I can't even put into words how shitty the writing is. Such shitty writing makes me fucking depressed that the "writer" that produced said shitty writing is a fucking bestselling author. Get the fuck out. It's like how the Twilight author is able to sell as many copies of her badly-written fanfiction despite having no writing ability. I suppose it's also like someone like Britney Spears being a highly successful "singer" without having any singing ability.
From what little I've read of the first Sookie Stackhouse novel, the standard of writing resembles something that I used to produce when I was 12. Charlaine Harris can't even get her tenses consistent in the first page of the book (who's more culpable: the author or the editor?). Read on to the second page, and the consecutive one-sentence "paragraphs" are just begging to be re-written into a coherent and cohesive paragraph. And of course, a paragraph later, the author once again demonstrates her allergy to correct tenses with inconsistent tenses in one bloody sentence. The ONLY good thing about the publication of this first book in the series is that Alan Ball picked it up and turned it into True Blood.
I get that there are a lot of undiscerning philistines out there who just want an easy escapism novel with which to entertain themselves. On second thought, actually, no, I don't get it. I don't get how anyone can read such drivel without feeling as though his IQ has dropped significantly, or as though he's fast becoming illiterate. I don't get it. I can't remember the last time I read any popular fiction...perhaps in secondary school. But at least I never read anything by "writers" who basically detail their pathetic sexual fantasies on print and sell them as stories. Isn't that what the Sookie Stackhouse novels are, essentially? Isn't that what the Twilight books are? Fucking pathetic. I'd rather be unhappy as a soulless lawyer for the rest of my life than to be earning millions writing absolute shit that even I won't pay any money to read.
Speaking of being a soulless lawyer, I'm happy to announce that that stage of my life is over, at least for now. My last day at the firm was 3 August and I'm currently having a pretty good time doing, well, absolutely nothing.
No doubt it's slightly scary not knowing where I will be a month later; it also sucks a bit not having money to spend; and it would probably have been wiser to stick it out for a year more. But I don't regret this at all. If I were to speak of regret, I might have to go back to 2005 when I decided to go to law school; but I won't go there, at least not today.
The day after my last day I found myself sinking into a bit of a funk, almost as if I was at a loss of what to do with all this time that I suddenly find myself having. Despite hating my job unreservedly, I did manage to meet a few good people, some of whom I'm even able to call my friends. Even more simply, though, the job inevitably became a routine that I adhered to five times a week. Being without it quite suddenly, despite 3 months of mental preparation, and not having a next lily pad to jump to, was almost disorienting.
I promptly recovered on Friday though. This post would have been quite different in tone if I had bothered writing on Wednesday night, or even anytime on Thursday. On Thursday, I drove home from a tennis session that never was, listening to David Cook's Goodbye to the Girl on repeat - it's the best song on his sophomore album; it also has mildly suicidal undertones. I felt that it fit my mood perfectly.
Whatever it is, I'm just going to focus on doing the things that I like (e.g. writing, my boyfriend) and the things that I've been putting off (e.g. cleaning my damn room). And I will try not to squander it too much on useless things, like mindless computer games and whatnot.
I must say, though, that the hardest part about leaving was Mag. It doesn't make any sense but it felt somewhat like I was leaving her behind. I had to turn off my sentimental side as I carried my things out of the room and left the office for the final time with her (she helped tap me out). In a way, I'm glad that I took until 8.15 p.m. packing the room and getting rid of my stuff; it seemed fitting, somehow, that I spent my last day with her in the stuffy office, laughing over silly things, and there was mostly no one around but me and her.
I would not have lasted a month in that place without her. Having her there, to talk to, to complain to, to have lunch with, to buy dinner with, to laugh with, helped keep me sane and kept me going. It says a lot about how much I really hated the job when even sharing a room with my best friend wasn't enough to make me stay. But I'm still so thankful that I had her there. This past year has been but a mere chapter in our friendship; I take comfort in knowing that, no matter where life takes us both, we'll always have each other.
Edited to add:
Omg this song from primary school is so awesome!
I remember Yun Shiuan used to like this band. Haha.