a constant presence in my life, it surprises me now to think that I could simply look back on past posts to remind myself of my thoughts and feelings on certain subjects half a year ago. So much has changed, it’s simply quite unreal.

Of course, I could have never gotten this far without you, my dear readers. You have no idea how much I appreciate your presence, and even though I feel like I’m ‘talking’ to thin air most of the time, I know you guys are there… reading, listening, watching (and not in a creepy way, mind you). So yes, thank you so much, because those little “likes” and comments and subscriptions make my day.

he novelty of this blogging thing has still not faded away; I still smile like a hopeless idiot every time I get an email notifying me that someone new has “followed” this blog. I doubt that feeling will ever fully leave. Please keep reading, and have some ice cream on me! You know I’m having some right now!!

Over and out.

First Introductions

I haven’t been writing stories much recently, which is such a shame. It’s not like I’ve been doing this on purpose, but I haven’t been inspired by anything recently. It fell out of habit. So anyway, I figured if I want to make it a habit again, I might as well “exercise” my creativity muscles. Hence, this happened:

Rain flooded from the skies with a melodic stomp. A figure stood in the middle of the square; quite still, quite alone, and very much deep in thought. It was mid-afternoon, yet the typical English weather had turned the usually bright college campus into a dull and dreary location. The occasional student passed by, late for their class and none bothered to spare the figure a second glance. That is, none bothered until —

“Tea or coffee?” the man asked, propping open an umbrella in the garish shade of orange.

There was a snort, either of derision or amusement, the man could not tell. “I’m more of a hot chocolate kind of person, myself.”

“Is that a yes?”

A pause.

“You’re late.”

The man smiled despite himself. “Ah, yes. Terribly sorry about that. My name’s Ian, by the way.”

“Pleasure. Now, how about that hot beverage you offered me…?”

It was raining on and off yesterday and the clouds were very grey, the wind very cold, and the company very cheerful. I was waiting outside a college campus with my friend and her cousin after an orientation we had to attend, which was quite interesting but overall quite dull (the orientation, not the company), when this inspiration slammed into my mind like a freight train. It’s just an exercise, so I’m afraid I’m still rough around the edges. But better a drabble than nothing at all, yeah?

Over and out.

Regrets, Aspirations and Chocolate Smoothies

While not exactly the first of January any more, I’m still pretty much hyped up over the “new year” because I’m weird like that. There’s nothing like the prospect of a fresh start to make my mind wander, and throughout the past couple of days I’ve found myself contemplating my life.

Have I done anything at all that I could be proud of twenty years from now?

What am I going to do for the rest of the year?

That chocolate smoothie I had this afternoon was really nice. When can I have another one?

a Ferrero Rocher flavoured smoothie from Blendini... I swear I'm in love

If I tally up all the things I did in 2011 and assess them one by one by my personal standards, I would have only a few things to be really proud of, a couple of things I’m sorta proud of, and one helluva pile of what was I thinking?! moments.

Thinking about my achievements led to me thinking about what I could have done if I had not quit so easily on some things — because yeah, I’m a quitter. Not in the sense that I just quit on that exact moment I feel like quitting, but it’s more of a gradual thing. Say I’m starting a new project… The first few weeks — months, maybe — I’d be super thrilled. Then as the excitement wears off, I’d begin to get bored before finally I’d decide to quit. That’s what happened to the violin lessons I was taking a couple of years ago, and now I’m getting this itching feeling that I should take it up again.

Maybe it’s fate, or perhaps I’m just inspired by these videos I’ve seen on YouTube today:

(You can’t really tell, but I’m a big fan of Adele’s music.)

Continue reading

You Know When You’re A Writer When…

It’s amazing how much people can change over the course of a few months. The list below is from the Notes section of my Facebook account — yes, Facebook still has Notes. Reading through it, I realise that my mindset now differed from my mindset then. I’m not saying that I’m a completely different person, just that my priorities changed.

I suppose growing up, even the tiniest bit, can alter a person. Nothing drastic, of course… but it’s enough to be felt. Now, I barely have time to write, let alone think about writing, because I’m concentrating on my courses. Ohh, the easiness of youth. *sigh*

Anyway, below is the list. The ones italicised were true of me seven months ago; the ones underlined are still true of me now. Enjoy!

1) you think of your friends as characters

2) you write them into your story

3) you get revenge on people by basing a mean character off of them in your story

4) you have conversations with your characters — the fictional ones, not your friends in the real world — and, most usually, they hate you for making their life miserable (or WAY too exciting for their liking)

5) you have some books you read for enjoyment, some you read for school, and others you read just to get ideas on how to make your stories flow better

6) everyday, you daydream about how to plug today into your story.

7) the end of your pinky is usually stained with ink (if you’re left-handed) or pencil lead.

8) you have way to many saved Word docs in your computer.

9) your drawer is overflowing with copy-paper of your printed stories/filled notebooks.

10) you mentally correct anything you read subconsciously with better words and phrasing.

11) even in the most dire of situations, you’re thinking about how it would be best written

12) you hear a song on the radio and you automatically think ‘Hey that’s a good plot idea…’

13) you constantly play the same song over and over to get into a ‘mood’ for one of the chapters

14) you wake up in the middle of the night to search for a pen/laptop/notebook to write down a story idea because you’re afraid that you’ll forget it by morning  Continue reading

NaNoWriMo Statistics

This does not bode well for me. Apparently, at the rate I’m going with my story writing, I’d be finished by March 26, 2012… that’s four months after November!! There could never be a more appropriate moment to facepalm.

Shame on me.





