lacrimae rerum

Today I returned home from another awesome day out (I rarely spend my days off at home these days, it seems; friends and family are all clamouring for my time. I feel loved.) and was placing my necklace and earrings back in one of the tiny drawers I keep my [numerous] accessories in, when I noticed something that most of the contents seemed to have in common.



I was wearing that long necklace of polished garnet chips, those red-and-brass earrings, and that red-and-beige wooden bead bracelet with a red tartan hair scrunchie and glittery red hairband, a figure-hugging red blouse, a long ochre skirt with a few flowers embroidered in red and green thread and with red tartan on the hem, and very dark red shoes. And even my pottu was dark red and gold. GUESS WHAT MY FAVOURITE COLOUR IS. XD

So, in the morning I met Vatchala, an old friend of mine (she's seven years older than I am and used to be one of my mum's favourite students years ago; she became a family friend :D) for some delicious brunch and catching up. Awesome food, awesome company. <3 We need to meet up more often! :D

Later I went to Gena's house so we could work on our appeal letters for the universities together. We only got a little bit done, though. >_> Then we packed up and went to another friend's (Liying) house. Gena and Liying are singing at some charity performance to raise funds for dyslexic kids, so they were practising; they're really good singers. Alvie joined us later and we had lots of fun. :D

On to the book meme!


( 16. Adaptation: What book would you most like to see made into a film? Do you like to read the book first or see the film? Any books you have read after seeing the film version? )


( 17. What is the most difficult book you’ve ever read? )


( 18. Your favourite book series & your favourite book out of that series )


( 19. Your favourite picture, junior fiction and Young Adult books )


( 20. Least favourite plot device employed by way too many books you actually enjoyed otherwise )

Now to read some fanfiction minselding  has sent me. :D

Aargh. My A Levels were finished at the end of last November and I have a break until university starts much later this year. I'd been looking forward to this period SO MUCH last year, and planning what I'd do kept me going.

Now the months stretch ahead of me and I have so many things to do but just can't bring myself to finish them. Would the word ennui be appropriate? There are times when I just walk around the house, unable to motivate myself to finish any of my current projects or start a new one. None of them seem to appeal to me; sometimes they do but I don't feel like doing them anyway. When I'm on the computer, instead of writing or doing anything productive, I spend hours faffing about on Facebook or reading (in some cases, rereading) fanfiction.

Maybe a list will help. Things that are in progress will be italicised, things I've completed will be struck off.

( Reading )

( Movies/TV )

( Music )

( Writing/role-play )

( Craft Projects )

( Miscellaneous )


*stares at list* This is going to end up like that post-O Level list of mine, isn't it? Lakshmi and I wrote up a nice long list and we only did a few things on it. Sigh.

I finished reading Jane Austen's Mansfield Park yesterday and LOVED it! Pride and Prejudice will remain my favourite among her works (I grew up with that beautiful book) but I like Mansfield Park as much as Sense and Sensibility. Sadly, I'm still hunting down Persuasion, Emma and Northanger Abbey.

A couple of Sundays ago (I know, slow reading for me, but I had exams that just ended last week and thus couldn't read as much as I wanted to) my aunt, uncle and cousins came over. My aunt, who's the sort of fashion-conscious aunt who tries in vain to makeover her nerdy niece [me], saw Mansfield Park lying on the coffee table and picked it up, and the conversation went like this.

Aunt: Oh my God, Mansfield Park! So boring! Who's reading this?!
Me: I am. Jane Austen is nice! [defensively]
I don't think she heard that last bit because she was handing the book to my uncle.
Aunt [to uncle]: Mansfield Park! The most boring book ever!
My uncle flipped through, with me hoping fervently that he wouldn't open the book so wide the spine would be creased, and handed it back.
Aunt: You actually like it?
Me: Yeah, it's nice. 
Aunt: Well, I suppose you have to like it, if you do it for Literature...
I was confused; I didn't know she thought it was my set text for my Literature class.
Me: *blink* Literature? Why would I do it for Literature?
Aunt: My God! You mean you read this for pleasure?!
She couldn't have looked or sounded more shocked if I said I'd just opted to stay home and read while my family went off to Las Vegas or Disneyland or somewhere (not that I'd do that; I love travelling too). My dad was guffawing behind her.
Me: Yeah... I like Jane Austen...

Honestly, the look on her face was priceless!

But why would anyone be so shocked at someone reading Jane Austen? Especially someone who's known to be a bookworm?

