the sinclairs

the sinclairs
(family characteristic and name adapted from the book we were liars)

I am a sinclair but only by name. I grew up knowing nothing but the sinclairs are great, smart, perfectionists, always looked up to – atleast that’s what everyone around me then told me. Grandfathers and their heirs as mayors and governors while grandmothers and daughters looked over the old porch that oversees the church and the city while cooling themselves with a specially made hand-held fan. Grandfather and grandmother bore 10 children – 3 boys and 7 girls. The sinclair family grew older, leaving 10 heirs and cousins responsible for the political dynasty of the city. The eldest, took over the city and practically raised the whole sinclair family after grandfather died. Hard work paid off and everyone in the sinclair family grew successful, atleast most, who bore children of their own.

A normal feast or gathering of the sinclairs consists of both laughter and smearing. Let me tell you about the laughter part, the good part. You arrive with food and stories for everyone and jokes to tell. They tell you what a good idea it is to plan a vacation as a family while you take a bite of the softest and tastiest steak you could ever taste. Then they start to notice the clothes you wear, the shoes you wear, and even the hair you wear. This is where the smearing comes in. They start to compare you with your other cousins starting from clothes, to the color of your skin, and to how she managed to keep her grades up all 4 years of high school and even graduating with honors while you didn’t. Then they start to dictate how you should live your life even to the point of choosing who you should spend your life with and whom not to. Those who get to dictate are the ones rich enough to do so because they will make you feel like you owe everything to them because they help you financially. And those sinclairs who have lesser millions than they do, have no choice but to submit and agree.

One sinclair who bore a child from a 2nd husband, is much uglier and less intelligent than all the other sinclairs is the favorite topic of all when it comes to backstabbing and making jokes of. Whenever there are gatherings, he is often made fun of and never included in dances and formal gatherings that require the display of natural beauty and etiquette. The sinclairs believe that white is always beautiful, better than the real color hiding under their skin that have been pressed and injected a hundred times by the dermatological doctor.

The sinclairs fight over who gets the bigger part of the land grandfather left for the family. They judge those who have dreams of being a lawyer and tells them they cannot be a lawyer someday because you are just not good enough. They will always make you feel underdressed every time you go to a party with them, no matter what you wear.

The sinclairs are like Trompe-l’œil, the art that makes you believe something is so beautiful, something very real only to find out it is nothing but ordinary, something two dimensional and not three. It lures you at first into believing that this is the best family and the most superior and all knowing family. They make you believe that what they want is to make your life better but in reality, all they care for are themselves. The sinclairs fight over who gets the bigger part of the land grandfather left for the family. They judge those who have dreams of being a lawyer and tell them they cannot be a lawyer someday because you are just not good enough. They will always make you feel underdressed every time you go to a party with them, no matter what you wear.

The sinclairs are ostentatious like a louis vuitton bag that is designed to impress and nothing but pretentious. And they never stop. The sinclairs will forever be sinclairs.

Timelessness of the sea

Time has always been a friend of mine, a constant reminder of how I should spend every minute of my life. Like most people, I bring my phone as frequent and mandatory as I bring with me my underwear. Not because I can’t survive without talking to my friends or that I cannot resist that tingling feeling whenever I don’t open my twitter. But because of time. I know there’s such a thing as a watch, but I don’t get why I don’t wear one. Maybe because I sweat easily and I just hate, hate having a sweaty wrist. Why does it seem like time is staring at me every time I sit on my couch, just watching TV and munching on the fries I just called on delivery? 

When people say we should find what we love doing the most, there are a couple of things that pop into my head. Surfing 5-foot waves in the beautiful waters of the Pacific ocean, biking around the city and to the grocery and back to my place, running and feeling the adrenaline in your body that keeps you going, reading books that are far better than the best movies ever produced, paddling out to the open sea with fresh breeze rushing across your face, those are the things I am passionate about. It might seem shallow to some or maybe to all, but I’ve found the things I love doing the most. Isn’t that what life’s all about? What greatness is all about? Because for me, it doesn’t matter how many essays or reports I write to get accepted in a job I don’t even have the heart for, or how many strangers I meet asking me “why should we accept you?” and so many other people wondering and finding more reasons why I’m not cut out for something I work so hard for, it doesn’t matter as long as the sea won’t run out of waters and waves worth coming back to every time I feel like I’m not good enough for anything. 

I’ve been pressuring myself for years now thinking time is running out and I might be stuck forever doing things I never dreamt of doing. Or time running out for my dreams to just remain as dreams. I hope luck will finally be on my side and it’ll be my turn to show everyone what I’m really passionate about. I believe it’s all about luck and good timing. My big break is just around the corner.

All I wanted was to be rich and famous.

Funny for Nothing

What is the toughest question you’ve ever been asked?

