I made a new fwend: Michelle of su[shu]–(trust me, it still amazes me to know that this blog has readers and lurkers, haha)–and she tagged me for the Honest Scrap Blogger Award/Meme, woohoo. My first! So, thank you. :] Anyhoo, the rules:
- The Honest Scrap Blogger Award must be shared.
- The recipient has to tell 10 (true) things about themselves that no one else knows.
- The recipient has to pass on the award to 7 more bloggers.
- Those 7 bloggers should link back to the blog that awarded them
Here are ten true things. (I love that parenthetical true in the rules.) Can’t guarantee that no one else knows these, since I obviously blab a lot. So:
- My mother is to blame with all this reading, and book-loving. And I suppose she can blame her father, who I grew up with and is, in a way, my father too, haha. I grew up surrounded with books, as the oft-repeated phrase goes. I remember happy days in childhood where I had to curl into a ball because a better part of my bed had to be a book dump. Thanks, Mom. :]
- When I was 9, I wrote poems for two people, Brian and Kaye. Brian and Kaye were in a grade school courtship. I was classmates with Kaye, and she asked me to write a poem for her, to give to Brian. I did, and she signed it. Brian then approached me with the poem I wrote, saying he was scared to write a poem in return because there were so many big words he didn’t know, so he asked me to write a poem for him, to give to Kaye. This went on for a couple of months. I had grade school-level schizophrenia by its end. And no, the other never guessed that I wrote those poems, haha.
- I have four copies of Alice Hoffman’s Practical Magic (the movie with Nicole Kidman and Sandra Bullock’s based on this). I read that at 9 (lotsa things happened that year, huh), and it was my mom’s. I remember how, reading the first sex scene in the book, I felt betrayed. I mean, my mother knew about these things, and she’d never told me. I wrote about this feeling in a short story, and the line went something like, This is what the world has been keeping secret from us.
- More on writing and reading: When I was ten (or eleven?), I bought Alfred Yuson’s Eight Stories on a whim, my mother supplying the twenty bucks to add to my hundred. It was amazing. It made my wanting to be a writer more realistic, somehow. Sir Krip has been my Fiction professor twice now, as well as a workshop panelist, and an all-around mentor. I still dazes me when I think about it.
- I used to spelunk in BookSale and pick up books by authors I haven’t heard about. That is, I’d take books home with me on the basis of a cool title, a great blurb, an intriguing cover. I was more reckless then, haha. It’s also why I have such an overwhelming TBR LandMass. Still, it’s how I discovered Alice Munro and Ann-Marie MacDonald, and Carol Shields.
- On #03, I used to, because, well, now, I’m broke. College student, everyone. And more realistic. It breaks my heart seeing all the books I own that I’m resigned to never reading. (Which is why I’m looking forward to giving them away. If you’re interested, e-mail me, and I’ll give you a list.) In line with the whole “reading deliberately” resolution that has popped up in the book-bloggin world, well, I’ve been buying deliberately for about two years now, getting only books and authors I like reading, have a good feeling about, and preferably cheap, haha.
- Local titles I wish more people read/know about/READ: But for the Lovers, by Wilfrido Nolledo. Cadena de Amor and Other Stories, by Wilfrido Nolledo. Stories, by Kerima Polotan. Jungle Planet and Other Stories, by Lakambini Sitoy. Great Philippine Jungle Energy Cafe, by Alfred Yuson. Local authors, ditto:
- In 2007, A Lover’s Discourse: Fragments by Roland Barthes was always in my bag. I carried it everywhere, it was a veritable Bible. I’m a sentimental-romantic-dork that way. I have memorized passages, and can quote them at the smallest provocation, hahaha.
- I write in my books. There, I said it. (Now fielding battle-axes, several of which belong to my mother.) I blame Nicholas Basbanes for this. And Billy Collins, his poem “Marginalia.”
- Haha, I just remembered this–the first book I fell in love with and wished I had written was this teen-y romance that was probably owned by one of my aunts. I don’t remember the title, but the story goes, there’s this teen heartthrob, and he “runs away” from the fame, in the middle of the tour. A girl living in a farm finds him (she doesn’t know he’s a superstar at first and all that) and they fall in lurve. There are memorable scenes in a ferris wheel, and a fair, and gah I loved it so much, haha. (If anyone can help me with looking for this, well, please?) I remember I typed first half of the book, intending to pass it off as my own, hahaha.
Yep. Whew. I’m a talkative ninny, am I not? Anyhows, hope you enjoyed that, haha. I’m passing on this award/meme to the following people (apologies if you’d received this before, :p):
- Ash, English Major’s Junk Food.
- Aphazia, Rainbowrama.
- Blooey, Bookmarked.
- Carina, Nothing Spaces.
- Gnoe, Graasland.
- Honey, Coffeespoons.
- Elizabeth, Freaking Bookworm.
Happy reading, everyone. I need to go back to slaving over St. Anselm’s Proslogion. Eff it.