I never know what to say around people who think they know what’s best for me. On one hand, I want to say “fuck off, I’m living my life best way I know how”, on the other hand, I don’t want to risk being shunned. Well, I don’t really care, but one must keep the image intact. God forbid anyone sees you at anything less than your 100%.
I keep going back to this memory anytime I am about to do something new. I am siting in class, chatting with my friends, and everyone is talking about a dream they have. Someone says they want to run their own company one day, and another one talks about how incredible and rewarding it would be if they could simply travel the world and experience the nomadic life. I nodded, oohed and aahed along with the rest of the amazed looks. When it was time for me to chime in, I said something about wanting to have a comic strip published in the newspaper. And then I said that I wanted to write a cute fun comic book, and it’s going to be based on our daily lives. Everyone looked at me with eyes wide open, filled with excitement. Someone said, OH MY GOD, LET’S DO THAT!! It would be so much fun. Continue reading →
I just came home like 10 minutes ago. I went to watch Me Before You at the Cinema and for the entire drive back home I was feeling rather subdued. I didn’t cry when the movie ended. I did enough of that after I read the book late last year. I worried the tears will come on the drive back. Some did eventually, but I was thankfully filling up my car with petrol when that happened. I couldn’t stop thinking about Will Traynor and Lou. Would anyone in his position choose to live?
**Do stop reading now if you haven’t read the book or watched the movie. I don’t know how to write this without revealing the plot or the ending. You’ve been warned. SPOILERS AHEAD.** Continue reading →
For as long as I could remember, I wanted to be something. When I was around 3 or 4, I remember having an oven with plastic plates, cups and food, and I would play pretend with my dad and he would pretend eat everything I made. I want to be a chef, I’ll cook for people because it makes them happy, yes, I want to be a chef, I thought. When I was 8 or 9, I remember writing a story that had come up when I was coming up with a lie to tell my parents about why I didn’t want to do something. I can’t remember the details, but I remember coming up with the story, I had the wildest imagination. I know, I can be a writer and a story teller. It’s fun, and it makes people feel something. Fast forward to a myriad of “I know what I want to be” moments throughout my adolescence and eventually throughout my adulthood.
The words are nothing but a jumble
The heart feels solid
The soul wanders, either searching or escaping
It’s pretty hard to push forward
Several months ago, I was sitting in my cubicle (a big fancy cubicle on the highest floor in the building where I worked). I felt trapped. I stared at my screen for hours, my mind wandered and I thought the same thing I’d been thinking for nearly a year. What on God’s earth am I doing here!?
I didn’t know how to answer that question. I genuinely didn’t know what kept me going, other than the money of course. I kept hearing “I’m not lost, not lost, just undiscovered” over and over. It was annoying at first, but I finally realized it was from the song Undiscovered by James Morrison. And it was exactly what I felt. I didn’t feel lost, I didn’t feel sad, I just wasn’t utilized. Potential oozed out of me. I worked as a web content and project manager for 4 years, and I was ready to give more but the ridiculous work politics made it impossible. I soon realized that I wasn’t willing to fight any longer, because I wasn’t passionate about my work any more. Continue reading →
Part of me knew that something like this would happen. That I would shut down after the words marathon my brain had – not willingly – participated in. I had never spent more than a few days writing in a row, let alone an entire month. It was a binge-like behavior. I was binge-writing and coming down from that high was a little depressing, I am not going to lie. It has felt like there weren’t any more words to write, as if my brain had run out of words.
I’ve mentioned this on my blog a few times before, but I’ve never actually written more than 10k words a year. This includes my diary, the myriad of blogs I’ve kept over the years, and any type of personal and recreational writing. For work, I would write nearly 40k words a year. Writing has always been a means to an end, despite the passion I have for it. Continue reading →
Looking back at the amount of journals I kept over the years – not necessarily keeping them filled and fed – and the number of blogs I started – again, not truly committing to them – and how many notes I have on my iPhone and even the old blackberry, notes about my feelings, emotions or experiences, all written down for posterity and a little bit of therapy, and finally, the folder I have on my computer that is called [My Writing], which is filled with word documents of things I wrote. I honestly don’t know how I can look at all of that, and still question my vocation as a writer, and natural attraction to write it all down – do I need someone to stamp it across my forehead in order for me to believe it? Continue reading →
When I look back at where I was 10 years ago, I realize just how much I changed. With no prospects whatsoever or any clue of what I was doing. I managed to make it this far. I want to put things in perspective. I now live. I read. I draw. I write. I create.
Once again, as it happened many times before, I find myself on the verge. Looking out with my hand towering over my forehead, eyes squinting, into the horizon. I wait.
When you start to feel like you’re not really sure what’s out there for you, what’s next and what you’re supposed to do, it’s very easy to get lost and feel stuck. Continue reading →