For me, “Fries – large or medium?” and “Are you out of your mind?” are top contenders. But they aren’t the toughest questions I’ve ever been asked – not by a long shot.

No, the undoubted winner is “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

I like to call this question the ‘How It All Began’ question. I’ll explain.

Imagine this: You’re three years old and your parents have guests over. You’re busy playing with your ‘Barney-the-dinosaur’ soft toy. All of a sudden, there’s a lull in the conversation. Nobody knows what to say, so all eyes slowly turn towards you. You’re too young and innocent to know that you are the next victim. “Aww, what a sweet child,” one lady croons. She looks straight at you and asks, “So, what do you want to be when you…

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Love like ours



Happiness is something a lot of us long for now a days. Some buy themselves material things to inject some happiness in their life. For some, spending time with the ones they love makes the word happiness a little more real. But for me, I felt real happiness for the first time when I was kid. And it wasn’t because I bought the latest toy, or the coolest bike, but because I finally had my first dog. 

I remember begging my mom for years telling her “Mom! If you buy me a dog, I will feed her myself, groom her myself, and walk her myself.” I actually kept that promise. And so the day came when the beautiful creature arrived at our home. A creature as small as a rat, tugged in my brother’s arms, such a beauty. We all can’t decide what to name the cute little pug because no name was close enough to fit the cuteness of the small creature. And so we all decided to call her ‘Dirty’ because when she was born, she was the dirtiest among all her siblings. 

There wasn’t a day when we didn’t play like sisters. I taught her how to jump as high as a medium dog could, I put her to my bed secretly while my parents are asleep for they did not approve of her sleeping inside the room, I trained her to bite people who are fighting me but she ended up biting my brother because she thought we were REALLY fighting when we were just wrestling. That’s how close we were, like real sisters, chasing around each other. And when you first bore your 3 cute little puppies, I was there to make sure you wouldn’t feel a single pain and that everything will fall into place. 

And today is the first 15th of May that I would be spending without you in my arms. Although I knew from the start that you wouldn’t live forever, I didn’t know you wouldn’t last for more than 8 years ’cause I was kind of hoping you’d see me graduate college and I would get to have more nights cuddling with you. I’ve always thought of you as a real human and not a dog. A human who lacks a little bit of nose bridge, a human who has a short, curly tail behind her, who has a ton of wrinkles on her face and is in need of a serious botox. Dogs are also humans who will wipe away your tears and make you feel happy in every way possible when you feel like the world is on your shoulders and make you feel worthwhile again. But the only difference between a human and a dog is that a dog will love you more than she loves herself no matter happens. So Dirty, Happy birthday and thank you for loving me for than anyone else and more than your food and I’m sorry if ever the love I gave you wasn’t as much as the love you gave me. There will never be a love like ours.


What I Wish I Knew After My MFA Ended

Exactly what I need right now

BREVITY's Nonfiction Blog

A guest post from Sara Finnerty:

420-Jacquelyn-Mitchard-splits-limbo-looking-back.imgcache.rev1308082218874In the years after I got my MFA I was a miserable mess. I felt like a failure as a writer and a human being. I still feel that way sometimes, but now I try and fail and try again and I know that does not mean I am a failure, it only means I am a person like everyone else. If I could, here are some things I would tell my self six years ago when I was finishing graduate school.

1)   Don’t even try to get published. There are some people in your class who will stop writing altogether. There are some who will only tangentially write. You will never stop writing, but don’t try to publish right now because your writing is still borderline terrible. Yes, you have an MFA but an MFA does not give you the heart, the will, the…

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Junk #1

As I write this first post of mine, I’m not quite sure if I’m spelling “quite” right or am I writing “quiet” instead because it’s been weeks since my eyes reminded me about getting my eyes checked and finally wear eyeglasses. I’m still in denial that I’m not one of those people who have four eyes  or those who wear one just to look nerdy or serious.

People who are into sports usually say they’re out of shape whenever they’re not in good physical condition. Perhaps I can say I’m out of shape in terms of every condition I guess. First, it’s been more than a year now since I last ran, given that I used to be track and field player. Second, my mind emptied out on all the creative ideas that used to just randomly overflow. This is one reason why I stopped writing for months now. But I think the more perfect reason as to why I stopped writing is because I failed in the one aspect in which I thought I was good at and passionate about. I used to be passionate about running too, before I failed. You see that’s the thing about me, once I fail in something I love to do, I quit.

Lately I see my friends checking one by one their list of to-do’s that will lead them to greatness. But why does it seem like I haven’t checked even 1 from mine? I can’t help but ask when will it be my turn to have my big break. But let’s see. Opportunities never run out. Maybe mine’s just around the corner. But I can’t get out of the house right now to check that corner cause I’m sick like literally sick. So hope you guys will keep up with my journey! Till my next blog…