A few months ago, my life spiralled out of control. And as quickly as I rose to what some people may consider the pinnacle of academic success, it took me just as fast to tumble back down. But I am glad to announce that I’m back in school. 🙂
These few months have really been a journey for me. Law School drop out (LSD) turned amateur writer, I had to pick myself up and brush off the dust from my mighty fall, apply for various jobs and finally walk out of the nights I would spend burning mindlessly through readings I did not understand and days in which I would end drowning in my own tears. Its not easy walking out of your comfort zone (when has it ever been?), definitely not easy having to pursue your passion when your skills don’t back you up, and worst of all (applies to me only lah), having to experience a change of environment over and over again.
Its my second day at school, and although I’m not quite close to being happy again, I think I will be soon. I can feel opportunities bashfully hiding in corners of my lecture halls, and seedlings of comfort eagerly awaiting blossom. I cannot say I feel right here, but I think I will feel that way soon. At least I hope I will—and that’s a great start.
P.S: I’m the new food writer for Poached Magazine, so show me some love when you spot my reviews!
There will come one day where you will forget the sound of keys chattering beneath your fingers, the feeling of fullness when words fill you up, the satisfaction of seeing black ink on blank canvas. There will come one day where you cannot remember how, what or why. There will come one day where you hit rock bottom and have to start all over again. And what will come as a surprise is that you’ll actually feel okay.
Letting go of everything that keeps you anchored is scary. It is more than scary. It is frightening, petrifying. It is the first time someone took away your safety blanket. But letting go of everything that validates you also makes you hungry. It is a kind of hunger that reeks of desperation, and desperation is a good thing. It makes you want to learn, it makes you want to lap up knowledge like a starving stray cat. It lets you put yourself out there with zero remuneration, it humbles you, liberates you and reminds you that as much as you are something, you are also nothing.
It is okay to start over. It is okay to leave things unfinished and start brand new even if it means you spend week after week wallowing in tears, hopelessness and unworthiness. Because when they begin fade away, you are fearless, famished and so much better than you ever were.
It feels a little lonely tonight. Just a little. Maybe the air is two and a half degrees too cold and the night sky four shades too dark. Maybe its six and a quarter decibels too quiet and three minutes too fast. Maybe there are no reasons to why I happen to feel alone tonight, just like how there are no reasons to why I shouldn’t.
I have somehow or rather accepted the fact that I won’t be getting any sleep tonight, and I still don’t get why I’m still trying so hard. I am desperate to leave this mess , and this desperation seems to escalate with every case I am forced to dissect and every word I am forced to burn into memory. I am lesser of who I am, and more of who they want me to be. I don’t try anymore, I don’t fight. I have possibly given up on most of the things that I thought were extremely important to me, but now seem to be of no value to anyone, or anything here. I am desperate to leave and to reclaim the things I have lost. I am desperate to leave, but afraid that this mess extends further than what seems to be.
Sometimes people will make you feel worthless. They will make you feel like you’ve been relegated to the bottom of the food chain. And for 6 weeks now, I’ve been swimming around like krill, my sole purpose of existence to fill the bottomless, souless bellies of these whales that surround me every single day. And for 6 weeks now, I have failed to retaliate. But soon you will realize that, when cornered, desperate people can achieve even the most unbelievable feats. And right now, this is me.
I am messed up, I admit that. I have no solid plans for what lies ahead, neither do I have any plans for now. I am about to throw away what seems to be a blindingly bright future and walk the unknown path in the search for happiness. I am not sure if it even exists, or if its too elusive to belong to someone like me, but unhappiness is something you should never get accustomed to. Happiness may not exist, but you should never stop searching for it. And if in this course of forage brings broken noses and scraped knees, count me in. There is never a losing battle, because every time you put up a fight, you’ve already won.
This blog could easily be the best thing that happened to me in 2012 (although the year has barely started.) Besides reminding me of the fact that I can actually churn out posts that vaguely resemble something legible, it is also my incinerator for all things annoying, depressing and worth bitching about in life. A plus point would also definitely be that not many know about or willingly come here to listen to my incessant whining and over dramatised recounts of life, which makes it so much easier to actually post about things that matter.
Attempted to ombre my hair today, not at a salon, but at home, in front of a sink, with two boxes of pharmacy bought dye and a strong soul able to withstand the aftermath. I guess I got too bored after being night-grounded by Mop and this was my mediocre attempt at trying to piss her off. Okay, so I wasn’t night grounded. But Mop wasn’t elated with the epic night last Saturday and has repeatedly tried to talk to me about “late nights out in sleazy places”, talks which turn into arguments, which she eventually loses and ends with me telling her “This discussion is not over Moppy.” I have been wanting to have this “darling daughter all grown up” talk with her since forever, but I have no idea why we haven’t so much as passed the egg shell with the topic yet. I will post more about the conflict between Mop and I soon, probably after I return triumphant from the final argument.
