I have been VERY productive today. I wrote lots of stories, on my RI foolscap no less (I love RI foolscap, it’s so abundant and easily attainable, and already hole-punched!)! Now I just have to type them out and pick some for the portfolio. OK summary of what I’ve written, plus ideas that have potential to become stories.
Sort of completed
-The Mistress [it’s about maid abuse, from the maid’s perspective for most of it. But maid wins the trial and ends up getting the upper hand. Also playing on the opinion that maids like to get unworthy boyfriends. The maid has a lawyer boyfriend that defends her in court. Yeah that’s kind of like a twist :|]
-One People [football. Satire. Singapore wins the World Cup, but I make many allusions to famous players in their team, and about how Singapore, with their team of foreign talent stars, can win the World Cup. Football is not THAT universal a topic and I may not choose to include this in portfolio.]
-Pornography [very short story. Mother gets phone call, her friend is crying because her son surfs porn. Then mother gets worried about her own son, who is in the comp room doing god-kn0ws-what and making suggestive sounds (or at least, that’s what I wrote). In reality the son is just playing a game. Yeah. It’s kinda lame, but the suspense and gravity of the situation makes it slightly funny.]
-Heartstrings [emo love poem]
-Uncle Mooty Show Theme Song [evidently, lyrics, not a poem per se. It’s a stupid song meant for kids aged eight and below. It RHYMES! Chorus goes like this:
And it’s the Uncle Mooty Show!
We wanna learn and wanna know!
We wanna go in and go there!
We wanna conquer everywhere -HO!]
Other stories already written previously (to be refined)
-ESPLANADE CHEE [Highlight of my portfolio! Not sure how to add this in, since a novella doesn’t really count as a short story, yeah? And it’s not even COMPLETE. Blah.]
-Comparison [Reflection on intelligence. Christmas party, protagonist is this genius GEPper who has a Down’s syndrome cousin her age, female like her. At first she feels guilty as always, but they open the presents. She gets lots of books, cousin gets Barbie dolls and fun stuff. Then everyone asks her intellectual questions and neglect her feelings. So she feels depressed and jealous of the retarded cousin. Whee! Depression!]
– Technicolor [Inspired by Polish man waking up after 19 years in coma. It will be hard to write because it’ll be kinda sci-fi. But I plan to use this story to reflect on the many changes in today’s society, like how it’s too fast-paced and all.]
Okay. Minus “One People”, I have four potential short stories. I’m aiming for six to eight. Go me!
I just deleted all my MSN emotes! Now I’m not an irritating emote-using unfunny lame childish MSN user! I’m an irritating unfunny lame childish MSN user! WOOT. And I’ve also created a new WordPress blog specially for my poems.
Go forth and comment, kthx! (I have linked it under mootblogring for posterity.)
Deal or No Deal makes FOOLS out of sane people.
There was a trailer. And this guy who deciding what number to pick.
Guy: 17’s a very sexy number.
Guy’s friend: Concentrate on the boxes, not the women.
Which is the stupidest advice you can give, because the boxes are merely represented by numbers, and there’s no way you can RATIONALISE which number’s the best to choose. Wouldn’t it be better if you had a guide on what number to pick, say, the attractiveness/sexiness of the model? Gee. It’s just a freaking gameshow, it’s obviously based on luck, don’t try to REASON with seemingly random meaningless numbers!
Oh, and it’s airing now. So…
Guy’s friend: 9.
Guy: I want 20.
Adrian says something.
Guy starts THINKING AND THINKING.
Guy: Hmm… 9… or 20…
Again, he was trying to REASON. Gee. There’s no point. Ok, in the end he picked 9, which turned out to be the $1, but um, that was just lucky! He’s not like Henry Sugar, of see-through-things fame! (Henry Sugar, written by Roald Dahl, one of my favourite writers)
OK. I just added poems to versed moot, so you betta go there and comment on every single poem! Or I’ll think you’re not a true friend. (and I might slit my wrist. I am insecure and need friends.)