Thoughts on: The Truth About Forever by Sarah Dessen

Plot: A teenage girl's journey to self-discovery, grief, and moving forward. And of course, there's a cutie hunk along the way.

In a nutshell: A fast-paced, feel-good novel that, surprisingly, still manages to deliver a punch right in the feels.

Recommend this to: Readers looking for a light yet satisfying read. If you like your novels fast-paced with consistently-written characters, this is it. This is one YA novel that, occasional cheesiness aside, even non-YA readers would enjoy.


However... Readers on the lookout for unique plots and characters need not bother. Readers on the lookout for unpredictable twists and turns would likely abandon this novel at the first chapter alone. But don't worry, this is 250~ pages of good time.


Now to the fun part. If you have not yet read/finished The Truth About Forever (which is not likely since this was published 2004), feel free to stop reading here. A ton of spoilers* ahead! That being said, here's my take on Sarah Dessen's 6th novel:
*that is, if you happen to have not guessed every single thing that's going to happen 15 chapters away. 

The novel's premise, in itself, is actually nothing readers would call a "breakthrough." It's as every bit of how YA franchise goes:

1. Goody two-shoes (GTS) meets laid-back cutie (LBC).
2. LBC makes GTS discover her carefree side.
3. GTS can now oppose norms and stand up for herself.
4. GTS realizes love for LBC, but is met with opposition from another major character.
5. GTS says "fuck it, fuck you, fuck everythang" and runs for her liberation (in this case, literally).
6. GTS and LBC seal the happy ending with a kiss.
7. World hunger ends.

Visual representation of Macy on the last chapters.

As predictable as it is, though, you still find yourself turning page after page--enjoying the cookie-cut universe the author paints. And oddly enough, I think the novel's lack of surprise is actually what made it so magnetic. Halfway through the book, I'm pretty sure most, if not all, readers would have guessed how it would end.

But you know what? That's totally fine. 

The two main characters were so convincingly written that you can't help but "walk along with them" on their story. You find yourself reading on just to seek the satisfaction of finding out how the underdog finally comes on top and how the haters be hatin'. And, god, was it worth the wait (Screw you, Jason. Fuck you and your tri-county library database).

The plot has an undeniable charm to it and I personally liked the fact that one would hardly consider this a tale of teenage love alone but of an actual journey of moving on from grief and embracing life as it happens. Yes, I KNOW I'm talking like I'm in a John Green novel and I'm not sorry.


What could be better: The side characters, though still with consistent personalities, weren't as fleshed out and as believable as the protagonists--perhaps due to the lack of exposure and/or memorable moments. Again, you could tell from thousands of miles away who's going to matter in the story and who's not.

Also, one glaring detail that's hard to miss, and perhaps some would consider this a good thing, is that the book is written so much like a movie. Meaning, unnecessary details and buildups are done away with and readers are left with the bare necessities of the story. I guess it's just too bad because I was really looking forward to knowing the side characters more.


Overall: A solid 4 out of 5.

From A Game of Thrones to A Dance with Dragons: The Epic Reading Journey

It took me 6 months to finish five books of ASOIAF.

It took me two weeks to finish all seven books of the Harry Potter series.

This says a lot.

Of course, I understand that HP and ASOIAF are of writing styles worlds apart, with targeted audiences wholly different (maybe excluding children who like their bedtime stories gritty), hence why it's like comparing oranges to apples.

But if there's one obvious thing in common with the two, it is this: Both are freakishly long.
(*insert outdated "That's what she said" punchline here*)

they were also both painfully thick ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 

To be more precise, finishing the first four (A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings, A Storm of Swords, A Feast for Crows) only took me roughly two months. The last one however, I just had to stop halfway for some unexplainable reason.

Okay, maybe not THAT unexplainable. 

Reading the first four, to me, was a breeze; They were action-packed, heart-wrenching, and real page-turners. Sure, there were some dry parts here and there, but there's this tendency to turn a blind eye because you just know the next chapter would make up for it. I mean, that's how G. R. R. Martin rolls, right? Exposition, followed by the character reminiscing the good ol' days, a little more chit-chat here and there, then a sprinkle of sweet, sweet murder.

