FREEDOM

I never thought of how I spent my younger years and if I was contented back then.

I was never denied the fun of being a child. I climbed trees, fell, got bruises, cried, ran and the liberty of being so carefree and ignorant. My parents did not try restricting me my freedom though I needed to be home before 6:00 in the evening.  

I knew I was a storyteller when I was 9. I had this super patient and hungry friend to listen to my stories, different stories every day, describing the characters and the events in vivid pictures while sitting on the side walk near a storm drain. When we turned 11 she had to leave and left my stories nobody to share with. Having all those stories inside my head, I had to drip them down and writing was the best alternative. Then I started writing.

During school time, I tried to excel with my studies although due to limited resources I was just part of the achievers but never topped the ranks.

My primary and secondary education was spent as a shadow of my affluent friends. My father used to tell me to avoid those kids because I couldn’t keep up with their whims provided by their well-to-do parents.

My parents worked as meat vendors in a public market in Kalibo, Aklan though we owned the space it was not a profession that I can brag about. I kept it a point not to introduce my parents to my classmates and friends as vendors but entrepreneurs instead.

My friends, if not having a parent overseas, they have a father for a banker, a doctor or simply born rich. I never thought I was crossing the line my father has invisibly drawn. I never understood his contradictions of the friendship I had with these friends.

My mother spoke less with this situation and I could not argue more. Their words were as solid as steel. Then I thought, it was very unbecoming of them but I tried to understand as much as my young mind could discern.

I never experienced Girl Scout Camping and sleepovers. I never got the chance to go to the movies not unless I got to write a film review for the movie “Schindler’s List” and “Brave Heart” and the rest of the movies I went to were knotted with lies as excuses.

Modesty aside, I was the best in some of the subjects I had in high school. But since I was not used to rivalries and I didn’t give high regard to myself, I shied away from the competition but still ended with flying colors.

As much as I wanted to avoid extra curricular activities in school to spare my parents the expenses, I couldn’t.  Instead of buying camouflage for CAT, my sister borrowed me one from her friend. That was no expense at all. But when I had to attend JS prom, my mother dragged me to the cheap beauty salon and had my brows plucked and my plain face tainted by make up. Whew! I looked like I aged 5 years more but nonetheless; I was so giddy and thrilled!

I knew dance and ball from Sweet Dreams and Sweet Valley books and never attended one so the prom was very promising. Before this dance, I was even turned down by my 1^st cotillion partner and had me practiced alone without any word, good thing another boy caught me before my crystal self-esteem be shattered totally. Yet rejection was something I dreaded to feel again and that started my walls to crawl up.

I lived through high school with just 2 pairs of uniform, 2 pairs of socks and a smiling pair of shoes. I wanted to dance like dance sports and other group dance contest but since I knew most of the hard earned money goes to food I tried tapping to the beat instead and be a spectator rotten on the bleachers.

Instinctively, mothers know what’s best; I was not thinking where to go after high school. I thought I would just be enrolling to the same school.  When I went home one afternoon in the middle of the last high school year, my mother handed me a form. I stared at it for so long. Written in bold: UNIVERSITY OF THE PHILIPPINES COLLEGE ASSESSMENT TEST FORM. There was panic inside me, then! I was so stupefied and the loud voice inside me was shouting on top of my lungs: “Where are we going to get the money?” I was thinking of the travel expenses that we need. We needed to endure a long trip with minimal resources at hand. I got the liberty to choose the courses I wanted. But reality slapped me, I had to pass the UPCAT first.

Some of my classmates who were consistently punching the honor roll were with me. I was not so confident again although I had fun due to the excitement and adrenaline the exam brought. I felt so loved and the confidence my mother gave me was more than enough to make my heart swell and do best in the examination.

My teachers were not so enthusiastic to give me the news that I passed receiving no notice yet. Probably because, I was the least to be considered if they based their assumptions through perceptions. It was my name which really bounced wall to wall. Some of my classmates on the roster of honors were not so pleased. In my batch, only 2 of us passed and another was short listed.

