Here we are. November. The month where Amihan slowly breathes this way, replacing the hot, humid air with a cold morning chill. It’s the month where I, in my deep of hearts, asked for God’s provision, and THAT happened in large bulks, which is something I rejoice for. Now, we’re going to celebrate the holidays with our bushels full.
I have come to a point where I was writing for an entire week and probably not breathing. But, you know what? I was blessed, for I wrote things that I liked, or at least learned to, because one wonderful client allowed me to ramble in my own voice, sarcasm and all, and for me, that was fun and refreshing. I’m still working on my monthlies; I am proud to say that I have clients who have held on to me for almost a year, and it’s just amazing how they believed and relied on me. Somewhere near the end of the month, I discovered that some good things are just not right for you. This, I learned the hard way. But I am pressing on with this concept, volunteer or not, because this touches something my heart is all-yes. Unfortunately, my head is not 100% there.
I realized, for the nth time, that my MS needed a revision. This is probably the revision I am proudest to make, because not only is it starting to nicely pace out, but everything is coming so naturally. The reason? I’ve imagined and re-written this book for so many times, I know it like the back of my hand. Now, I’m sad to say I am not a George R.R. Martin or a JK Rowling for that matter, but my only goal is to get this book published. And I’m at that.
I’ve also read YA contemporary books, at least snippets of them, to see what works. Quiet, long-boiled stories are the thing, not because they’re written with words so delicious you’d want to soak in them, but it gives you the chance to fully immerse yourself with your character, which is what every book needs. I did that. First paragraph, and there’s a jeepney. I know you’d probably by asking, “Why not ditch the damn book because you keep rewriting it again and again? I’m sorry to tell you that I love this book so much, I couldn’t bear parting with it.
Besides, it’s doing great for my self-discovery as a writer.
I will be querying in Spring 2019.
Some nice things
I went back to Atlag UMC to speak to the youth! They were plenty, they were alive, they were listening, and of course, I was just babbling. The funny thing was I had this thing sort of foreseen in a dream [See my Stranger Dreams on Twitter]. And yes, it kinda happened.
Flickr just announced that they will be stopping their free 1 TB service to their users, and so, in order not to forget the visual memories I took of places here and there (Flickr said they’ll allow 1000 photos per each account, and my photos were WAY MORE than that), I downloaded them. Well, most. Now, they’re sitting on my hard drive until I transfer them on a proper storage. I actually hate the lack of accessibility for them; on Flickr, I was able to download my photos, anytime, anywhere.
We bought papa a new laptop! He came home from UTS, saying that he has enrolled, and would be doing his thesis, and if he managed to finish and pass next March, he might be graduating on April! We’ve got a student in the house; of course, we want to give him the best. Come Sunday, we went straight to the mall, which only had 2 computer stores, and bought one from the place I did not prefer at first. It was, I think, a lovely encounter, for the staff who accommodated us got a little talk with my Pastor-father, and he and his wife were yet to have a baby,and kind words were uttered before we walked out of the store with an HP laptop in hand.
I think I’d be probably needing a new laptop soon, too. I hope I have enough money for that.
I also bought mama her much-longed-for mixer! We almost lost her when she went straight to the cooking and baking utilities, and we found her already setting her eyes on her mixer. The staff had a hard time putting the thing back into its box after the testing, but to mama, it didn’t matter. She had her mixer. She’s going home with it.
The vacuum sealer we also ordered came on the day I had no cash.
As a treat for my *ehem* hard work, I bought myself a watch. And yes, it was on sale, half-the-price off. I’m beginning to think I have gotten the stingy, more practical side of the Avendanos whose eyes were only set on the things with discounts.
- I will not hurry this dream, I wrote at the back of my journal, reminding me that in the past year, I have wasted many a lovely chances due to my premature querying. But! I would never learn without trying, and so this journey had to have its own sacrifices. I still have a few people in my list, actually more than the ones I’ve sent this to, and I know I’ll find one in 2019. AM I DECLARING THIS OR WILL I EAT ALL THESE WORDS BACK? idk
- For some reason, I discovered how reactionary I am, and that’s a bad thing, because instead of mulling things over with possibilities of acceptance, my head would always start with, NO! if it’s different. I don’t want it. I’m learning to change it.
- In A Wrinkle in Time, which I am yet to watch in whole, the Happy Medium said to Meg – I don’t know if this was in the book – “You will fear the answers, but you cannot avoid them.” And I held on to that. I’m the type who would not read emails when I feel they come with bad news, but now, I’m learning to take hold of my fear and shut it aside. Little by little, I guess.
- Do not look away from your monsters. One Sunday, I rode a jeep beside a woman who had a fit. She was writhing and cringing and shaking and moving uncontrollably, but she’s fine. She looked like someone who regularly had a seizure. I was thankful for this experience, because I had a chance to conquer a monster: my very own fear. She was a beautiful human. She deserves to live normally, unjudged by people surrounding her. I wish I had looked after her better, though. I didn’t know what to do, as I was not a nurse.
I’ve said this before: none of the things I planted this year grew into a harvest. None. I still haven’t gotten my rejection from that YA magazine I sent my short story to. I didn’t even have a poem published; well, except one. But this is funny: I think I harvested things I planted many, many years before. Harvest, I now understand, takes time.
There’s nothing to show off in the end of the year, but I have been consistently loved to the brim, and I am sprouting a few leaves worth being thankful for.