*sigh* Happy times. 

ah, that moment of pure bliss when a favorite character dies.

On the latest one though, the author obviously wanted to dabble more on the politics and war preparation stuff (presumably to let his readers be more immersed with the universe, as if we're not already), introducing new players on the "game of thrones," as well as day-to-day struggles of some of our characters (again with the immersion stuff). I get it. I totally get it.

It's just that there are some bits that I couldn't help but feel as if they're unnecessary long, only to find out at the end of the chapter that it's nothing but a "buildup" for the real action. 

And, when the actual intense bits come, how you feel is like this: 

You're watching a thriller. And as with all thriller films, the protagonist's major asset is to do all the wrong decisions. 

Now, protagonist hears a noise behind a closed door. He slowly approaches. The suspenseful background music goes up, as well as your heart rate. His hand oh-so slowly approaches the doorknob, the camera focuses on his nervous face, which most likely currently mirrors yours. His hand clenches and you tense up too, readying yourself to scream for when the murderous beast pops out. 

The camera then proceeds to pan on a lot of things: The drop of sweat trickling on his forehead, his uneven breathing, the way he keeps shuffling his feet, on the peeling paint on the door, etc. 

And by this time, all the built up tension from you is gone. Frankly, you're just bored. You're left thinking, "Man, just freakin open the door already." 

And the beast does come out. You're taken by surprise, of course, but looking closely, you notice how poorly-done the prosthetics on the beast is. So instead of pure, unadulterated shock, you're just left feeling a bit disappointed and unsatisfied, thinking: "Oh, well. At least I wasn't cheated on my expectations, so I guess it's alright."

That's pretty much what happens over and over and over again throughout my reading experience on the fifth installment. And it got so frustrating (and annoying) that I just felt that I needed to take a break, or else I'd completely lose interest in the series.

But thankfully, I did find the patience to finish the fifth book, and am now kind of relieved that I still have the excitement to read the next installment of ASOIAF. 

Hopefully soon!

The Verdict:
From a Game of Thrones to A Feast for Crows: 4.5 stars out of 5.
A Dance with Dragons: 3 stars out of 5.

A non- writer's solution on writer's block

I went to a topic generator site to toss me up a random topic to write on.. so, I ended up getting:

Write about a phobia.

Easy.

For as long as I can remember I was really, really, REALLY afraid of cockroaches. I mean, sure, I'm afraid of a LOT of insects (there was even a time I was scared of ants. Not even kidding.) but cockroaches, on the other hand, are something different.

They sense your fear, and assault you when you least expect it. They are masters of manipulation, fooling us humans to think you got them good at that first hit... only to find them crawling back to safety minutes later (grosses me out just thinking about it). With their flight capability, they are UN-FREAKIN'-STOPPABLE. Their spontaneity during flight is what makes them lethal; one minute they're in your wall, then next second they'd be on top of your hair madafaka go wriggle like a weakling that you are HAH HAH HAH sorry.

Once, I managed to kill one. And then I literally cried afterwards. Revenge does taste sweet.

----

You know, I never really considered myself a revengeful person. Nope, even to that cockroach I kind of felt bad afterwards (I mean, what about that cockroach's kids, right? Who'll feed them, and enable them to go to cockroach school?).

I guess whenever I do something other people would consider "revengeful," I'd only look at it merely as reciprocation. For instance, at that cockroach (whom we shall name Ben) incident. I was actually busy writing an essay (which was due next day) when voila! Ben came in through the bedroom window (I just had to put in the Beatles reference) like he was invited to my cramming party. So I was thinking: "I have to get rid of this, right?" And what I did next was pure genius. PURE. GENIUS, I tell ya.

So I went downstairs to get every. single. pair. of freakin'. flip flops. that I saw. And what would a genius do next? Why, of course proceed to throw those slippers at Ben! So, instead of just directly hitting it at close- range like a normal person would, I, undoubtedly a descendant of Albert Einstein, went full- Legolas at that shit and just... hoped to heavens even one slipper would hit. And it did.

It was a genius plan, after all.

