“作家的人很怪。你也开始有一点怪了。” (If you can read this, let’s high five.)
Translation: “Writers are very weird people. You’re starting to be a little weird too.” That was something my mom once said last December because I was staying in all day while most people my age were strolling around in Orchard Road shopping here and there. Not that I didn’t try shopping at that time, but I just gave up on finding a new sling bag after my last worn out about three months back and replacing it with an functional one by walking around the city made no leads. I did find my bag eventually though, that was just last week. I chanced upon a bright blue $15 bag big enough to put a water bottle in, after getting out from my writers’ group in the Toa Payoh area. There, I found out, were rows of shops selling all kinds of stuff for miles at affordable prices.
The mantra ‘Good things come to you when you lest expect it’ applies even to shopping as well. One of things I recently discovered as a dollar-scrimper is well, you know the Kate Moss quote ‘Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels’? Guess what that’s a fallacy, a theory, a myth. Nothing tastes as good as a good looking, functional and economical bag bought at $15 when you’re trying your damn hardest not to spend too much at all, because you’re currently not working and waiting for polytechnic registration to open. It’s better than a luxurious cafe visit, although you don’t taste the bag unless you got some kind of nutrient-deficiency motivated weird food craving.
My bag find aside, I was actually surprised that it took my mom so many years before she noticed I was weird. I don’t think I’m too eccentric myself, but weird-ness is probably why schoolmates gave me a wide berth in primary and secondary school. Now that I’ve grown, whatever weird-ness I have works in my favour. When you’re a kid and weird, it makes you a freak and hence an outcast. When you’re a young adult, your weirdness is perceived as a quirk, a somewhat outlandish indicator that you’re meant for greatness. As Melanie Martinez sings, “All the best people are crazy.” One doesn’t need to be a Mad Hatter to be eccentric.
I don’t really do much writing myself these days, apart from maintaining this blog of mine. By now most people probably think I write diligently on a regular basis on the original story idea revolving around my dream sequence, Kevin and Melrose(Note: Not the KevinxMelrose series I currently release here)- since I have one long stretch of time before I even apply to register for courses next month.
Truth is ideas for the first draft is proving elusive. I have an idea in my head eons ago but it’s clear to me now I need to think up fictional marriage dynamics or I risk falling flat on my own literary plans. I’ve learnt from my first attempt at a novel-ly thing on Wattpad, so I’m going the long way round.
In the quest for references and research, I have put myself through reading genres I mostly won’t care about (thriller section on Wattpad) and until two days ago, reading an entire copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul:Married Life which I had the privilege of coming across at my local library. Up until the early morning I finally finished it I questioned my own existence everyday whenever it entered my mind that I have to read the entire thick thing to get a glimpse of what makes individual marriages tick (answer: a indecipherable variable) in order to get a gist of what my own fictional married couple needs in order to be three-dimensional and alive in their own literary realm.
As far as weird goes that’s only second place to looking at Orro, Tiffany and Co., Goldheart jewelry to look at wedding rings which represents Kevin and Melrose the best. I don’t even know why I wanted a pictorial reference for their wedding rings, that sure as hell wasn’t learnt from any writers’ meets or workshops.
I guess everyone does weird things while getting around to writing particular stories and this is just me.