It was so overwhelming. Then the never ending travel back and forth Aklan to Iloilo took place. I never believed, the money spared hidden somewhere was counted laid on the bed to finance my enrolment, dorm and tuition fees.

I was oriented to a new life. Diversified lives. People from different places. Different cultures. Varied languages. And the fear of dealing with some people who held their ranks in the society.

I met fellow students who at their young age knew that they really have places in this society. I was a spectator once again. I eyed these adolescents with awe. When I was in my cocoon, these people have already explored the world, partially if not wholly, should I say.

The real fun of life begun when I was in college. I lived in a dormitory with male and female in coexisting world. I was oriented to the student society of the state’s scholars. I gained friends; I never knew I was capable of keeping. They had pointed my weaknesses and helped me stood on my grounds. I started gaining my confidence which was dormant for so long. I spent my allowances to leisure my parents had no knowledge of. They had held their hands up with whatever path I tracked.

I graduated after 4 years. I tried hard to finish college with a double major degree within 4 years because I knew how my family slashed on their budget intended mostly for food.

I worked my way up. I stumbled. I stood up again to be knocked down when I was 22. Got married, impregnated and gave birth all on the same year, 2002. I knew that I had inflicted pain on my parents  silent hearts but they never questioned my decisions. They gave me that freedom to choose and believed I was using my wit on these.

My friends were frantic back then. Screaming at me over the phone if I haven’t heard of pills. Jeez!

I lived an ordinary life. Peaceful and away from the busy hum of the corporate world.

When my daughter turned a year and a half, a very good friend argued with me over going back to work. I didn’t understand why my friends were making a fuss of me being a plain housewife.  I was obligated to edit my resume and emailed to my friend. Hola! The next day I got a phone call and the next day I was seated across my interviewer. The next day, I got a call that I was qualified for the job and would be starting in the next couple of days. And the drum rolled. All in a week’s time.

After a year I was promoted to man 6 people and my career went on and on.

I was introduced to a whole vast of society. People who worked their ass out to step up the ladder of the corporate world. I was once again, a wood, drifting away. I met the expectations of my superiors although I wasn’t so keen to be consistent. I juggled with my maternal duties and my career.

I bravely stood on my grounds for some of my beliefs. Volatile yet I firmly stomped on solid surface.

I never thought I was so hungry to be patted on the back not unless I had graciously swept the highest citation for a sales representative in our company. I never imagined that a simple recognition would concretize my self-esteem.

Never did I lift my brows just to declare that I was a winner. I was not. Probably because, I still was not sure if I was really that good.

I kept journals with me but I was not so enthusiastic on writing my emotions and tabbed on my daily activities. During the hardest trial in my family last year, when my father was battling lung cancer, I started to blog. Everything. Breaking emotions. Random thoughts.

And I faced the reality that this is what I really want. This is what I really wanted after all these years. I started with a novel, again. After several years, modern this time, I am not scribbling using pens and notebooks but typing words in my laptop. Words. Period. Sentence to paragraph to chapters and to unfolding pages.

Now, I realized, I had an amazing childhood, because the scarcity of resources had led me to be contented with a little of everything. I aimed to excel and to live lavishly but trying to perfect and steady each step before preceding to another path. I feared rejection ever since and I do not have a stable self confidence that’s why I savor every victory that I gain. I post challenges everyday and recollect each day if I have met my own expectations. I weighed my options and carefully made choices.

Sometimes, there were challenges I really couldn’t avoid, but rather dwell on it and watch my self-esteem shattered, I move forward and protect myself with my own walls.

I never wanted to grab the limelight from others as long as they do not rain on my parade. I worked hard to reach the summit of my self-esteem, not on the peak but I am going there, eventually.

Telling you all these, I believe, at a very young age we really have to nurture that self-confidence in us. Circumstances should not hinder us in developing skills and honing our talents some more in order for us to face the challenges of the crazy world, bravely.

