Wednesday, June 24, 2009
1252
First breath after coma
These days, when life seems only to be serving up an endless pile of crap, I try my best to be happy. I try not to think about being stuck in a meaningless job and try to look forward to things like saving money for a trip to god-knows-where next year. What’s been a major change in me the past year or so? I’m sure you’ve been hearing this over and over again, but I’m glad that I’m not so angry anymore, that I’ve learnt to take joy in the littlest things.
Like yesterday when my boss’ driver, whom I’ve never spoken a word to asked if I’m active in sports or was a gymnast or anything like that. I said no and I asked him why. He said he’s been meaning to ask me this for a long time but have not gotten the chance to, but he noticed that I have muscles on my arms (!!!) and strong shoulders and the way I walk indicates that I am somewhat a sportsperson. I told him I used to swim but that was over ten years ago. Out of politeness I asked him if he’s into sports and he tells me that he is a dancer. From traditional dance, to modern dance, to ballet and the like. Brushing aside the creepiness that he’s had perfect vision of my back from where he sits for the past month or so and that someone can notice this about me, I am in awe that someone as unexpected as a driver can be into dance. And that little glimpse into someone else’s life and how people always give me unexpected surprises always makes me happy.
I am probably not articulating all this in the most perfect way, but this is all I can write for now, to describe my mental state of trying to make the best out of my life.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
0955
Songs for the broken hearted
Zen Habits tells me that there shouldn’t be the phrase “I don’t know” in my life. I should make decisions on where to eat if there’s a dinner plan, eventhough I am not that keen with the place I picked in the first place. Which I should do. My mind is always telling me, “There’s no such thing as I don’t know” and I need to always, always remember that.
#
It finally rained today, after many scorchingly hot days. I now work in an environment so completely different than what I am used to. The people speak a different language, websites like facebook and meebo are blocked, there is no music, no one wears jeans, and there are more girls than guys. I find myself out of my element everyday, out of my comfort zone. This might or might not be a good thing, I need more time to find out.
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Things that I have been doing to get extra money: dogsitting, ironing, driving (a car), translating and transcribing.
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We were sitting in front of the TV, and she was watching a Chinese drama while I barely paid attention. At times she’d explain what was going on, but again, I didn’t pay much attention. Then she said, “Look at that man, so trigger happy,” (it was a cop holding a gun). I was surprised. “What did you say?” She went on to explain that the cop liked to open fire whenever he pleased. “Trigger happy,” I repeated after her. “You surprise me sometimes.” She smirked and said, “Yea but it’s all goin down the drain from mixing with people like (insert name) who don’t speak proper English.”
#
At work both parties resort to speaking a language they aren’t comfortable with in order to communicate and understand each other. I’ve repeatedly used the few words I know, and have asked for a word’s meaning many times now. Only four people, including me, read the English paper. It feels strange, and two weeks later I’m still adjusting.
#
I look forward to my lunches now, whether its food brought from home or food that is bought.
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After many days of being quiet, he smiled for the first time today. Then he laughed the next day. It was good hearing his laugh, amidst the gloom in the air. The fact that he said he’s come to accept his situation, so long as it did not hurt anymore. With each trip to the doctor’s bringing more bad news, it was good to hear his laughter again.
#
We were on a rooftop of a school, and it was on fire. No where to escape. A boy came to me and said if he catapulted me in a car, I might be able to survive. I was afraid, but thought, I’d die either way anyway. So I agreed. I sat in the car while he pushed it. “What’s your name?” I managed to shout to my lifesaver. “Arif,” he shouted back. I survived, and he greeted me downstairs. He saw my arm, the one that was broken before and now fixed with a screw. He showed me his, and also the arm of the guy standing next to him. “Hey you can join our club,” he said. I said ok. I met them in a coffee shop, and it was possible that we discussed some book or something. Then I was back in his room, with him. It was small, and dark. A bed, a floor lamp that emitted a warm orange glow, books everywhere, a lazy chair, a toilet. We took a shower. A few guys came in the room and played him a piece of music to get his approval. He told them to play it to me instead. (I can’t remember now what I thought of it). After they left, he wanted to take a nap. I said “Ok, just for 20 mins,” We laid on the carpet and I held him in my arms.
I woke up remembering the dream in detail, and it gave me a good feeling the entire day. That was over three weeks ago. Writing this down now, it just occurred to me that this dream might have just reflected part of my desires, my life, what I want. I won’t deny that I want someone to love, but wtf; why did I need to be rescued in the dream? Why did it have to be one of those (pseudo) intellectual guys?
I had vivid dreams the next two days, but Arif wasn’t in them anymore. One was about Dad, and the other was about babies.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
1243
Hard Times
The past few days have rendered me emotionally incapable of handling anything. I cry at the slightest things (a phone call with mom, in the movies, etc). (If) In my previous post I seemed self-assured, but I'm far from it right now. I didn't get the job as hoped, they decided they couldn't hire me because of money issues. Needless to say, I am (or, was) crushed, because I had more than a 50% chance of getting the job. The people around tell me I made the right decision, in refusing the little pay they offered me. Mom tells me to play it cool. My voice cracked when I told her about the job over the phone (I couldn't tell if she noticed this) and she told me to play it cool. Minutes later she calls me again and asks me if I ever thought of going back to school...
I've tried to write about this a few times now and it is proving to be difficult. My thoughts are jumbled, and I don't know where exactly to start. I jump between feeling angry and sad all the time because there's too much on my plate. I guess I'll just lay low for now, till things get better.
