Book Review

Book Review: Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters

Book 2 is called: THE SEA OF MONSTERS.

The movie was way better than the first one. I think Tyson was kinda hot lol


Percy changed school and met a very scared and very enormous boy named Tyson. Protector of the bullied, Percy was always there for Tyson and vice versa. One day, a game of dodgeball became a death match against an ugly gang of cannibal giants – the Laestrygonians and he found out that Tyson was a fireproof cyclops and also *surprise, surprise!* his half-brother.

Meanwhile Grover who was looking for the Lord of Nature, Pan, who was lost at the Sea of Monsters. The whole Camp Half-Blood was in ruins because their protector, a tree that was supposed to be the incarnation of daughter of Zeus, Thalia was poisoned. The tree marked the border between the real world and the enchanted strawberry farm. Annabeth deduced that Grover had found the Golden Fleece, a cure for all poison and nature and was trying to communicate with them for help. So Percy, Annabeth, Tyson and coincidentally Clarisse, daughter of Ares – God of War, was thrown into the chase and they have to figure out how to save Grover and steal the Golden Fleece from Polyphemus, a giant cannibal cyclope guarding it and to bring it back to Half-Blood Camp to cure Thalia/the tree.

Percy’s sarcasm:

“Mythologically speaking, if there’s anything I hate worse than trios of old ladies, it’s bulls. Last summer, I fought the Minotaur on top of Half-Blood Hill. This time what I saw up there was even worse: two bulls. And not just regular bulls – bronze ones the size of elephants. And even that wasn’t bad enough. Naturally they had to breathe fire, too.”


I’d say I like Book 2 better than Book 1. Maybe because of Tyson. Maybe not. I didn’t like Annabeth much in this because she reminds me too much of Hermione Granger. Percy, of course is the kind of man you want to read because he’s so stupid and so honest. His relationship with his new found half-brother was sweet and heartfelt. Overall the book is worth 4 out of 5 stars.

Book Review

Book Review: Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief

I’ve read more Percy Jackson than Harry Potter. Sometimes I wonder why and then I thought about the Epilogue in Deathly Hallows and I loved my decision more than ever.


I saw the movie first and didn’t like it. If you do, you probably haven’t read the book. Justice was not even there to witness how they ruined it. I don’t always pick books over movies. Some versions were better, for example The Witch, The Lion and the Wardrobe, The Giver and The Maze Runner. For Percy Jackson’s case, I really felt a deep sympathy for Uncle Riordan.

Enough of that. We start with the first book; THE LIGHTNING THIEF.

Perseus ‘Percy’ Jackson was a troubled 12 year old studying in a boarding school deemed for special kids. He’s dyslexic with a touch of ADHD. His only friend was Grover and his favourite teacher was Mr. Brunner, a paraplegic man who taught Greek Mythology. He hates school but he hates his stepfather even more. His mother works at a candy store and he would do anything for her. He’d been brought up to understand that his father had left him after he was born.

After several curious incidents, he found out who was his father; Father of Horses, Earthshaker, Stormbringer. All hail Percy Jackson, son of the Sea God, Poseidon.


He was not the only half human-half God in the world. These kids are called demigods or half bloods and they’re sent to a special camp called the Half-Blood Camp so that they can learn how to defend themselves. Apparently they’re delicious delicacy and their smell attracts all sorts of Greek demons and monsters. Most demigods can’t survive in real world without proper training.

Our story starts when a Minotaur kidnapped Percy’s mother to the Underworld, so he knew right away that he got to save her. Meanwhile Zeus, God of the Sky lost his lightning bolt at the same time when Hades, Lord of the Underworld lost his helmet of darkness and they all blamed Percy. He just need to figure out how to get everything back along with daughter of Athena, Annabeth Chase and his beloved undercover satyr, Grover.


Damn, I did not see that coming would be the appropriate thing to say. This scene, even while reading gives me goosebumps every single time. It’s when Poseidon officially declared Percy as his son.


Riordan has a particular set of skills that turns you into an addict without you even noticing. It’s a bit annoying to be honest because you don’t want to fell into the well but when you realized about it, you’re half drowning already.

He has his own style. If you’re into Greek gods, action and witty sarcasm, this is the book for you.

My favourite quote:

“Hades raised an eyebrow. When he sat forward in his throne, shadowy faces appeared in the folds of his black robes, faces of torment,as if the garment was stitched of trapped souls from the Fields of Punishment, trying to get out. The ADHD part of me wondered, off-task, whether the rest of his clothes were made the same way. What horrible things would you have to do in your life to get woven into Hades’ underwear?”

Seriously, Hades is one of my favourite gods and his wife, Persephone is metal as fuck🙂 She’s all flowery and growing flowers in spring but in winter she’s the Queen of the Underworld.

Greek gods are awesome🙂

The book is worth 3.75 out of 5 stars. The only thing I hate about the book is the constant interruptions at crucial moments. Read it and you will definitely understand why. I understand why people who enjoyed Harry Potter were recommended to read this book but I don’t see the point of comparing it. I thoroughly enjoyed Percy’s point of view and I was lucky because I got Book 2 ready by the time I finished Book 1.