Weekly Photo Challenge: Possibility


It was three years ago when my old school, Bethel International, installed benches for the students to rest and hang around. The moment I first saw them, I remember thinking that it would be incredible to write a story around those benches.

Years later, I still have not written that story. Now, every time I see a bench, I feel like I’m a disappointment. So yeah, benches, to me, have a lot of possibilities.

Pre-Nano Jitters

After seeing that article on DailyPost, I figured that joining the National Novel Writing Month (aka NaNoWriMo) would be worth my while. I’ve always wanted to write a novel before I hit eighteen and, since I’m well-versed in the arts of procrastinating, I figured NaNoWriMo would be my best bet. If by chance you’re a fellow NaNo writer — or Wrimo, I think we’re called — then awesome! We can panic together!

Since I’m juggling this between my coursework, I’ll have to become a better planner and use my time wisely before November starts. My ‘novel’ is still in its baby years, but I am really psyched about this and I hope beyond hope that I will not disappoint. What I’ve got to show so far is a summary of sorts.

Dorcas Chase and Cyrus Roberg are two very different people and have absolutely nothing in common. She is the sister of the most popular girl in town, and he is the son of a reclusive scientist. However, after a strange phenomenon enabled Dorcas to somehow live in Cyrus’ mind, they find a way to coexist. Can Dorcas look past the surface and see the secret Cyrus is trying to hide? Will Cyrus ever find a way to extract Dorcas from his mind?

The answer is yes… and no.


What do you think? Does it have potential? I’m chewing my nails here…

A Peek into the Life of Tim

In a family of six where anything went as long as nobody got hurt, Timothy — or just Tim to his friends — voluntarily chose to live by a set of rules. It was a mystery to his parents, and even more so to his siblings whose lives, being teenagers, were the epitome of indifference to rules. (Who needed them, anyway?)

Despite having the same upbringing, Tim had a different viewpoint. Ever since his late grandfather had gifted him the rule book on his twelfth birthday, he had taken to bringing it everywhere with him. That was two years ago. Now, he had it memorized by heart. Rule fifteen, for example, says to own a great stereo system. Unfortunately for Tim, it was his sister older Sadie who managed to satisfy that rule. Avril Lavigne was blasting through the wall their rooms shared.

And Avril Lavigne annoyed him.

“Ate*!” Tim shouted, throwing a school textbook at the wall. It resounded with a loud thud. “Keep that down, will you!”

“I can’t hear you, Timmy!” Sadie shouted back. It was all Tim could do to rein his temper in – after all, rule forty eight specifically said to do that, even if the recipient completely deserved it. Besides, he was due for rule number one hundred and four: take a brisk thirty-minute walk every day.

The rules organized Tim’s life. They were the reason why he flosses his teeth every morning (number twenty-three), why he always remembers to put the cap back on the toothpaste (number fifty), and why he was tackling The Easy Guide to Guitar Playing despite the instrument’s obvious distaste of him, courtesy of rule number ten.

Tim pulled on his rubber shoes, carefully looking away from his polished school shoes – that would be rule twenty-two’s doing. When he was ready, he rushed out of his room, slid down the stairs banister and grabbed his iPod from the table by the door as he sped out. It was an everyday routine, and all members of his family knew well enough to never remove his iPod from its designated position on the desk. Even Vince, the family’s youngest, knew better.

With one of the modern songs pulsating hypnotically into his eardrum, Tim began his daily walk. The walk served three purposes. One was to follow the rules. Two was to get out of the house and to get as far away as possible from Sadie, and three – well, three was just coming round the corner.

April Summers. She was an entire year older than him and only lived a street over. The only thing that discouraged him from talking to her was her brawny older brother. He was supposed to be away at college, but had decided to “take a year off to consider his choices.” That was the official reason, anyway. Everyone knew that he was taking remedial high school courses.

Tim sighed to himself and shook his head, grudgingly tearing his eyes away from April. To admire from afar was all he was able to do, not that it mattered. He was only fourteen and had a lot of things to do before he felt like doing anything beyond admiring from afar. Rule number thirty-one, for instance. Buy whatever kids are selling on card tables in their front yards.

“Hello there.” Tim greeted a group of kids selling ice candy on the street. They were perched directly in front of their house, in perfect view whenever any anxious mothers would peep out through the windows. “What are you little guys selling, huh?”

One of the kids rolled their eyes at Tim’s baby voice, while another beamed happily at the prospect of having a customer. “Ice candy,po*!” she said eagerly. “Four pesos lang* for one bar, or ten for three!”

Tim laughed and paid for eight bars, one for each member of his family and two each for him and Vince. After all, there was no sense in walking all the way home, carrying bars of ice candies without eating one on the way. What’s more, that candy bar will be one more he’d have eaten than Sadie. She would be furious.

It was with a cheeky smile that Tim walked through the front gates of his house.


Some notes:

  • Ate is a Tagalog term for “older sister”, though it can also be used as a polite way to address any female — it can be a cousin or even a new acquaintance — who is older than the speaker. The boy version is kuya.
  • Po is just what you say to be respectful, such as when talking to a person of authority (a parent, teacher).
  • Lang, short for the Tagalog word lamang, can either mean ‘only’ or ‘just’ or ‘simply’.
© the.Luigi

#15 – A picture of something you want to do before you die

I’ve never really thought about things I want to do before die, mainly because I figured I’m not that near that time in my life yet. I know, that’s just the ignorance talking, but humor me, okay?

I don’t really know what to say, except that I really, really want to get published one way or another. It’s one of the things I want to do in my life, so I suppose it can be one of the things I ‘want to do before I die’. Right?