2011 . . . Goodbye . . .

My last accomplishment for the year.    

I'm rather proud of it. As for what Sky Painter is about, well, go check one of the pages on this blog which I finally made viewable.  P.S. It's not very coherent.
So, what accomplishments do I have for this ending year?
Firstly, I have five followers for my blog. It's few, but still, it's a good number.
In Inkpop, I've gotten more friends. I'm also going to start a blog with one of those friends soon!
I must say, this blog has enough views. 200 plus, and I'm satisfied.
And I've done a good short story, if I do say so myself! (All it needs is editing.) For those in Inkpop. beware of Our Secret Place!
In Tumblr, well, I've discovered how cool it is.I've even gotten a Christmas gift for a teacher by editing a pic I found there. Heck, I even got the idea for Our Secret Place by Tumblr! For that, I salute you, Tumblr.
But if I could use a word to summarize this 2011, it would be discovery.
I discovered Inkpop, and along with that, I found friends.
I discovered the GCG, our school's unofficial writer's club/group.
I discovered the wonders of Picnik and a very small bit of the headache that is named Photoshop.
I've given you the top 3 discoveries I love best about this year. The rest, well, I have to have something for myself.
But over to you, what did you love about 2011?

Time is fleeting, and this is my last say for the year 2011.

OSP Version 1

Originally, Our Secret Place was written using past tense verbs. But now, I've changed it to present tense verse. It seems more suiting to sad stories. And so, to keep it as a remembrance, I post the old version here.

I stepped on the soft soil of the path silently, as to not disturb the singing birds. A seemingly endless expanse of leaves and branches arched over me, gaps allowing soft beams of sunlight to fall through.
    I loved the forest best during fall when the sun was setting. Sometimes, at the right place, it seems like King Midas's cursed fingers has touched the leaves, and a bit of the gold had spread down. At other places, it seems like the leaves were made of fire, bathing the ground with a rosy glow.
    But right now, it was spring. It was a green canopy that hung above me, not a canopy of so many brilliant colors. I don't hate green, but the autumn leaves always seemed to be more beautiful to me, even when they fall.
    Falling. Before, I have never realized that you could feel like you were falling. Now, I know what it feels like to fear every second, every second that might bring me lower. My heart makes me a nervous wreck and it's made of the heaviest material possible, bringing me even lower. No one will help me; they can't help me. I'm not sure if the only who can stop my fall will help me.
    My heart feels like it's been wrung so many times. Whenever I think of him, my throat tightens. And now, my grip on my black umbrella loosens and it nearly drops to the ground.
    It was a strange notion to bring an umbrella. It wasn't raining and it wasn't that sunny at all. I brought it because it brought back memories. I could remember when we would go to this forest, and we'll pretend we were fairies. I was a queen who always wore a white dress and had an umbrella while he was my servant who had a strange fondness for hats. Sometimes, it was the other way around.
    I smile sadly. Even now, when I feel like crying because of him, I could still smile. Just because he has changed doesn't mean my memories have. They may be now bittersweet, but they would always be  there, moments when everything seemed to be perfect.
    I guess that only happens when you're a child.  
    With each step, I feel more reluctant to go to our meeting place. I don't know if he has forgotten about our promise. I don't want to hear him say that Valerie is the most important thing in his life. I don't want to listen to his reason for bring Valerie there.
    I'm torn. I don''t want to face him, but the hurt won't start to fade until we talk.
    Dilemma. That word is what suits my predicament best.
    My head was bent towards the ground. Dilemma. I remember a time when he and I was in a quiz bee, and he won because I left out one "m".
    Every single thing in my mind always has to concern him and only him, doesn't it?
    I stray from the path and step under the cover of the trees once I see the tree with a broken heart carved on it.
    A broken heart. How fitting.
    Noise was inevitable. There was the occasional sound of a twig broken by feet and some birds flying away. Up ahead, I could see the trees starting to part.
    I step out into a clearing, a random assortment of flowers poking their heads out of the grass. In the center was the remains of a cut down tree. Coincidentally, it had been shaped into a crude heart.
    I was now here. It's beauty couldn't distract me when the mere sight of a tree can. That was because this was a part of the cause of my pain.
    Being here just sapped my strength. On wobbly legs,I went to sit on the trunk, my fingers fumbling to close the umbrella. Once there, just dropped the umbrella and wrapped my arms around myself.
    I felt so cold. So very cold inside.
    I didn't have any time for self-pity or any more sadness because I sensed his coming. I didn't hear him, but somehow, I just knew he was there.
    And I was right.
    His hands were in his pockets. He stood under the cover of the trees, shadows dappling his fair skin. I couldn't see his eyes properly, and his brown hair nearly matched the brown of the tree trunks'.
    My mother once told me eyes were windows to the soul. A window works two ways, and I could only wish I could see what emotion lied within his,
    I expected myself to feel even colder once I saw him. I wasn't prepared for my strength returning, even if my legs were shaking. But I was in good condition to fight this battle.
    That was what I hoped.
    I don't know how long did it take for him to take a small step. But he did. The wait nearly shattered my confidence.
    His voice was low. "Mia."
    That did it. The fact that he didn't use his nickname for me immediately brought down my wall of courage and Fear started to march in.
    I looked into his eyes. They were as black and as unfeeling as stone. 

