pitter patter

quite a number of people know this about me, but for those who don’t…it’s that i really am computer illiterate. which is why it took so long for me to work out this blog thing. i hate having to work with a computer, except perhaps when it comes to preparing powerpoint visual aids for SGD’s (as my subsec in med knows all too well how i obsess over those things). but then again i figured i should try to learn to love this mysterious thing called my laptop. and use it for things other than physio class. (which, i might add, is over,so i guess i have to pick a new subject to obsess about…pharma here i come…)

i’m a closet writer. meaning i write stories which i deem such an utterly useless waste of time so that nobody gets to read most of my work except a select group of people whom i feel comfy enough with to waste their time with my pile of drivel. you know who you are folks…

i’ve got a few stories that have been running around in my head for the past few months. for any decent writer out there, this would be good news. au contraire. i had desperately anticipated this summer vacation, hoping that all the free time i could finally spend on writing the BIG ONE, that story that shall be deemed more than an irrelevant pile of crap, that one piece that will move a reader to tears, transcend bounds and bring the reader to a heightened state of human emotion. and more importantly, that one story that will get published and hopefully give me an alternate career just in case this whole doctor thing doesn’t work out (hehehe, i’m joking on this last one).   

well, the problem is, for all that i have in plot ideas and characterization, i seriously lack in the actual execution. is it the summer heat that has driven the neural connections between my hands and brain (corticospinal tract, anyone?) into a complete creative torpor? why is it that i sometimes stay up late into the wee hours just fleshing out ideas for the characters and the lives that i create for them, sometimes even bursting into tears with this strange yet powerful empathy that i feel for them and their fate and yet cannot string the right words to weave a tale that will bring these ideas to life? there’s nothing more frustrating than a plan that is simply not coming into fruition.

writing is a frustrating hobby. and it’s quite hard for me because i refuse to write my stories using a computer. yep, that’s right. i do it the old- fashioned way. pen and paper. i wouldn’t do it any other way. also, the biggest challenge for me is the fact that i am so freakin’ OC (obsessive compulsive becomes me…i’ve had my childhood issues..) so that no sentence, narration or turn of phrase could ever be good enough. it takes me so long to write anything remotely good, and even then when i do get others to read…let’s just say i’m not the best person to handle rejection and critique ( but that’s a whole other topic…)

so why bother? because of this restless stirring inside of my soul…it’s really there, this part of me that wants to live a life more exciting than mine, to share what i know about life (i don’t pretend to be an expert though), to dream of things that i would never have done for myself. to challenge convetional views on women (hell yeah! feminism rules!) and to say things i have oft hesitated uttering myself. 

true, i’m not the best writer out there, but hey, it’ll save me thousands of bucks’ worth of therapy!! who knows, i might get it right this time and actually expand my readership to more than four people. =)