Was it revenge? Nope. It was merely a reciprocation of how Ben treated me, which was: I-almost-died-from-fright kind of experience. I just returned what I received. Though I did actually kill poor lil' Ben. *sigh* I'll miss you, old pal.
(loljk I won't pls stay the heck away from me yo)

----


I have, literally for days, tried to start working on my script. TRIED. Only to find myself staring at a blank document ALL. DAMN. TIME.

I tried drawing, writing whatever on my journal (which ended up being slightly incoherent, by the way), watching a lot of movies, played video games to pump up the adrenaline, but still nope. ugh.

Well, as another attempt to get this freakin' writer's block away, I ended up having this idea of writing about anything, just to get the flow of words going... And I ended up with THAT :D

Conclusion: writer's block sucks. but this random rambling helped tho. (4 out of 5 stars)

to revisit is to remember.

*The following is an account of how my present self rediscovers my past self through books and dust and pretty much everything else in between.

---

Just a few days back, my professor on Film Writing asked us to revisit a place we're familiar with and see if there's something new we would see about it. This had me thinking for days, just trying to rack my brain for any possible place that I'd be interested enough in AND have the time to revisit. Somewhere I'm familiar and fond with, but have not seen for a while... and then the answer hit me.

---

I've always been very fond of reading stories for as long as I can remember. Ever since I was a kid, I would devour every piece of narrative I would get my hands on and this word ingestion would pretty much sum up how I spent my free time (which were a LOT) waaaaay back then (sigh, the good ol' childhood days).

This hobby inevitably lead to me having a stack of books that may or may not have read (yet). However, although sad to admit, my reading has slackened these days due to busy schedule, whether on school or just plain social duties. This is why if I'm asked what place I miss the most, that would be none other than my shelf,* home of the alternate universes I have lived through.

*by shelf, I actually mean a drawer where I put my thingamabobs**

**by thingamabobs, I mean books

---

At a Macro Observation: Basically a messy, dusty, stuffy mishmash of papers and books and dust and every piece of school work I didn't wanna throw away.

(no pictures for obvious reasons)

Given my very *cough* organized personality, I wasn't really surprised at the mess. But to be honest I was secretly delighted (well, not so secret anymore) seeing all those books I've forgotten I read.

At a Micro Observation: Exciting times. A lot of "first-time" experiences (no innuendo intended).

(discretion: if dirty and unkempt books distress you, save yourself and close this page.)

When one is willing to get her hands dusty, one is sure to find some fond memories, including that short stories compilation book read when she was in 4th grade or that first horror book she ever laid her eyes on and even that classic Filipino novel Noli Me Tangere which basically is a required reading but still enjoyable nonetheless and a whole lot more stuffy memories.

Like in music and in pretty much everything else in life, I've had a lot of "phases" in my reading experience so far. There was the chick lit phase, the gore phase, the manga/comic book phase, the crime phase, the drama phase, the high fantasy phase, the horror phase, and lastly, the phases I currently am in: the Asian-author phase and the classics phase. It doesn't mean that I've outgrown the previous genres, "phases" are more like, the flavor/crush/color of the week or whatever.

Below are the most memorable readings that I can physically show (because, you know, e-books)

*I may probably be one of those few people who actually prefer e-books over tangible copies

Mary Higgins Clark: if it weren't for my sister, I wouldn't even have picked up my first full- blown novel (which was Mary Higgins Clark's, my sister's favorite author). Shown in the pic are just the three I managed to read (I soon realized crime suspense stories aren't my cup of tea) but my sister would literally hoard every MHC book she sees everytime she drags me to the bookstore. Pfft, nerd. :D

Nicholas Sparks: Message in a Bottle was the first chick lit that I have ever read. To be honest, at that young and inexperienced age I read this, I was thoroughly blown away by the complexity of the plot (I was young, forgive me) and so I proceeded to read The Notebook next. And to anyone who's read 2 or more Sparks novel it would be understandable when I say that finishing The Notebook was when I got the first of many "the-author-must-be-kidding-me-right-now" reaction.

Elmer: my first comic book, under the manga/comic book phase. It was also this year (probably around 2011) that I kind of focused on practising whatever artistic hobbies I have, mostly because reading comics would inevitably make your hand itch only a pencil and paper can ease.