I wish the classics, like the works of Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, Geoffrey Chaucer and William Shakespheare were more respected these days. I mean, everyone knows Jodi Picoult but no-one knows who I mean when I mention, say, Charlotte Bronte (I LOVE her Jane Eyre). I'm not saying Jodi Picoult is a bad writer, because, not having read any of her books, I can't comment. At the same time I'm not, like, against modern fiction. Mainly I love reading fantasy, like Tolkien, Lewis, Rowling, Pratchett, Meyer and so on. And Stephenie Meyer is definitey modern, as are JK Rowling and Terry Pratchett. But I also love the classics.

I went through what I now refer to as my 'chick lit phase' when I was fourteen. I obsessively read all the chick lit I could find in the library, and now when I look back at that period I sigh and think of all that wasted time.

Fluffy unrealistic romance, silly gratuitious rubbish full of women wearing branded stuff and getting drunk with girl pals and complaining about work and guys and sleeping around with so many guys and thinking nothing of it, people trying to be all 'deep' with commentary on society and stuff but just sounding ridiculous, high school drama with stereotyped teenagers (the popular b*tchy cheerleader, the nerd who turns out to be hot, the brace-wearing foreign musical genius, the hot guy - who's every girl's crush - who asks the heroine out only to be mean or try to go too far, the guy pal who's always there for the heroine, just waiting for her to realise that she loves him back, the best friend who's always hyper and into shopping...); I read them all. Why? I have no idea. That was also around the time I was trying to fit in, although I've since realised that I'm fine with myself and if others have a problem with that, too bad.

I did find a couple of good authors, though; Cecilia Ahern's Where Rainbows End and P.S., I Love You, and Preethi Nair's The Colour of Love, along with My Best Friend's Girl (I forgot the author of this one but it was GOOD) all reduced me to tears.

They don't just focus on the boy-girl thing; Preethi Nair also beautifully captured the way modern Indian society still restricts women, the way art is viewed, the struggles - internal and external - artists face, the way beautiful friendships can be formed and so on. I think that, being an Indian girl with an unconventional dream (author and archaeologist) it really resonated with me because of that.

Where Raindows End was unique in the sense that except for the epilogue, the entire story was told through notes, e-mail, IM and so on. Their friendship/love thing had me alternately going all gooey and yelling at them for being so oblivious, and the way the pattern was repeated with the female protagonists's daughter was so cute. As for P.S., I Love You, it's been made into a movie, so I don't think I need to summarise the plot. But all those sweet things Gerry did for Holly, like the advance booking of the trip before he died, had me reaching for Kleenex.

In My Best Friend's Girl, the title actually refers to the daughter of the [black] protagonist's best friend, and if I tried to summarise anything else I'd end up giving the plot away, but it's beautiful. I came across it when a classmate asked me to help her return it to the library, complaining that she didn't like it because it didn't contain gratuitious explicit sex like her normal chick lit. *eye roll* My classmates can be so freaking shallow. Doesn't anyone value plot or character development these days?




So anyway... for those of you who are Narnia fans, you'll probably remember my Narnia oneshot, Just King, which focuses on Edmund (click on the 'narnia' tag to find it). Edmund Pevensie is one of my favourite characters from The Chronicles of Narnia. Edmund is also the name of the cousin and love interest (Edmund Bertram) of the Mansfield Park heroine, Fanny Price. There was one scene, on page 213 in my edition, where Fanny and a friend, Mary Crawford, who also happens to like Edmund, are discussing him (ok, this sounds like some girl talk session, but Mary has no idea of Fanny's feelings and she and Edmund are almost engaged anyway) and Mary Crawford wishes Edmund wasn't just Mr Bertram, but Sir Edmund or something, and she complains that Edmund sounds very younger-brotherish (Edmund's elder brother, Tom, will be Sir Thomas soon). Fanny's reply made me laugh out loud, as it immediately brought to mind Narnia's King Edmund the Just. Here's the quote.

"... But there is nobleness in the name of Edmund. It is a name of heroism and renown; of kings, princes and knights; and seems to breathe the spirit of chivalry and warm affections."

A name of kings indeed. BTW, talking of Edmund, does anyone know how old Skandar Keynes (he plays Edmund Pevensie in the movie adaptations) is? If he's not 16 yet I'm going to feel extremely guilty. I mean, I don't like him the way I admire Johnny Depp and Robert Pattinson, but there is no denying he's grown up, and in terms of character in the Prince Caspian movie, he was way cooler than Peter and Caspian (he freaking handles his torch the way Aragorn handles his sword!). But I disliked the way they tried to commercialise it by casting a good-looking older fake-Spanish guy to play a golden-haired, blue-eyed boy who was supposed to be younger than Lucy (If movie-Caspian is ten as the book says, I don't know what the Telmarines are putting in the water). And the whole Susan/Caspian thing... Gah.

I should stop ranting now...