The Tolkien Gods Have Answered My Prayers

“Minlû pedich nin i aur hen telitha.”

Ever since I was twelve years old, I’ve been a fan of everything Tolkien. I blame it on my dad who introduced me to the whole world of Middle Earth. I’m probably one of the freakish few who have read each and every book written by JRR Tolkien and even took a stab at learning the Sindarin language.

When the Lord of the Rings trilogy came out, I was beyond stoked and thanked the Tolkien gods for putting Peter Jackson into this world. The movie series was a success and after buying and watching the extended versions of the trilogy (over and over again!), I suffered from major Tolkien diarrhea.

After waiting for so long, the gods decided that it was time to bring Smeagol and the gang back. Yes. You got that right. They’re finally going to film The Hobbit with Guillermo del Toro at the helm–and being a huge Hellboy fan, I have high hopes for this movie’s success.

Though unlike the trilogy, The Hobbit is set to be shown in two parts due to some cobbling of supplemental material that bridges The Hobbit with the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Which is why Aragorn will be in the movie even if he was never mentioned in the actual book.

To add to all this deliciousness, Howard Shore has signed up to create the musical score for The Hobbit! After grabbing a copy of the Complete Recordings of the Lord Of The Rings soundtrack to adjunct my existing library of Tolkien music, I was practically on my knees, overwhelmed by the strength of the original scores. Shore has managed to take people straight into the heart of Middle Earth with his music. I can’t wait to grab a copy of the The Hobbit OST when it finally comes out.

Froggy, Janz, MelRo and Michelle are going to flip when they find out about this…

And now that I’ve exposed myself as the geekiest girl on this side of the planet, I can now go back to writing my book and hope to the Tolkien gods for my own successful publishing run in the future filled with movie premiers, book tours, and the occasional Conan O’Brien interview.

Time To Hit The Brakes?

Writing has become a pain, like a thorn on my ass. The longer I sit on it, the more it hurts. Word-churning has turned into a back-breaking experience of numbing proportions. Too many adjectives. Too many adverbs. Too many nouns and pronouns. I’ve hit another rut. Is writing always this painful? Am I cut out to be a writer? Or was I meant to do something else?

When doubt begins to sink in, I know I’m no longer in that happy place. I strive and try my very best and yet, here I am blogging instead of finishing my book. The support is there. The inspiration, abound. But why can’t I go past a page? Maybe it’s time to take a quick break? Hit the brakes and refill the emptied tank? But there’s a deadline to meet. What then?

When the mind refuses to cooperate, divert and distract. Maybe a little photography will do the trick. We’ll see in an hour or so…

My Best Friends

I’ve been running out of things to say recently. Nothing noteworthy to write about. I’m trying to finish my book before my birthday, so word churning outside the novel is proving to be very difficult.

Over the weekend, I set-up a photo shoot for my best friends (a birthday gift for Clarissa) and I think it turned out much better than I expected (I’m a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to the things that I like doing).

For my readers who live in Manila–just email me if you’re interested to have a photo shoot with your friends or with your family (I do baby portraits too!). My rates are dirt cheap compared to other folks out there. Haha

Cheers to best friends and to identical clothes sizes!

Not Quite 23 Yet

For my birthday, I will give myself the best gift I could ever possibly give myself.

No. It’s not a pair of shoes or the latest chic handbag (though I have been itching to pay Furla a visit to see what new designs they have) and neither is it the new Audi R8 (a girl can dream right?), but GOALS that I have to accomplish no matter how much blood, sweat and tears I need to shed.

The day I turn 23, I will promise myself that within a span of 5-8 years, I should have been able to:

1. Attend and finish racing school

2. Publish two books and start a business

3. Travel to at least five continents

4. Stash at least $500,000.00 in my bank account

5. Build me a house atop the cliffs of Santorini

I think the first three are doable. The last two are very dependent on goal number two.

I say, cheers to human dreams and life goals!

Self-Imprisonmemt

Yikes! I’m stuck at home because of the sniffles… oh and because I told myself I needed to finish writing at least one chapter today. Tomorrow is a Monday and there’ll be no time for the book. Tsk. Tsk.

Oh and did I mention that I finally have my own “room”? For those who don’t know, I sleep in the living room. Yep. I don’t have a room to call my own–just a little futon bed in one corner in the living room with all of my stuff piled away in small boxes in the storage. Pathetic, isn’t it? Anyway, my mum decided to “wall off” the living room for me so I can have some little semblance of privacy. It worked out pretty well, if I might say so myself.

Last night, after all the furniture moving and a few tantrums from my mom and dad here and there, in my little so-called-private sanctuary overlooking the city, I realized something about myself that struck a cord in me. It made me go WOW and at the same time make me want to bash my head against the wall (or something similarly destructive).

I actually, still love the bloke–the ex that is. Like, really love him in spite of everything that’s happened (yeah, I can now see Rica, Froggy, Clarissa and Jan go livid). In some way, this is a good thing. I’ve finally stopped denying this simple fact of love, but at the same time, I am no longer hoping for any future with him (or am I?). I just love him, and maybe, I don’t really know, a part of me will always just love him. I can’t really be certain. I’ve never loved anyone like him before. Hell, this was my very first real adult relationship–so I’m grasping at straws here…

This is a new kind of acceptance for me, the kind that is no longer riddled with so much hate. I’ll be less cranky and tired, I guess, though I know I shouldn’t be feeling love either. Maybe I’m just lonely and need company (no, not in that kind of way!). Maybe I just need more sleep. Maybe someone needs to slap me. Who knows? I’ll try all three over the week and see if these strange thoughts and feelings go away.

Any takers?