Sherlock Holmes: aaahhh. My very first classic novel. I used to think classics are boring and cryptic. I was wrong. I was very, very wrong.

Isang Dipang Langit: I was introduced to the wonderful world of poetry by this magnificent book. Up to now I have yet to learn the words that would suffice to describe the very different "vibe" Hernandez has made me feel when I read this, and so I would leave it at that.

Censoring an Iranian Love Story: this novel has transformed my taste in books in just a few pages. If I were made to choose a book I would re-read for a decade, I would choose this in an instant. This is what made me enter my Asian-author phase, which is the longest- running phase I'm in (since 2012, I think?). That being said, "I love this book" would be an understatement.

---

What all these made me realize: Just how far I've grown.

(a 2 AM rambling on books and existence.)

Of course I'm not saying that I'm a wizened 18 year-old or whatever. It's just that this trip down the memory lane showed me how far I am compared to my tastes before (not to imply what I read now are "better", but just very dissimilar compared to before). How, inevitably, you WOULD transform and evolve by the things you are doing right now, at this very moment. How, those seemingly unrelated books somehow made a trail that lead me here, to where I am now. How, what I am, and where I am right now, is just another footpath for my future self. And how that future self is not the destination but just another path I would eventually have to take. And so the cycle goes on and on and on. Who knows where all these would lead?

end.

---

(I was not drunk when I wrote this, just very tired and sleep- deprived.)

The Thing with some Feminists...

I'm genuinely confused.. So allow me to just spill out my thoughts in here.

If someone stands for feminism, therefore believing that each and every woman of the world is entitled the SAME and EQUAL right as to what the opposite gender is given, then why would that someone belittle and/or denounce men, in general? Is this not discrimination, an issue you were against for?

If sexist remarks thrown at women disgust you, then why not feel the same to generalizations thrown at men? If you really mean to put a stop in generalizing the entire womanhood, then why appease those who do so to the opposite gender? Is this not another case of prejudice, an issue you were against for?

If someone seeks the freedom for women in choosing their own paths, to break free from societal gender norms, then why belittle and/or denounce those who find joy in being a stay- at- home woman? Or those who glamorize themselves, finding happiness in pleasing others? Is this not oppression, the first thing you were against for?

All I'm saying is this: If your means of achieving that so- called "equality of rights" is through stigmatizing those who do not share the beliefs you follow, then I'm afraid something is terribly, terribly wrong. 

(*I apologize in advance for grammatical errors.)

Thoughts on Twilight by Stephenie Meyer

                        I was one of those people who wholeheartedly got on the bandwagon and joined the Twilight-Saga-Hater club. This was up until the realization that, having avoided reading the dreaded novel (because of its cringe- worthy cheesy plot), I bear no right whatsoever in judging, more so hating, a novel that I haven’t even given a chance to read yet. And thus, this review was conceived.

                                              

                        If you’re like me, meaning someone who was completely put off just hearing what the plot was about, and thus avoided reading and watching the franchise completely, then let me explain what Twilight is about, according to how I perceived it upon reading the book.

                        Mainly, Twilight is about Edward Cullen, as viewed by Isabella Swan. The end.

                        And now we move on to how I thought the novel was executed. (note: I will try to keep calm as I go along. Also, I’m writing this while still on Chapter 15 of the book. I don’t know if I will ever find the drive to still read on.)

                        The novel took a first- person POV, giving us, readers, a much personal contact with how the protagonist views the world. Which isn’t much. It was excruciatingly, torturously, difficult to read mainly because just the first few chapters was too repetitive for me. To illustrate, I can safely say that the first chapters of the book can be summed up into these sentences:

                        I am Isabella Swan. I am a pessimist. Seeing people around me struggle just to earn my friendship didn’t do much to boost my self- esteem; however, all it took was a few snippets of conversation with Edward Cullen to convince me that I,  a mere seventeen year- old girl, was absolutely positive that I unconditionally and irrevocably love him.

                           Their flirtation pretty much sums up the next chapters. I have never been this annoyed and frustrated thinking just how blown out of proportion the partition of character build-ups are. I literally had to stare off to space once in a while to stop myself from crying how severe this case is. Sure, some of the flirtation part was convincing and at times amusing, but after LITERALLY HUNDREDS of pages of romancing, it just gets tiring and redundant. And infuriating.