Mi Vida

This is Embarrassing

Really, it is. How long was it, five months? Damn. I knew it was a long time since I’ve written something but did I really sunk that low? That’s like five months of full throttle otaku mode!

Senpai, notice me!


Yes. I am admitting to the world. I am joining the anime fans. I no longer watch regular television programs, need very little sleep to function like a proper human and eat leftovers throughout the day. I am only a simple girl wishing to end one episode after the other and falling in love with fictional characters.

Honestly, it wasn’t meant to be a permanent status. I watched anime when I was young but I don’t like it, I mean, I can live without it. No big deal. One of the reasons I was not so into it was because the Malay dub was nothing short of remarkable, it’s boring. They did a pretty decent job but it’s the same actors day in, day out, this series and that series. The story line was mainstream. Either the protagonist had the best skill at spinning a top or racing cars or catching furry little monsters. I’m way past that phase, as far as I’m concern.

And then I tried following Aang: The Last Airbender (A:TLA) and I thought that it was one of the most awesome, memorable cartoon/animation I watched on t.v. It had proper essence, like, it actually taught me something valuable about myself and I did not expect that from a kids’ program. I was hooked.


The picture accurately portrayed the 61 episode journey from start to the end and I loved it. I was so excited with this new found genre (I thought this was anime – it’s not) that I immediately started watching Legend of Korra (LOK) – the sequal of A:TLA.


Big mistake. All 52 episodes of it. The series had the biggest potential to be a better hit than A:TLA but fell short. They had pretty strong points – the fight scenes packed more power and the worldbuilding are way better than the first counterpart but the story line after Book One: Air was totally ridiculous and I can’t empathize with any of the the villains afterwards. I reached out to fellow LOK followers online (the series was still ongoing at that time and everyone was hoping that it will knock our socks off – fat chance!) and while waiting for the next episode to be uploaded online, I spent some time watching some anime recommendations from my virtual friends.

One of it was Barakamon. It was supposed to be a trial series since it only has 12 episodes. It should not burden me or waste my time or left me sobbing after the first episode or made me more determined to practice my art no matter what. Handa Seishuu was an infamous calligrapher known for his short temper and he had punched the director of an art gallery for criticizing his masterpiece. The story unfolds when Handa’s father suggested that he should cool off his temper on an island where his father grew up. The series was not about magic or vampires or demons. It’s simply about life and how you handle failure. I have never felt this kind of resonance with a character before. Handa and I, we’re both on the same page. Angry and struggling and we want to be the best. It got me from the very first episode and never let go.


Do you know what happens after that? I went absolutely crazy and it will get more and more embarrassing after this.

Mi Vida

Second Official Book

I’ve waited 2 months (in agony) for them to evaluate my second full manuscript. I had high hopes that it will be published (I’m pretty optimistic sometimes) but I didn’t expect it to take almost a year to do so.

Yep. They sent a contract saying that I can only see my baby by May 2016. [*hyperventilates*]

Don’t get me wrong. I’m ecstatic that I finally found out that they were really going for it because it was not the kind of book that they would normally publish. I’m my own category. But I feel like frothing in my mouth with all the bubbles of my future expenditure. A year, man. And the royalty is paid annually, at the end of year. [*throttles myself*] I must have made a serious gamble.

I was hoping to escape this prison, maybe further my study with the royalty. I don’t know. I need to breakaway as soon as possible. My heart is not in the right place. But this is actually a step backward. It will take me at least another 2 years to actually get paid. Oh my god, thinking about it makes me ill.

This will not do. Gotta step up my end game. I’m game for another book.

Mi Vida


I rarely speak nowadays. If I am required to look for a new friend, I’d tremble at the thought of new conversation, like a kindergartner on her first day. I would rather stay in my room or look for a clean table and began to type. I might offer an occasional ‘hmmph’ so my parents knew I was listening. Other than that, I’m quite mute and it came naturally.

The society was not impressed. It was called ‘snobbish’ or ‘pretentious’, I guess. They tried to lure me out with cute children, gossip and food and I deliberately took the first bite. And then I learned my lesson – people really suck sometimes and they do it for fun.

The gathering was totally unplanned, of course. The objective is to exchange latest stories – dramas within 10 mile radius, recipes, children’s traditional remedy for simple ailments, religious talk and of course, the timeline of someone’s humiliation that’s coincidentally was not there. I came from a girls’ school and it was supposed to be the broth and blood in my bones but now I’m just sick of it. I had the same feeling when I scroll down my Facebook’s newsfeed. I was there, mute and judging silently. Sometimes I feel proud of myself. Thank God I’m not that pathetic. Most of the time I felt more awful than the previous time. Then I unfollowed them all, leaving the updates of some book bloggers, artists, photographers and writers.

And yet I still felt annoyed. Ugh. Pesky humans. They don’t even mean what they say!

