My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult

I watched the movie version of My Sister’s Keeper and I was trying to shake off the image of Cameron Diaz playing a suburban mum in my head while I was reading this. Growing up watching her wrestled with Julia Robert in My Bestfriend’s Wedding and getting hitched with Ashton Kutcher in What Happened In Vegas really changed my view on her capability as an actress when she played a family-oriented role. Through out the book I was trying so hard reminding myself Sara is not Cameron Diaz. As the reading went on, and I was trying to get Picoult’s style of writing, I finally got her rhythm. Oh ya, did I mention this is my first Picoult’s book? I’m a late bloomer when comes to modern lit.

Imagine having to know a story from different views. How Picoult illustrated the words of a 13 year old kid, or a rebellious young adult to a father working as a fireman with the love of astronomy is impressive if not down right intelligent. Every character has its own unique point of view. When you are feeling sympathetic toward Character A and loath toward Character B for what he had done to Character A, your whole perception changed when you read Character B’s mind. I don’t want to be a spoiler for someone whe haven’t read the book. Still there’s one character’s part I skipped a lot because for me it was written more than it should be. If I may put my two cents.

So now, let me do some quoting from this book. Phrases that left its mark on me.

“Why do you think I had to learn to act so independent? I also get mad too quickly, and I hog the covers, and my second toe is longer than my big one. My hair has its own zip code. Plus, I get certifiably crazy when I’ve got PMS. You don’t love someone because they’re perfect,” she says. “You love them in spite of the fact that they’re not.”


I realize then that we never have children, we receive them. And sometimes it’s not for quite as long as we would never expected or hoped. But it is still far better than  never having had those children at all. 


There should be a statute of limitation on grief. 


I cannot help but to agree with the last quote.

Image

Uninspired

I think the worst feeling a writer could feel is “uninspired”. 

I hate this feeling. I hate the fact that I cannot form a proper beautiful sentence in my head. I hate it I can’t find beauty in anything that I see. I hate being uninspired.

 

Blessed Sacrament. Beach, ocean, sea, water, a cup of coffee, raindrops in the morning, cool morning breeze, foggy weather. These inspire me the most. Maybe I should order one of these. I 

Another month came by and I haven’t finish any chapter since the first chapter. Every chapter that I wrote so far is left hanging. 

I hate being uninspired. 

 

 

What would the Bronte sisters think?

Someone posted on Facebook; one of those photos with quotes or funny jokes on it. But this one said, ‘Smart is the man who can earn a lot of money, smart is the woman who can find one.’ It is not the exact words but the meaning is more or less the same.

When I first read it, I don’t know what to make out of it. There are women out there who unceasingly fight for their rights, equality with men and then there are some of us just prefer to sit down and wait for the men to feed us. I come from a traditional Kayan family. Kayan is one of many native tribes in the land of Borneo. I consider myself to be traditional since I speak my mother tongue and practice the ‘do’s & ‘don’t’ of any Eastern culture. But one thing that I realized divides my parents upbringing from other typical Asian family is my parents hardly mention marriage. My siblings and I are raised as Catholics so marriage is highly regard as a sacrament rather than a license to ‘legally’ consummate your relationship in the eye of the government, society and God. My parents never pressured us to get married and have children but my own self who worries that one day I might grow old alone with 21 cats.

The Bronte sisters had to publish their books in fake names because female writers were not easily being accepted in the past and now we have women who comfortable being known as someone’s Mrs rather to be known as their own names. I’m not a feminist, I assure you. Maybe I am saddened by the situation or just disappointed with my fellow women. Women who are just wait around, doll up, and flirt around hoping to score a well off man for a husband. Who am I to judge right? If they devout their lives to be the greatest mums whose children become a prominent figure in society, like a president, scientist, teacher bless their hearts! St. Monica must be with them in prayers. But to eye a man just based on the balance of his bank account is repulsive to me. Wealth and fortune are blessings that easy to find but hard to keep. Compassion, respect and honour that come out from a man nowadays is even harder to find let alone to keep! I’m so proud with women who know what they want in life and couldn’t care less what others might think. For example, someone who can say to the society, ‘I want to be a soldier and I happy to be one.’ To be someone who is not confined by the expectations of society. I’m not living in a the Bronte sisters era but I might as well have. Telling to the world that I long to be a writer coming out from a girl whose first language is not even English is like a sheep telling to its herd it want to be a cow.

The whole point of my rambling is it’s disturbing for me to focus your life just to find a man to provide for the rest of your life. Where is the love and passion in that type of relationship? Is it ‘Till broke do us part’ for these people? Or ‘Till unf***able do us part’? As what I said before, who am I to judge. I don’t want to come out like slamming any wives out there. I don’t mind to be called as someone’s wife someday. If only the Bronte sisters were alive in the 21st century, I wonder what they would think.