I have a handful of dreams yet I have identified these when I already had folded 32 years of my life. I allowed fate to drag me to the pit of the unknown. I lost a  lot of years staying on the margin of the society when I could have done a change on my own precious way. Rejection still bites but I will never move forward if I permit it to nail me some more.

Being young and free will really provide you the unfathomable joy and experience yet if you start to contribute something to the society at an early age, the world will really be a better place.

I read recently that we really have to give a high regard to ourselves in order for other people give us the high respect we deserve. Poverty and circumstances should not hinder us to move forward, fast. My parents were not very good on pushing me to reach my potentials but they have given me enough liberty to explore my inner self and the world on my own. I may deny it, but somehow, they had been a great force that led me to where I am now.

My father’s death has kept the door wide open for me to delve into the opportunities laid on my foot. I just have to make the right choices.

As always, my parents, unknowingly, had given me yet the same immaterial gift.

Freedom.

First Part. Two: Voice

She blinked.

She hastily tapped the light switch to her left to flood the room with the fluorescent light.

She blinked again to adjust her sight and absorb the sudden rush of reality.

She was in her boarding house. In this 4x4 room with two double decked bed and she was lying on top deck of one of the 2 bunk double beds.

She sighed.

This has been so strange.

She recalled, this kind of occurrence only took place whenever there were some disturbing emotions she had.

Such as what happened today.

Luke.

There was a quickening beat of her heart.

She sighed again.

There was one time during her 13th birthday when a nephew of their neighbor tried to pass on her and she was so appalled to experience that tingling sensation. He touched her left growing breast and the surge of emotions she felt afterwards.

When she went home, she felt a strange force brewing inside her.

The boy was a pretty face and the content of the girls' talk in their area. He was 17, then.

Everybody was surprised when he frequently visited her and gave her chocolates and other teeny-weeny stuff.

She was amazed.

Bewildered yet happy.

Then there was some lapses in her memories.

She lost her mind for 6 months or she was told.

No one tried bridging the gap.

She just collected everything from a patched hole on their ceiling to faded shirt she gave to one of her cousins.

The last time she stared at the ceiling there was this hole where you could peer on the sun one eyed and the shirt was still new.

Where did her time go?

When she emerged back to herself, she just thought everything was normal.

She went back to school only to discover it was already another school year and she didn't finish her former year.

Again, no one filled in the gaps.

She has no one to talk to, not even her cousins who seemed so frightened and keyed to move.

Her aunt continued to deteriorate.

There were images coming to and fro her dreams every night.

She struggled.

Usually, she woke up under a sycamore tree, lain on the bed sand under the sea, floating on a misty foam of clouds or sweaty just lying flat on the torn matted floor of their humble hut.

Every day that followed haunted her like a nightmare.

She creamed and struggled.

Oftentimes, no one came to her but when she opened her eyes panting, she could see her cousins were all awake with fear on their eyes.

She would be the one to be comforting instead of to be comforted.

Giving them promises, everything would be fine and she was just having a bad night but it turned out to be nights and nights of unfolding nightmares.

She never knew how to utter a prayer yet she said: "Let me sleep! Let me sleep!" And this had been her mantra every night and true enough as if there was this someone who snapped out the devil and she fell to the deep of slumber.

It took her another 3 years to finish high school.

No friends at all.

House, library, washing clothes, cook, eat, sleep and then she graduated.

She tried climbing the top of the rank but there were already casted to that throne.

Yet, amidst her hollowness, she graduated with flying colors and now she is part of the prestigious school in the country.

Luke!

There was that force again beneath her.

Dragging her from her bed.

She screamed.