 No copying!

What Else Can I Do this Christmas?

A Christmas tree made with books; neat!

*This post is only applicable for the members of GCG. Offer up until to December 28.

Ahh, Christmas. The time when all the shops hold sales and people cram into the malls.

By this time, I'm sure your Christmas tree is just loaded with presents. (Lucky you. Our Christmas tree is broken and we still haven't bough a new one. Christmas isn't Christmas without a Christmas tree.) 

And now, I have come to the topic of this post: presents.

Yes, presents. Strangely, I feel like giving. And so, I spent some time thinking what else can I give. And I have finally figured tit out.

I'll give some constructive criticism to some of the people in the club.

I've gotten better with he criticism ever since I came to Inkpop. I call it the Inkpop effect. And I've decided to read some stories and make my critique as a gift.

I might not be the best critic, but hey, I'll give your story a read. For free.

(This offer is only for the first three to ask.)

How to get my free read/present:

1. Take a look at this blog post. That way, I know you actually look at my blog posts.

2. Place a comment on the post in Facebook. If you don't comment "bump", your request won't be counted.

3. Once three people have commented on the FB post (they must have commented "bump"!), I'll ask you for the story you want me to read.

Everyone would get the same thing. A read on every chapter on the story of their choice, with a critique. That way, it would be equal and fair. 

Oh, and the story? It can be one of theirs or a friend's, on Inkpop or Wattpad.

Merry Christmas! 

P.S. Alex, since you said you look at my blog posts, just comment anytime. Even if you're the fourth, I'll read any story you ant me to read. Besides, I owe you a gift anyway.

I Talk About Bullying and Suicide

Thirteen Reasons Why.

It's seriously an eye-opener.

Suicide is no laughing matter. And it's certainly no joke when someone dies-especially if they take their own life.

Before I continue, here is the summary, taken from Goodreads:

Clay Jensen returns home from school to find a mysterious box with his name on it lying on his porch. Inside he discovers thirteen cassette tapes recorded by Hannah Baker, his classmate and crush who committed suicide two weeks earlier.

On tape, Hannah explains that there are thirteen reasons why she decided to end her life. Clay is one of them. If he listens, he'll find out how he made the list.

Through Hannah and Clay's dual narratives, debut author Jay Asher weaves an intricate and heartrending story of confusion and desperation that will deeply affect teen readers.

"Heartrending" and "deeply affect" alright. If you have read the book, you'll understand.

What's such a shocker (to me) is how things mindlessly done drove a girl to suicide. It seemed small and insignificant when it looked like Hannah was still optimistic and such, but it was so sad to see how those "small" things made Hannah's optimistic nature fade.

Personally, I hate bullying. to those who were never at the receiving end of such a thing, be grateful. You've never realized how it is to feel unwanted.

Even now I feel unwanted. And if I want to point a finger at someone, then I would point it to a tall, skinny, basketball player with the goofiest smile I've ever seen, along with the habit of shouting "Loser!" whenever I make some mistake that certainly won't cause anyone to die.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm really pissed with that guy's attitude. I always  have been, but now, more than ever. As I said, suicide isn't a joke. a person won't walk on this earth anymore, a family will have to deal with grief, a desk would be empty, and don't forget using "was" instead of "is." Along with people looking back at the past thinking "What if I had done something to help her/him?"

So please be careful of your actions. On the surface, that rumor you started or that prank you pulled might be shrugged off as harmless. But you can't know how deeply it would affect the victim.

Suicide is no joke, and your joke probably might not be one.

