There are many many ways to read text. Lit majors, you'll all be familiar with this.

But it sucks when most of the world doesn't understand how vague they are being.

For example:

"Do you like baby carrots?

Yes."


For most people, "Yes" is a perfectly adequate answer.

But for idiots like me who can see shifty eyes in God, "Yes" is not enough.


"Yes what?

Yes, I do." (irritated girlfriend)

This is how most of my conversations with Dad and my ex went. But I also come from a family of fucking grouches so really I'm not sure if it's me or them.

About the only advice I can give to anyone who aspires to be an editor (book, magazine or newspaper) is this:

First, beware of these writers or similar traits in yourself:

1) Can't spell straight or can't figure out grade school grammar. I've nearly stabbed my eye with a fork when dealing with these.

2) Cannot compose a sentence, let alone a paragraph, without leaving subject and predicate beyond shouting distance.

3) Cannot organise their thoughts, so that paragraphs (or even sentences!) one line apart seem like they were written with years in between.

4) Employ cliches, have no originality, or are completely oblivious to style.

5) Write in long paragraphs and sentences, taking their own sweet time to deliver a point - because who needs to put in commas when you can asphyxiate a reader into one.

Mind you these are minimum 'anti-attributes'. To be a successful working writer who can eke a living from their words, you have to be much more.

My best writers are those who have mastered tae-kwon-do (but using only their tongue). They can make anything relate to everything, and deliver two-word answers to any question that will knock out your daylights, or at least your teeth.

That's what you'll eventually be, Ms Evie Wonder. You're gonna be my first protege. Knock them dead. Uh, no pressure.



In other news, last Christmas I took a picture of a potted plant that my fan club gave me.

Later on in January, me old man gave it some fertiliser coz he thought it help it have more flowers when CNY came around, even though it (i didn't name this one) was pushing them out at a rate of 3 or more a week. He just couldn't leave well enough alone.

Don't fix things if they're not broken.

So anyway the plant went and promptly died, and I thought it was my neighbour who did it (she often does nice things for us for no reason).

I asked if there was something he could do to save it, and he said he'll repack the soil with fresh earth.

Here it is, just barely a month and a half after.

He had started off with one or two tiny leaves and now its growing flowers again.



Dad is so awesome.

I am glad, because I wanna do a garden magazine someday. Looking forward to it!