First Part. One : Voice

Miranda's heartbeat quickened and she wanted to throw up because of fear. All her life she has been so brave facing everything but facing an unknown enemy is simply pushing her to the edge of her not so dauntless self. Her put ons were lying down on the floor. She could face all the challenges posted on her forehead but not a creepy feeling running on the length of her spine.
She breathed deeply and closed her eyes. She felt a weak courage impending to creep her up.
When she opened her eyes she was facing a very dark alley. She was transported somewhere unfamiliar and she needs to fight back the fear that will somehow cripple her if she permits.
"Hello!" she called. She could hear her own voice squeak.
"Calm down. Calm down." The voice was all over the place, echoing "You need to suppress your fear Miranda. Everyone present will manage to smell that stink"
Shivers down her spine and she wanted to scream and run but she knew it will be futile.
"I do not want fighting out helpless!" She shouted. She was even taken aback by this new bravery boiling inside her. "You will never defeat me! You will never defeat me! I will  never give you a chance to subdue this intrepid. I have perfected this craft and I owe no one!"
Her knees were transforming to Jell-O but she tried as much to face the darkness.
"The darkness is just an absence of light. Not to be afraid of," She could hear her Aunt whispering at her before she succumbed to illness. The time when she was still a child and paid her aunt for an overnight visit. The time when she was yet unexploited of the world.
She concentrated hard and closed her eyes. She counted to ten and opened her eyes abruptly.
She was lying on her bed with total stillness at the confines of her room.
She blinked.

First Part: Voice

"I just couldn't find the right word how I feel," Miranda stared at the dark ceiling of her room she shared with other three students.
This afternoon was a thrill.
A smile from Luke.
A second glance.
And a slight touch to her elbow.
Whoa! The feeling was so strange, yet again it could be something opposite of what she expected to be.
She will always just be Miranda.
Pale. Plain and marginalized.
She came from the province. She was enrolled in a university because Luke's philanthropic father gave her the scholarship grant after  she passed a serious and tedious exam.
There was a total of 24 teenagers her age that tried their luck to get hold of the scholarship.
From easy to difficult stage and ended to only 3 who passed and she was one of them.
She was from one of the rural areas within a province in the Philippines. She never thought she will get hold of one of the college scholarship grant in the state university.
She passed the entrance exam yet she really have to undergo another scholarship to shoulder any other expenses not included in the university scholarship that only covers the tuition fees.
She lived with her ailing aunt and both her parents died when she was just 8 years old.
She was a consistent honor student since she started her studies but never a topnotcher but she had always managed to snatch a place on the top 5.
She didn't own even a single book. Her school supplies were always sponsored by their local government programs. She was always persistent to fall in line just to grab a bagful of school supplies every start of the school year. She worked as store assistant in a small grocery store and paid minimum enough to put food on their plates and a bland viand. Or better yet, rice sprinkled with thin layer of white sugar or every mouthful of rice equaled with a gulp of tap water she had fetched from a public well where you have to fall in line with other locales.
Life is harsh, she knew that in her early years. Her aunt got sick when she was graduating from elementary same time when her aunt's husband eloped with some stranger and left her the responsibilities, her ailing aunt and her 4 young wide eyed and hungry cousins.
She always find that force strangling her yet she battled to be brave and answer the responsibilities openly placed in front. At an early age, she mothered the 4 kids and watched her aunt disintegrated from her hold.
Her cousins were forced to beg for alms on the streets just to bring home tinkling coins for their dinner. They skipped breakfast and lunch often and buy a tablet or two for their mother.
Miranda also tried washing clothes for several families who were only capable paying her 200 pesos per wash load. She really didn't mind as long as she could put something on their plates.
She worked her way to high school scholarship and graduated as 1st honorable mention with only one pair of uniform which she washed, dried and worn for the last 4 years. She tried as hard to graduate valedictorian but she failed due to lack of extracurricular activities.
She knew the harshness of society and now she is facing her future with uncertainty, insecurities and unfathomable low self-esteem.
She left her cousins to other relatives to look after them. Her aunt died few months back.
Now, she tried blending in though she felt so strange.
She knew some friends from all over the country.
She attends classes and overwhelmed with different personalities.
Included in her scholarship is a monthly allowance of 5,000 for boarding house, food, school projects and other stuff. She tried squeezing some amount to spare for her cousins and some cheap clothes.
Now, as she lie down her bed with super thin worn out mattress, sleep evades her and Luke's smile lingers around her vision. The feeling's so strange and suffocating.
The touch?
The smile?
The glances?
"Argh! Shut up Mirr! You are one big hopeless and ambitious! His touch only means nothing, unconscious. The smile was intended for the person behind you and the glances were empty!"
Miranda was fully aware of that voice.
It's Saturday and her roommates were not around.
Who was it?

