Hey!

 

It’s one month away from my birthday… in four days.

I’m Lulu. Lulu Sylvana Hermawan for long. Try saying that ten times fast.

Betcha can’t. It’s a mouthful, I know. Just call me Lulu. Everyone does.

The only real purpose of this post (besides that it’s my first post at WordPress and I feel like such an amateur when WordPress shoves the words ‘No Posts Yet’ in my face everytime I open the page), is for you to get to know me.

“A writer is a thousand minds trapped inside one person.”

• Love of my life #1. Wonder who wrote that quote ?….. it’s Me.

Jeez, how pretentious can you be, quoting yourself ? DUH. I’m a writer. I love hearing myself think. I’m an egotistical, maniacal, posh bitch.

(Nothing like a self-deprecating humour to put people at ease. At ease, my readers.)

That quote up there kinda sums up my whole being. I LOVE writing. Love love love love love, love writing. It’s my escape. My sanctuary. Happy place. Whatever. Whatever word or term you come up with is probably accurate.

I have severe depression, coupled with mild anxiety. That’s out there. Let us be done with it. Us crazies (just a fun endearment term, we are perfectly normal) have different ways to cope. Well, this is my #1 way. I write to write. Not because I want to, but because I have to.

Have you ever been in a situation where two people are talking to you at the same time, fighting for your attention ? Could be a heated debate. Could be a lover’s quarrel (that somehow trapped you in it). Could be your kids fighting. That’s how it is for me. There are multiple, numerous people in my head, simultaneously talking. I’m not crazy. It’s just my characters.

Although the things that happen around me happens to me, to Lulu, all these characters in my head have their own opinions and comments about everything. They have their own take on events. And it’s FUN. It’s really, amazingly, super fun to have them do that. In my head.

So what I do is I (try) to make their voices heard. Every writer is the same. Don’t blame us for what happens in our writing. Blame them.

But more on this topic in the future. So, yes, I write. I love it. I love writing.

“I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library.” – Jorge Luis Borges

• Love of my life #2. Books. Ah. Heavenly. That pungent smell of a well-worn book. Vintage bookstores.  Yes.

Ew, that’s the smell of fungus developing because it’s kept in a dark, humid space.

You know what ? You’re probably right. But I love it. Now, we’ve established that I’m a writer. But that just doesn’t come by itself. I wasn’t just born as a writer. Like, out of my mum’s womb and just started writing. No. It’s all because of…. reading. Have you ever heard something truly as wonderful as reading ? Or do something equally as magical ? You haven’t. You can’t. Let me give you this : “If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as that.”  – Stephen King

That’s as true as blue. (Is that an expression ?)

I am who I am, where I am because of my books. They’re my precious. Those voices inside my head ? They exist because there was a whole bunch of people in my head first. People who came from the books. Everytime I read a book, I don’t just read their lives. I live their life, and even after the last page is closed, they stay with me.

Their lives ? They’re made up. Fictional, You say. Well, I say HOW DARE YOU. They are very much real. They live here. (I’m soulfully putting a hand over my heart, just in case you didn’t visualize it.)

Those voices in my head isn’t just my characters. They live together, cohabitates with other characters that moved in with me (to my head) after I read a book.

I will have a post in the future about the books I’ve read and the whole she-bang in the future. (Whoa, Lulu. That’s 2 promises of future posts already. Sure you can keep it ?) I will try my best.

“If I cannot fly, let me sing.” – Stephen Sondheim

Even if I can fly, let me sing.

• Love of my life #3. Singing.

When you imagine a singer, you imagine Beyonce. Miley Cyrus. Demi Lovato. James Bay. Jeff Buckley. Celine Dion. Etta James. John Lennon. They really are amazing, aren’t they?

The point is, I’m not them. I will never be them. I love to sing, but I don’t have the pipes for it. Yet, I do it anyway. Why ? Because my music is for me. If anyone else enjoys it, then I’m grateful. But mostly, it’s another way to cope with my depression. Y’all know Bob Marley ? Another amazing singer. He said this : “One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain.” 

When depression hits me, I crumble. Music glues me back together. I don’t play any instrument but my voice. Many will argue that not being able to play any musical instruments means that I’m less of an artist than the ones who do. Sod them. Sod them and their opinions. They can shove it where the sun don’t shine.

I am an artist. Not because I sing. Because my life is my art. I’m the architect, the full designer of my whole life. Whatever happens to me, crappy or good, happy or sad, it’s me. I take full ownership. I take full responsibility for my actions, for what happens to me, for my demons, for my angels.

So yes, I sing. There’s really nothing else I can say.

“Try to learn something about everything and everything about something.” Thomas Huxley

• My life principle.

Well, that particular quote and a few others. But I’m going to save that for my next post.

Other things you might need to know about me, that I’m going to divulge in the next post are these :

1. I’m 17.
2. I’m a fangirl.
3. I’m a talker.
4. I’m a diplomating, manipulative wench.
5. I’m going to talk to you soon !

 

Let me add another picture of me real quick ! Bye!

Infinite hugs and kisses,