I realized it way too late. People talk and say things. Promised things. Jokes about things. A word of advice; they don’t really mean it. They scatter the words into the wind and forget all about it when they sleep. Some never intended to keep it. They said you’d be their best friend forever and you thought that should last long enough after the sun collapses and you were wrong. They left and stomp your heart with their feet. They said they worry about you because they love you and they don’t want you to make mistakes and that’s why they’re not going to support your decision. You need some networking, not wasting your time doing petty things, they said. You’re not supposed to be happy. Just suffer life like the rest of us. Use your degree. They tell you if you have any problems, they’d be there. The same one that says ‘all your secrets are safe with me.’ When disaster struck, I had to chase them one by one. I begged them to protect me. I was that scared. All I received was uncomfortable silence and a voice saying ‘call me when you’re better and we’ll celebrate!’

And I just stood there with all the words printed on my bleeding skin. Reading it all over and over again, asking myself which part of this conversation I didn’t understand.

Mi Vida

New Books

Every time I write a new post, WordPress is updating something. Either the panels are suddenly on the right and then on the left and then it’s everywhere. It’s confusing. That’s how long I’ve been doing other stuffs besides blogging.

I’ve been working hard to the point that my hand isn’t what it used to be. The tiny bones around my middle knuckle is not happy each time I grab a pen or typing something. It aches like a mother. It’s my fault probably. I punched a wooden cupboard in fits of anger and now I’m paying it with my unworthy fist.

I finished an English book about 56 K unedited words. A paranormal thing that I thought a lot about. I’m letting it stew for about a month before I have another go at it. I sent the 3 first chapters to my old publisher because one of the workers told me back in 2014 that they were looking for English manuscripts but it came back with ‘we no longer publish English books’ in my inbox. That’s a shame. They published a few, I think. I have to find another publisher who does. I’m nervous when I think about book agents and international bestseller with my name but it would be so cool to break out from this maze.

I finished a travelogue with about 60 K, edited without mercy. I thought it was one of my most emotional works. I put a lot of effort into it. Sent the 3 first chapters to the same publisher and it was rejected after miserable 2 months. The long manuscript queue almost drove me insane. One should never advertise to give one’s feedback after 3 weeks when one only have time after 8 weeks. The panels (there were 9 people judging me, most of them writers of the same company) said that the 3 chapters don’t have enough ‘hook’ to bait the readers. I admit that’s true. I moved it back to chapter four because I need to say something important (and boring) in chapter three. 4 people agreed to publish it. 5 said it sucked big time. I accept defeat and try to connect with another publisher.

I wrote to him in fits of anger. Maybe this dude could help. I followed his rants on Facebook. He seemed cool and fearless and just absolutely sincere to the point that he was banned from giving speeches in universities and some public places. He didn’t reply. I was desperate. 2 down. I have to search for other people and I’m running out of lists.

I sent to another publisher, a relatively new name with 12 books under its belt. It was a scary mail. I was terrified of another rejection mail. 4 days later they said yes. We want your full manuscript. I was over the moon. It’s been a month after they asked me for it. I hope it went well. I really do. The manuscript is important to me. It contained half of my precious life. I was hoping to publish it since the past 10 years and when I’m ready, I hope to do it as swiftly as I could.

Meanwhile, I found another publisher who publishes English, Malay and even short stories. Interesting. I worked on several short stories (sucky ones, I’ve been told but this is when I didn’t know much about short stories) and sent it to them on their website. The CEO liked it. Sent me a mail on the same day saying that it caught his attention. The 10 stories was about 13 K, a meager meal way below the company’s requirement of 20 K words for short stories. He said he had forwarded the stories to their English editor and it has been a week that I’ve been waiting for that bloody girl to write me something. No word.

I have two pending works and I am going crazy because I can’t do anything about it. Now I’m working on a love story. It should be about 70 K but that was not the most terrifying thing about it. I didn’t know much about love but I’m lying about it anyway. I’m up to chapter 5 (out of 35) when suddenly I thought it would be a great idea to write a series of Malay short stories. Now I have three. Needs seven more before I could send it off.

My thoughts are everywhere. I hope my babies are all alright. I’m paranoid. My hand hurts. I hope things will get better soon. I really do.

Spilled Ink

The Crater

For years I’ve been dancing around the crater of wound

Ignoring the hunger, the pleading, the blistering screams

Daring myself to laugh at soulless skins drowning inside the burning pit

Fucking idiots, I would say. I pitied the weak.

And then I slipped. My feet touched a corner oozing with pus and I screamed his name.

The memory burrowed out of the marrow of my bones. A dimpled chin. A tuft of black hair, darker than a cloak of nightmare. Shots of laughter bottled inside the core of the sun. Stolen kisses on the cream sofa. Long and infinite warm hugs. Caramel stuffed clog porcelains. Hot chocolate flavored tea on silver tray. Homemade guacamole. Fingers licking pungent pumpkin curry. Purple checked shirts. Accent tags. Eyes like pools of amber nectar. Heart that reached out and dutifully mends.

Like a little goldfish, I’m breathless in the palm of his hands.

Put me in the crater, dear. I promise I won’t climb out again.