Undertaken

It will always be ambitious of me to create a novel. I do not have published novels here in my country although I have written more than a dozen when I was a teenager. When I started my college life and a lot of recreation was offered I set aside my writing. I was even amazed how my classmates wrote excellent essays. I competed with my papers but due probably to lack of actual exposure when I was younger, my interest in writing faltered.
But since I really love writing, and had been my therapy during my down point, that talent keeps nagging me.
Writing is a sense of belonging. But the problem with me is, my mind hurled to the scenario if people will like the novel or will there be somebody interested enough to browse the pages.
I read a lot of blogs about starting a novel, publishing and other related topics and I was introduced to a whole new ideas of writing. I just really have finish the novel and find someone to edit and publish it. It's a very ambitious taking but who knows?
It had been 2 decades since I had finished a novel. I had 2 unfinished but were deleted in my files due to some technicalities. Though, that could have been my sign to stop dreaming with my writing but somewhere something keeps nagging me to continue.
I didn't attend any workshop on writing to start with, my parents are not writers not even readers, I majored in Broadcast Communication doubled with Management and I do not see any relevance why I am writing now. I wrote a class prophecy during high school but that was the only exposure I ever had. Although I remember, I desired to submit an article to Young Blood portion on The Inquirer. But then again, I did not.
I started my novel with an initial title 'It Got to Be' last November when Rochelle Melander posted a challenge to indie authors to write a book within 26 days. I took the bait but I wasn't able to continue because my father's health condition worsened. I tried writing though something was pulling me away. I didn't even have time visiting my blog but since writing is one of my therapies, I tried digging my nails out of the pit and tapped the keyboards to form a word, sentence, paragraph and extra effort to hit the publish post button.
There were times, my mind was empty and I just think of nothing. The tears came and I let it flow. I just couldn't discuss depression and yet I feel the claw of it strangling me. My novel is trapped at Chapter 7 and I already have 70 pages. I am focusing on 60,000 word count since I am a newbie. Thanks to Paul Dorset for his helpful blogs on writing tips.
I met a lot of indie and self-professed authors and they somehow inspired me to go on.
A lot of people dream. But few followed and sought the coming of their dreams to reality.
I dream a lot, and yet i have to shake myself that I have to move and keep going because dreams will not come to life without my efforts. They say, we should have dreams more than our memories. I have yet I still lack the courage to go on.
I see myself passing through a thread and reaching the end point and having my novel published and writing new ones. I need to finish this one in order for me to move on and gain confidence that I really can write.I really have to focus and lock my target.  Nothing and no one can help me achieve these goals unless I free myself from the chain of uncertainties, insecurities, depression and doubt.
I even tried borrowing Paulo Coelho's new mantra: to write one chapter per day. I did but that didn't last for 2 days. I tried reasoning why I can't focus on my novel, because I have a job requiring my full time, I have a family that needs my attention, I have books to read or these are just my alibis because I am not into writing but my mind now wails an ear-splitting NO!
Everything else starts with a determination.
I can do this.
I'll finish the novel, whether it'll be published or rejected, I'll be moving forward.
Lord, guide me.