Friday, April 17, 2009
2123
Kingdom of Rust
Wow, has it been that long already? It didn't feel like it, because I didn't have the urge to write. 2009 came without a bang as I spent it back home with my parents. It's now April, and I'm in a state of frustration over my joblessness. To cut the long story short, a full-time job that was in my grasp since March is in limbo because I cannot seem to contact the person in charge. "It's like the company is running a front for something else," I laughed half-heartedly as I told a friend today.
So, today I attended an interview for a copywriting job with a company that owns several TV stations. Strange, when I was asked what books I read. Strange, because no one has really asked me that with genuine interest, and talked about authors with me. It was like a whole new world just opened up to me as I sat there, excited but overwhelmed as my interviewer told me about the job. The interview went ok, I came back with some print ads I need to do copies for, and will only know if I've gotten the job in two weeks.
I'm just writing all this down because I was always adamant about not doing copywriting. Looking at all the people at ad agencies, I guess part of me wasn't confident enough that I could come up with great ideas. I thought I could never fit in with said people. And I didn't want to sell my soul. har har.
I'm not as anxious over the two-week waiting period as I would have been six months ago. Not because I'm not excited about it, but because I think I've grown over these few months. When I whine about my not working, N would tell me "You're just taking time off to find yourself," with conviction that I didn't really believe. But yes, maybe I have gained a little bit of my self back. That, and learning so much about family, friendship, love, and patience. I'd like to think that I've grown to be less self-centered, even though I still have to remind myself not to be that everyday. And I'm learning how to treat myself better.
So till then, I will continue playing with the dog (we have a new puppy!), bake muesli bars, watch The Sopranos and Mad Men, read, and sit with Dad for his eye surgery next week.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
2227
Beginning and end
"What bring ah ma to heaven?" he asked me.
I didn't know how to answer because while he went to Sunday School, his parents believed in a different religion. So I made Cel answer instead.
"Angels brought her," she told him.
"But how did the angels bring her?"
"They have wings, so they can fly," I said.
I didn't cry. If I had, it would have been for the wrong reasons anyway.
It was Thanksgiving week. I have many things to be thankful for, and I'm most thankful for learning how to let go of the things that do not belong to me.
Friday, November 21, 2008
1821
We're turning into ordinary people
On Monday, I started a new job at an MNC. And I hid in the toilet to cry on the very same day. I came home, sent out a resume for a writing job, and typed out my resignation letter. After frantic text messages and tears over phone calls, most of the people said, hang on a little longer, and two told me why should I wait, just quit if I was unhappy. No prizes, then, for guessing who my two favourite people were that day.
On Tuesday, I decided to hand in my letter in time with the notice period to ensure that my last day would be the end of the month. I've thrown my work ethics, manners that I've kept for years and years out of the window just like that. So coming Monday, I will hand in my letter.
I've made one of the biggest mistake of my life, thinking that I could leave writing behind and start a career in the corporate world. But I can't. It's a mistake that I'm paying for everyday of this week, and possibly next week too. But I also learned again, as a few years back, that writing is the only thing I'm willing to do. I guess being jaded the past year made me forget this.
I got a call yesterday about the resume I sent out on Monday night, and in a few days I go for an interview. "Bring you published, and unpublished work," the editor tells me. I don't have any recent unpublished work, and instantly my mind starts weaving stories that I cannot wait to pen down. Having not written a single thing for a month, I've forgoten what joy it is to write. At this new job, the boss struggles to find a word for a letter she's writing for the CEO, but the word comes so easily to me. This again, has proven to be what I've known for years but seemed to have forgotten: that I will live and breathe writing for the rest of my life.
What does this mean, really? Part of the reason I stepped into the corporate world was to make more money, and if I go back to writing, it will mean I have to watch my expenses carefully for the rest of my life. No more extravagant meals, no more buying nice things, trying to keep up with friends who have the money to do the things I really want. Can I resist? I think I will have to, for the next two or three years, if not the rest of my life.
PS: What kind of company do not have casual Fridays?
Thursday, October 30, 2008
1328
Say Ah
Ten days ago, I went for an interview and thought I didn't really do well. The interviewer was such a negative person, and I decided the job sucks anyway, and they cannot pay me the money I want. Surprisingly, I got a callback for a second interview. A couple of phone calls later, I said yes to it. It's tomorrow morning at an ungodly hour, and in this process, I've proven to myself that I am timid, and am a bad liar.
I'm most afraid of not exercising my brain while unemployed, and feel like it's turning into mush. Thankfully, a job came in this week so I have three days of creating nice sentences now.
Otherwise, the days have been spent going to quiz night and winning a pint of beer, live music, bumping into the same frenger three days in a row and hearing how I remind him of ghostworld and listening to stories about the good old days of local music, drinks and more drinks with friends, Sigur Ros comparisons that made me crack up, buying my Kraftwerk ticket, mango cheesecake, a nice buffet, house sitting, crapping with two of my fav people in separate occasions, phone calls from mum and dad telling me they're behind me, bumping into old colleagues, and etc, etc.
Now, to go look for something corporate to wear.
Monday, October 6, 2008
1543
I know this much is true
I haven't written for many reasons - mainly because I feel like I've got nothing to say anymore. I make up for the lack of writing here with many things: besides the usual dose of music, books and fights, a lot of thoughts swim around my head- thoughts that I cannot make sense of.
So I've left a job I loved at the beginning and hated towards the end. I yearn for a new start in life, but that isn't going very well.
One year older and none the wiser, the only thing I can vouch for is that I can never stop loving.
Kings of Leon, you disappoint AGAIN.