Look at This!

Look the signature at the bottom of this post.

It's a little trivial thing, but I somehow want to squeal!

This post is a really short one. To make it longer, I'll give a small overview of my life so far.

I've been borrowing a lot of books from the library.

School would be out soon. A bit later than the norm. (Seriously, school? Can't you follow other schools and let us out on December 16?)

I'll be reading The Magician for the holidays. Along with the rest of the series.

I got pissed over someone when he claimed I had a crush on someone. Total lie. I have never had a crush. and I don't plan to act like a blubbering fool anytime soon, thank you very much.

(The one thing that pisses me off the most is when people accuse me of having a crush on someone. I hate it so much when people do that,)

I've run out of things to say now. Told you  it would be short.

It's almost Christmas! (Look at my signature!)

Our Secret Place Update

Firstly, ta da! I love the cover I made for this; it's so suitable. I made it medium instead of small. Covers are one of those things I want to gloat over when I make them nicely. 

Secondly, to those who knew about Our Secret Lane, this is that story. 

Why did I change it? 

To begin with, the biggest problem I encountered was the reason for Mia (the main character) being upset over Dylan (the guy) and showing some lane to a group of his friends.

Thing is, it's public property. It's weird to make a whole length of a lakeside lane a secret place. (Reading what I just wrote, it sounds confusing. At least that's not important!) And how do you get offended by a person bringing another person to a lane? It lacked some sense of reason. If I went ahead and made Mia get mad over it, then she'd appear cuckoo.

And so, the change.

In OSP (Our Secret Place), the place is a meadow with a cut tree trunk in the center of the meadow. The trunk was cut so that it kind of like forms a heart. You can make a promise to never bring anyone else there, right? (Kids made the promise, so sorry for the corniness.)
I would have stubbornly stuck by the lane if it wasn't for browsing pictures. Which was all thanks to Boredom.

And now, for the summary:

He's the guy from my childhood. The guy who's my best friend, who I spent every birthday with, the guy in almost every memory I cherish.

But then, people grow up and change. Sometimes for the worse.

I remember the day we came to that beautiful meadow with the special cut tree trunk. We were still so young. I remember his promise that it would be ours, our little secret. It would be our hangout, our meeting place . . . we were supposed to bring no one else there.

Promises were meant to be broken. That's what he did.

So tell me, what do you think?
~S.G.C.~

A Journal (or Whatever) Entry

 December 4, 2011 (Sunday)

   Eeee! I'm positively happy today.

   It all started with waking up and knowing the iTouch was just within my reach. The fact that it wouldn't stop raining outside didn't dampen my mood.

   During the afternoon, while Sis was bonding with my laptop and I was involved in some game downloading, Mom told us to get ready to go to the mall. Dad was fulfilling his promise!

   The first stop was an optical store. The one we wanted (we just chose the store nearest the concierge) had an hour long checkup. But Mom sounded really pleased with what the woman was saying.  I didn't listen; spent time with my dearest iTouch!

   After that, lunch. Peking duck, rice with egg white (tasted incredibly amazing!), spinach soup, shrimp, and some dim sum. That covers our lunch.

   We stopped at Dimensione to go gift shopping! The club Christmas party is really near. Instead of making a bookmark, I took advantage of the moment and bought Atsi Yolly something practical and handy

.

   The best thing was the diary I snagged at Dimensione! Blue, glittery, with some stars  . . .  perfect for next year!

   Though the ending was sad. Next time, I shouldn't go into a bookstore knowing I can't buy anything; I'll end up leaving the bookstore heartbroken. It was agony to see Inheritance and Shatter Me and leave without them in a plastic bag. *sobs*

New Story: Our Secret Lane!

So, what's it about, you might ask? But first, take a look at this cover!

Ta-da! I'm really proud of it.

I came up with the idea when I was just looking around my Tumblr dashboard, and I see that picture, only without words. Then I go to Picnik to put the words. I find pictures in Tumblr, put something dramatic to make it look like a cover, then put in Photobucket. That's how I practice cover making. Also, it's kind of nice to do something productive when I've got nothing to do.

Anyhow,  I came up with Our Secret Lane to put on the image. And today, I was looking at Tumblr again. And then I remember that picture, and suddenly -- bam!  I wanted to use it as a cover.

I'm glad Picnik allows you to change your edits in your photos, because Photoshop annoys me when I can't change the color of this text or something. But this time, I didn't need to use it!