                           To illustrate, Swan’s conversations with high school friends such as Mike or Angela or others whom I already forgot because Meyer didn’t even bother giving them a more concrete character, are all curt, bland, direct to the point, and much to my disappointment, bleak. All just a few sentences, occupying a maximum of one and a half pages. HOWEVER, when it comes to the magnificent and sparkling Edward Cullen (I wish I was exaggerating when I say this): their exchange of flirty comebacks would last for five pages, minimum. And to make matters worse, after these exchanges, all it would take is a few more sentences and, VOILA! Somehow Edward is the topic of the narration. Again.

                          

                           This happened for probably 12 or so chapters that I started to wonder if this legitimately belongs to Young Adult fiction and not romance (with the whole vampire-wolves gimmick).

                           Also, though I don’t object, it was really bothersome how coolly Swan reacted to the whole “Yes-I’m-A-Vampire-And-Yes-I-Might-Kill-You” confession, as if a person admitting he’s a vampire is the most normal thing in this day and age.

                           Bella: ayy boi u a vampire?

                           Edward: yah i stalk u 2 sumtymz lol

                           Bella: .. dats hawt

                           And by this I end this article. Yes, I can certainly see how Twilight would  appeal to hormone- enraged, pubescent girls and boys; and sure, to each his own. But to sum up, Twilight has been mentally and emotionally exhausting. I would barely consider this first installation of the series as adventure, but rather, romance. It was almost as draining as the Fifty Shades series, though instead of the redundant sexing, Twilight will give you so much flirtation you’d doubt if it’s legal.

THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA: Review

                        It has been since July 2013 that I have last read a novel (Bridget Jones’ Diary) that qualifies as, one of my mooooooost favorite genre EVER, *drum roll* chick lit! (yes, that was sarcasm) And so just for a palate cleanser, I set aside my dislike for chick lit and give this a wrongly- prejudiced quick and easy read... Though it wasn't a quick, and most definitely not an easy experience.

                       

                        The Devil Wears Prada, from the title itself, is mainly about a fresh- from- college Andrea Sachs who stumbled upon the shallow (according to her POV) world of fashion and has to survive her evil boss Miranda Priestly (ironic surname, if you ask me). Along the way of her sucking up to her boss, Andrea “unknowingly” made herself a stranger not only to her friends but also to her family. Throughout the novel, the main dilemma is whether Andrea would continue pursuing her dreams or FINALLY take action on her slowly crumbling social life. Sigh.

my facial expression in cat form whilst reading most part of the book.

                        For some reasons, I have found TDWP painstakingly difficult to finish. Proof to this claim is that I have managed to finish two novels (consecutively read alongside DWP) before I have managed to reach its last page.

                        

accurate illustration of my reaction upon finishing TDWP

                        Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that the author failed in conveying her message, or perhaps tried too hard in doing so. In fact, the novel was both humorous while clearly stating its disapproval on the triviality of the so- called “Runway lifestyle”.  Now, what were these reasons that made TDWP hard to read?

                       

                        The internal dialogue in this novel is TOO. DAMN. MANY. And not just many, but also brimming with side- comments and “witty” analogy (i.e. seeing her boss’ dirty laundry would bring about two paragraphs worth of narration and whining). Long story short, Andrea Sachs is just too freakin’ talkative (inside her head) that I want to beg for her thoughts to stop. Just... Please.

                        

too bad I wasn't much of a religious person.

                        There were also instances wherein the events just felt repetitive, the dialogues redundant; there wasn't much character development (except for the protagonist. Though one would hardly call that "development") and towards the end you just feel as if you haven't "befriended" any of the characters yet. There's none of that "I'm-gonna-miss-you" feeling that I usually get after finishing a novel.

                        

but I gotta admit the outfits on the movie was effin- A.

                        Did I enjoy it? On most parts. Plot- wise, it was more than satisfying. But things just started to feel repetitive toward the end. Would I recommend this? To fashion- savvy people, definitely. To chick lit/flick- loving people, maybe. But to people looking for that intense and complicated slice- of- life readings, there are a LOT of better choices out there.