Gender

It is always fascinating to know that a lot of people still ready their armor to argue over gender issues.
I have been so obsessed with this kind of position when I graduated from College and entered the workplace the first time. Depends on what path we planned to take but we neglected the fact that this is not a world of gender but we have to be fit inorder to survive. Humans are created with ego and pride as our tails, better yet, twins. And so everybody argues for equality.
I observe people from the street. People riding trains. Vendors. Commuters. In coat and tie. In stilletos and signature wears. Showbiz. Politics. Moaners. Whiners. Beggars. We are in the world where we use our might and wit, not just charms and appeal. Though most often than not, charisma is all it takes to be on the pedestal.
I came across a College schoolmate and she's working at the Provincial Capitol- Justice Department (or if you have the appropriate term for that). She lives in the province and she was telling me how laid back life there is. That, wherever you earned your degree from is not a big deal in the Supreme court not unless you are a practicing lawyer there. I can not argue more but the fact that she is not a lawyer and working in the court does not merit her as a lawyer either. Compare to corporate world where the competitions are very stiff and all you got is your credentials.
When you planned to work as a Disc Jockey and you graduated as a Nurse unless you speak well and can promote yourself like any other people in that same profession, you're welcome but if you tried fitting in and you don not possess any of the qualification, hello there! You are missing your life to be somewhere else.
Working in the mine, welding shop, plumbing, basically the jobs require a man to do it. If you're a woman trying to fit in, at first, probably you would receive ridicules especially from those who wear their egos on their sleeves. But a lot of women had already proven these men that what they can, women can do just the same.
Although, there will always be some issues regarding the capabilities and strength. There are jobs that only men can do. Let's spare them that. But since, the world is trying to view the society with equality, there are jobs and sports catering to both gender. Again, it's not easy to fight for equal footing but through education and training, equality is on the top priority.
If we try to dissect each issue, we will find ego as the main cause of competition. It's not because of men are all Hercules and Achilles, both of them failed anyway. It is the denial that women can do just the same as men can.
Nowadays, I still see men who stares at women with desires and the object of release. I myself felt that boil inside me whenever I see men staring maliciously at unaware women. I even ask myself, is it because some of them do not have enough education to be so discreet with their hunger. They whistle. They stare. It is harassment but some women do acknowledge them. And that's what I was talking about, ego and pride.
Literacy can always lead us somewhere and from there we gain total self-respect and self-preservation. Our standards are elevated and we fight for equality, well for women, but men unless women have proven what we are worth, will give us room to share with them.
Survival is very crucial but we have to work our way out. If we intend to find a step somewhere in the corporate ladder, we really have to flaunt our abilities, credentials and skill but above all, charisma.
Inorder for women to get respect from men, respect yourself first. Some men, see women as just a floating object eventually will sink. Disposable. But whenever we preserve our dignity, men will sense that eventually.
Do we have to wear super skimpy shorts, if we have to ride a jeepney or any other public utility vehicle? I am not putting some conservative notes here, but women are always an object of desire and malice. We have to dress appropriately to get appropriate respect.
Equal footing. It's being attained. Politics all over the world had allowed women to take a post. Journalism and other Literary professions, women had already invaded with men's approval. In Sales and Marketing, there were equal count of both gender.
There is a long list for debate regarding gender equality but I already said my piece.
This is 2012, we are not living in Jane Eyre's era.

Bookworm

2010--The time I read the Twilight series four to five times and watched the movie the Nth time. Read plenty of Ebooks  from my iPod, Patterson, Coelho, The Short Second Life od Bree Tanner and The Host both by Stephenie Meyer (the brain of Twilight novels), Jodi Picoult, Nicholas Sparks and other bestsellers. All if not finished were left bookmarked. Even tried audio books of Julie Garwood and McNaught.

Through browsing the net, I came across the Twilight 1st book on Edward Cullen's perspective. Very interesting though because he really over analyze things. It also discussed where he stayed during his absence after he first encountered Bella at their Biology class. Well then, everything was discussed and I am no spoiler so try googling it instead.

I had my 2nd miscarriage during this year [2010] and since I have to stay home and was authorized to take a leave from work. I tried escaping depression and sought refuge to movies and books where I could temporarily escape reality.

I started reading when I was 10 years old and was so giddy over Sweet Valley Twins, Sweet Valley High, Sweet Dreams and was thrilled with Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys. Those books were just borrowed from classmates and friends or from the public library. I researched on ESP and other Psychology books. I wrote poems, essays and novels yet I didn't pursue literature. What I am saying here is, I really love reading though writing is my sweetheart.