I'm glad I made it Our, not My. It gave me the idea that the guy betrayed the girl by giving away the big secret place. The place where a girl could relax and escape the clutches of mayhem that is available 24/7 that could be easily found anywhere. (If only happiness could be like that . . .  *grumble*)

As for summary, still don't have an official one. But I can say it wouldn't be a happy story. And I forgot to mention it's a short story!

And here's the original picture. 

It's going to be Christmas soon! Eep!

~S.G.C.~

A Journal, Diary, Etc. Entry

November 29, 2011 (Tuesday)

   Being sick isn't a treat. Vomit makes it worse.

   On Sunday, I was sickest. I didn't want to move  and I didn't have any appetite. On Monday, I was better, but still had a little fever. And even though today I didn't have much of an appetite, I'm fine!

   Dad returned from China yesterday. Today, he gave us our souveneirs: bags. Yes, bags. Small sling bags. But the bag I want now (the first one is the cat one which I own, and the other is a striped one, which I want) is to be give to someone else! Shame.

   But then, it's about cheerful giving. Remember that, me. If you have something nice (and it is nice!), don't complain. Other people have nothing.

   Tomorrow's a holiday. as much as I'd love to use it for writing, I'll have to study. My promise to my parents some first!

I, as the writer, can certify that certain sections of this journal, diary, etc. entry has been modified.

My Woes of Being the Only Girl in a Group

My woe started a week ago, on Thursday. To be precise, November 17.

It was our Social Studies class, and people were choosing other people to be in their group for the project. (We have to make  an eggshell picture of a national symbol and write a poem of nationalism. Do it on a 1/8 illustration board.) As more and more people got into a group, I just sat in my chair, reading To Kill a Mockingbird with a pounding headache. Naturally, I gave up reading.

All my negative feelings started when I realized when I still didn't have a group when 99.99999% of the class already had a group.

I was used to being a loner. I spend more time with books than I do with "organic life forms". (aptly put, Hephaestus) But there were random moment like this when I feel so hurt that people are fond of not oticing me at all.

This picture just suited my feelings at that time.

Do you know, what it's like, to be UNWANTED, huh? Do you, DO YOU?  If not, then I can assure you, you have a very blessed life. *spiteful*

Ahem. Sorry for ranting a bit.

Anyway, I couldn't be left alone, (it is a group work) so my teacher somehow managed to get me into a jerk's group. And none of them have the essential artistic skill! And somehow (I had a headache at that time, remember, and I was just in my chair massaging my forehead) I got into an all-guys group. and again, none of them can't paint.

It wasn't a nice Thursday.

I was so frustrated for the whole weekend.

During the course of the next week, we planned. To use the correct term, we tried to plan. We couldn't decide on what to paint, and most of those discussions lasted for five minutes. We decided on the national bird on Thursday.

Yesterday, Friday, did I start making a poem.

And that is how last week was for me.

The national bird. Kinda look wise, doesn't it?

A Discovery!

So, yeah. That's the logo of my discovery.

Yarny is a really nice place to type. Sure, it may still be in beta, but I like the simplicity of the place. No fancy fonts, no worry about forgetting to save, and absolutely no need to worry your little brother discovered that little piece of work-in-progress that you're so protective of. 

Here how Get Yarny describes it: (Get Yarny and Yarny are totally different.)

 A simple to use online writing environment for the high-production, creative writer. Write the way you want to write, using any approach you like in a simple, distraction-free environment. It's novel writing in the cloud.

Sounds good? 

Also, it's all for free. Typing space (with word counter, if that is something that might make you say "Uh-huh") and backup for your documents, all for free. So when your little brother messed with your laptop and it went all AWOL, and while you're in the middle of strangling you're brother because you had an oh-so-important paper to pass tomorrow, you can always remember you copy-pasted it on Yarny.

Yarny was clearly meant for writers. after you typed a few words, everything else except the page fades away, leaving you alone to keep writing.
So, want to try it out here? Tell me what you think!

And just for fun:

Why Did I Make A New Blog?

So, just in case you people new me and my old blog, By S.G.C., you might be wondering why I deleted it.

For those who don't know, it was a site for book reviews, only I changed the concept. I blogged about the ten things I loved about the book.

I deleted it since I couldn't really read all the "in" books. I mean, I live in the Philippines! It wouldn't work out.

So this blog would all be about my life. I'll try to make it interesting! :)