Jet Lag Still

It's been 4 days now. Still having jet lags. I tried adjusting myself to the closest time possible where my eyelids get heavy and I'll feel drowsy during my off peak hours. Basic graph, an intersection point between exhaustion and curfew. Unnecessary math.
Of course. That rarely happens.

Job hunting in Malaysia isn't as easy as it seems.At least for my case. Especially when I'm in an industry that nobody - no offense - really gives a damn about. That doesn't make it more simple in Europe. But I think that it's because I'm consistently looking for something easy and comfortable in the past, I never realised that being afraid of something actually has it's benefits. It's definitely not there to frighten you. It's there to let you know that it's worth it. There are no advancements and I'll continue repeating the exact mistakes if I stay inside the box. I have no idea what I'm doing. Maybe nobody does. I use to know what I really want when I was young and the sky seems at reach. I'm still an optimist about this. In the mean time I'll keep on writing.

Guess I'll just continue counting space balls and chant the opening lines of Bastille s' Pompeii then change to Nursery Rhymes afterwards. I'm just trying to sleep here. But I can't.
Perhaps jet lag is better than caffeine. Sheep counting is for kids. We count space balls now.

Photo Diary: Printemps à Paris 2013

Photos by Me

I'm back. Now what.

I'm officially back home after a year being abroad, and it is strange.

Strange to actually be back home. I don't know when I'll be back in London with Lawrence again, which I secretly hope so. This means I have to work extra hard for it. Still, nothing feels like home. It felt spacious, surreal, almost too hot for a headache. 

It didn't sink in yet on the first day I arrived. Not until the next day when I woke up and I realised -Hey, I'm home. I'm actually home. Now what.

I started editing my resume and writing cover letters ever since I came back home. I felt rested in London, quite pumped up feeling the need to do something. The thing about interning in London, is that every where you go, there will be a speck of dust over thin air that will inspire you and take you places. Vibes that I don't usually get while in Malaysia. This case I must at least send out a few while them happy spirits are still within me. Weird. What did I just say.

 

Not sure if I wanna keep blogging. Perhaps I will but under a different name. which means I don't really get to post up pictures of myself. Since I'm back home, I'd figure personal space would be crucial to me. I hope familiar beings would understand that I really need my own space to share my thoughts. Especially since my boyfriend is 6000 miles away from me. Hurrah.
I said '' back home '' too many times. 

Photo by Lawrence Woodford

On Why do the Ants owe me a Big Apology

It distracted my boyfriend, making him literally immune to the responsibility of showering unconditional love to keep his Queen alive, when it should be me instead. I insisted on actually trying not to care what has been persistently going on. But those days were long gone. It’s been happening for quite some time now ever since he started reading about Ants a year ago.
Okay fine that was before we met each other, but even so, you see my point.
Now. I’m writing about this merely for the sake of killing time while Lawrence continues his interesting hobby about raising Ant colonies in his room next to where he sleeps. Next to my Doritos. Next to the best light. Next to the wide, sleek, flatter than my singing chords TV. So whenever he’s feeding the Queen, I’ll be here after a long day of work.
Colonies with an ‘ S ‘. And yes, I’m an attention-seeking girl.

It is difficult, writing from memory like this. I knew I should have written down every detail when I was actually there. Like how my friends and I worked our butts off during an internship in Paris, how I met Taylor Swift backstage, that trip to Italy, how Fergie said I was cute, and the jitters during my interview in London. I was a fool to not have them recorded. But when the memories are far more vivid than they are, I would deliberately sit down in front of the screen and try to write about it, for me. But as always I can’t seem to produce a line. I knew that if I did, the rest would flow quite easily throughout the page. Though I can never make that happen because I have no clue where to start. The more I try to recall, the more easily it’ll slip and fade away. So here I am, trying to convince myself to pour it all out before I forget. The imperfect memories with imperfect thoughts and a slight exaggeration. Slightly.

Last day of Internship

I’m still unsure about what I’m about to do next when I return home. But I’m certain that I need to build my identity capital at this time. After almost a year being away, soon enough you discover that it’s not a want anymore. It became more of a need. A need to make something out of nothing. Being here in London motivates me in inexplicable ways. Taking up this internship seems daunting, somewhat unreal at times. It’s been amazing so far that I’m so afraid that one day I might just wake up from somewhere only to realise that it’s a just a plain dream untouched.

Sometimes I wish I can convince myself enough that whatever I do now will influence only me and my decisions alone, It was never for other people s’ sake. I think it’s alright to not know what I want. But it does not mean that I have time. I do have time right now, but he would never be on either sides or decide to stop the waves for me. Last year at this time I was getting ready, all packed up for Paris. And I remember that I was so sure that I’d make it somehow. I don’t know what, or why.

But Yeah I’m still gonna be an optimist about this. 

Introduction

I just got back an hour ago catching up with great friends that uplifted my spirits. Had a few drinks to hide all that’s left of Sunday before it hits Monday again. If there’s anything impolite I’ve said, it’s probably I had a few too many. It’s surprising what alcohol does to me. It got me hyped up and I tend to talk a lot for instance. But then I will face the fact that it’s almost 1 a.m. now and I can’t find anyone to debate random subjects with. Do not applaud.

I’ve been thinking of writing about my experiences for some time now. And perhaps this will be something that I will look at whenever I feel inferior, or doubtful about myself. I understand that having this might jeopardise a portion of my life. It could be my career,  my reputation and worst , my family and friends. I know. At the end of the day, I just want a little bit of space that I can call my own. It is something that I want to share with strangers in hopes that there is that one person whom I can relate to. I started this, because I gave up on what other people think of me a very long time ago.