I still remember going back to work after my maternity leave (that only lasted for 2 weeks) and I dropped by National Bookstore to see new books. Though I have a long list of bookmarked ebooks and paperbacks I still went through the rack of the new arrivals. I saw this black covered book with a golden bird illustration on the cover. The author's name is Suzanne Collins and the book title is The Hunger Games. First thing I looked for when I grabbed the book was to check the back cover. Imagine, Twilight series was still fresh in my memory and was gaga over the characters and seeing Stephenie Meyer being quoted, recommending the book, despite my hesitation, I grabbed the copy and paid. It took me another 3 days before I started reading the novel. In between, I goggled Suzanne Collins name and was even linked to some forum discussing her literary works. I was even introduced to her 1st series which is The Underland Chronicles composed of 5 books (got my copy just last year).

You might be familiar with Nickelodeon's Clifford the Big Red Dog, she is one of the head writers. Anyways, I read The Hunger Games. Hooked. I loved Katniss and Prim the first time they were introduced in the 1st chapter. I paused just to post status on my facebook wall about loving Katniss Everdeen. I fell for Peeta Mellark's charm and cried over Rue's demise. When the tributes ( kids who are chosen as delegates for The 74th Hunger Games) were already in the arena, soon the thrill and excitement began. Full packed action and it seems rolling motion pictures in my imagination. I put faces to all the descriptions and personalities discussed in the novel. I became so absorbed and when I finished the 1st book I run to the nearest bookstore to grab the 2nd and the 3rd books. Last 2 books were both hard bound and no paper back available and the cashier even said there was no paper back production yet. In short, no choice but to buy 2 books for the equivalent of one sack of Jasmine Rice.

Early 2011, there was some reviews and teasers about The Hunger Games the movie. I looked forward to see the characters in motion pictures but Lisbeth Salander stole the moment and dragged me to the world of deceit, ploy, net hacking and crime. The time I was also deeply rooted with my anxiety of my father's health condition. Then the never ending roll of movies. Books. Movies. Books. I even got books for my birthday (The Underland Chronicles of Suzanne Collins) and other inspirational ones. I started collecting Emily Giffin's and Mitch Albom's novels and begun my 1st fantasy/romance novel yet I got stuck somewhere though I desire to finish 1 chapter a day. You can not finish unless you have it started. I'm on my Chapter 6, page 70.

Anyway, back to the root of all these, I am so excited to see the movie of The Hunger Games. I read the three novels again and I was captured back. Dragged to arena. Cried. Laughed. Feel giddy about the complicated love triangle and now left alone waiting. I couldn't imagine I will be this fan again. I even bought a copy of The Hunger Games Tribute Guide this afternoon and will buy The Hunger Games Official Illustrated Movie Companion and The World of Hunger Games before the movie hit the big screen.

The 1st book discussed The Hunger Games which is held every year to show the citizens of Panem (North America) that no one succeeded defying the Capitol (what they called the capital). There was a time 75 years ago when District 13 revolted against the Capitol and the district was blown out from the Panem's surface. Every year, there will be 2 tributes (children from 12-18 years old) from each of the 12 districts to join The Hunger Games where they will be sent to arena. There will only be 1 winner and blood bath and killing will be the rule of the game inorder for the winner to bring home the crown. The 1st installment for The Hunger Games the movie will roll on March 21, 2012.

The 2nd book is titled Catching Fire- where there will be a 75th Hunger Games Quarter Quell and the assumption that District 13 still exists.

The 3rd book is the Mockingjay--Katniss Everdeen is the face of rebellion.

The trilogy was intricately and intelligently woven of some wild imaginations and left me drooling and dreamy. Salute to you Suzanne Collins, from The Underland Chronicles to this Trilogy, you are one brilliant mind!

20 days to go and the characters will have faces that will reenact the words.