See, this post is proof that I am capable of blogging about things that do not involve a) broken friendships b) alochol c) being judged and d) trust issues. I am perfectly competent at posting interesting snippets of my otherwise mundane life, all with a splash of humor as seasoning. Oh and regarding the outcome of my ombre-d hair? Its a mess. But I quite like it, because for once, how I look outside and how I feel inside are aligned.
I just had to end this in a less than cheery tone. (Hehe)
I think if I met myself, I wouldn’t want to make friends with myself. And I think I’ve said that more than once. Just listening to my voice is enough to irk me. So kudos to those who are still gungho enough to be my friend, I applaud your inhumane amounts of courage, tolerance and good taste. 😀
Fishing with the 12 usuals today, and we reaped more than we could ever expect. Sometimes you have to go with an empty heart and a willingness to try new things in order to be rewarded with the good stuff. Besides the blue spotted stingray and the two abnormally huge Patin fishes, we walked away with a little bit more appreciation for nature and a little bit more valuation of the quiet times friends can spend together without technology or luxurious food (with the exception of a $22 sushi set and frantic uploading of our catch on Facebook). Sometimes we just have to step away from the crowded hustle and bustle of the city life and into the quaint and relatively more rural suburbs to be reminded of the finer things in life. Sometimes its not the things you do, but the people around you that matter.
I’m lucky to have such friends.
I just spent 3 hours debating whether or not to buy this gorgeous dress I saw online. Ok, maybe it isn’t gorgeous, but it does look pretty, and I haven’t purchased a new dress in like forever. The old me would have bought it without a single ounce of hesitation, considering the fact that is costs less than $30SGD, which in my opinion is fairly reasonable a price. Yet now I cannot bring myself to buy the dress! My expenditure has been outrageous recently, despite the generous ang paos handed to me over the new year. My bank account is bordering empty and I haven’t even been shopping much! I put the blame on the temptations of private transportation, and my unhealthy addiction to travelling in cabs. Yes, from today onwards I will try my best to stay away from those money suckers and hopefully I will stop bleeding from my pockets.
I have also realised that my loath for sunlight (or UV rays) have become baneful. I think many of my friends would triumphantly shout “I told you so!” since the lengths I go to evading Mr Sunshine have provided an interesting source of entertainment for them. Besides the daily application of SPF 130 sunblock and the propping of a brolly when exposed to the great unshaded territories, I now also feel the urge to stay indoors all the time when the sun is out. That is also why I jog at night – because there is no sun! My mother has also begun to notice my conscientious effort in trying to hide from the sun. I think I need to find the vampire coven, I’m sure I am part vampire…well at least the part where they go up in a puff of smoke in the sun, thus explaining my antagonistic attitude towards light.
Totally random, but there’s a mosquito bite on my neck. And a sudden thought that pretentious girls are all kinds of nauseating. I wonder why the boys are completely unaware and unable to detect the pungent smell of grandiloquence. Perhaps they lack a certain radar which has been cleverly overwritten by their inexplicable attraction to batting eyelashes and high pitched voices.
I just spent the entire day catching up with Season 5 of Gossip Girl and as usual, it has left me extremely frustrated and bothered. Why the scriptwriters cannot stop screwing with Chuck and Blair’s relationship confounds me. After 5 seasons of the so called “I love you but I cannot be with you” drama, everyone is just tearing their hair out and screaming “just let them together already”. Well, at least I am.
Also, as if by divine intervention, I have been jogging rather frequently this week. And by frequently I mean thrice. Which can also be considered a new world record taking into account the fact that I hardly deviate from the TV and couch. However, I am not going to be pretentious and declare myself an exercise junkie because I truthfully do not enjoy the process of exercising. Not even a single bit. Unlike those who evangelize the physical and mental benefits running brings, I honestly do not feel happier nor healthier after running. Unless you count the fact that my limbs are aching painfully and that pain equates health. I am still awaiting the magical moment where I finally, with the help of some higher power, feel the inexplicable joys of exercising and the rush of adrenaline that can keep one feeling thrilled throughout the day. But until then, I shall rely on my playlist of Boyce Avenue covers to get me through the arduous journey of exercising.
Besides, the woes of a single teenager extend beyond that of trying to keep healthy and fit. As the big Vday draws near, the single lady has to find a way to keep herself occupied while those who have foolishly surrendered their freedom take their place and make out all night in dimly lit corners of restaurants. Needless to say, I have ordered myself a wonderful bouquet of peonies as a form of reward for having to survive my second Valentine without a proper date. And as much as it pains me to admit it, congratulations to the lucky girls and guys who have found themselves someone to love and share such a special day with. You make me sick with jealousy. That’s not to say that singlehood is detestable and shameful, but everyone wants to have someone to clink champagne glasses with while laughing as though hopelessly and foolishly in love right?
But to all those who remain soberly single this Valentine’s, know that you’re not alone. Walk into the nearest florist and get yourself a nice bouquet of roses. You deserve it. Who gives a hoot about Valentine’s anyway, as much as it sounds like sour grapes, the big V is seriously overrated.