the commentary of my life

i spent the last hour reading through my posts from 2005 to 2007... remembered alot, relived some and chuckled over others.

almost a year and a half later , here i am again.

the urge to blog has returned.

this blog has always been me speaking to myself (and my imaginary audience) and it will remain that way. people don't know who i am and i prefer the anonymity. it frees me to type my mind's thoughts without restraint, without judgement. cowardice, perhaps but at least i feel free. absolutely free.

here, it doesn't matter if my opinions are biased, my language is flawed or if the topics i want to talk about are irrelevant to others. this is me, speaking to myself.

hello, how are you?

Carelessly pondering over my hesitation about beginning my travel journal, it struck me. Perhaps I am being cautious simply because this journal is a paper and pen adventure.

It's nothing like this blog. Here, like I have dozens of times, I can type and backspace, type and delete, and eventually delete an entire entry without leaving a trace of it ever existing. My writing in this space is transient; it lives as I fancy, and dies at my whim.

But paper and pen is a totally different story. After the tip touches the paper, a mark will forever be there - as a stain or a masterpiece. Sure I can cancel it out with a stroke, I can sweep over it with corrective liquid paper, but in a way, it will forever remain - as a mess or white-washed.

And I suppose that scares me. Partially because I crave perfection in my creations. To begin something this permanent - like getting a tattoo - I feel that I must think and rethink what I am about to put down on paper, before I am actually allowed to do so.

I once had a fleeting thought that I should type out my entries on my computer first. To have the time to mull over my draft; to change a noun here and there; to add an adjective or verb.

Yet, creativity in its purest form may not be semantically perfect, and it may not be poetry in motion. But in any case, the expression of creativity in itself is courage personified.

And I am still hiding in the safety net of the backspace button.

******

posted by the commentator @ 11.00am, Thursday 12 Jan 2006 from Los Angeles, CA

Even I was surprised. Even though I know the reason why.

It's been more than two months since I've written. My last foray into the corporate world left me beaten, emotionally. Sapped, mentally. So much so I evidently lost any penchant for writing; for even trying.

So I fixed things. Difficult as it was, I did. And while I was scared, I know it's a decision that I will not regret.

I quit. And two weeks later, boarded a plane and flew 14,000km to the City of Angels.

I've been in Los Angeles for about a month and a half now. It is a period of quiet rejuvenation. And I have taken that to mean chillin', loungin' and not doing much of anything. It's been a blast.

But now. Now I feel stronger, healthier and refreshed. Ready to take baby steps toward finding my self and strength. And I know it will be a turbulent journey, but through which I will definitely find what I seek, deep within me.

Shortly after I arrived, we visited the Getty Centre - an art museum and research facility perched on a hill. While browsing the souvenir store, I came across a beautiful journal bound with what is claimed to be Shakespeare's handwriting. I saw, I stopped, I picked it up, and without much deliberation, I placed it back upon the shelf.

The boyfriend asked why I didn't want to buy it; my reply was, I have nothing to fill it with.

A month or so later, I chanced upon the very same journal in Barnes & Noble. I saw, I stopped, I picked it up, and after some deliberation, I placed it back upon the shelf.

I asked myself why I still didn't want to buy it; my reply was, I'm not sure if I have anything to fill it with.

A week or so past. I'm not certain when it was that I started thinking of starting a travel journal. A chronicles of my experiences and thoughts these three months in a strange city, in an unfamiliar country.

So I returned to Barnes & Noble, and this time I went straight for it. I saw, I stopped, I picked it up, and after much deliberation, I headed for the check out counter.

Since then, I've taken care to retain little keepsakes of experiences: a movie ticket stub, the hotel bill from Palm Springs, a map of Las Vegas. While far from a camera whore, I've become more enthusiastic about snapping shots. The little things I can do to immortalise my memories here.

It's been a few weeks since. The Shakespearean journal I bought lays quietly in the Barnes & Noble bag it came in. I glance at it everyday, unsure of my feelings toward it.

Til now I am still a little wary, a little inert, of beginning where I left off. Of starting over.

But I will. And I shall. And it will be a damn good journal.

***

posted by the commentator @ 2.00pm on Wednesday, Jan 11 2006 from Los Angeles, CA

For a place which (claims to) exude fun, I'm having none at all.

Referencing my gripes last week about eating alone, an update: I still eat alone. But I got smarter. I started making lunch dates with ex-colleagues and galfriends in the vicinity. Makes it all so much better.

So end of last week, boss had a quick chat with me (read: 2-week assessment) and in summary:
1. I'm not outgoing enough because not all of the 250 staff in the building know I exist;
2. I still don't know the everything about everything after two weeks.

Of course point 2 above is still valid inspite of me being blatantly honest with her during my interview a month back that what motivated me (official excuse) to leave my old place is that I wasn't doing what I really wanted to be doing. And this new job offers that. So lets see, if I've never directly done work like this before, how can I be expected to know everything?

But she loves tossing questions like "Blah blah blah. Did you know that?" and like a fool, I have to admit that I don't.

Tsk tsk, you've got to know these things, she says.

I know I need to know. But I don't appreciate being put down because I don't at the moment.

It's things like these which explain the radical thoughts racing through my head the last two days. Radical thoughts that are crystallising. Radical thoughts that, with each passing hour, seem less and less radical. And more and more tempting.

And no, I'm not about to commit a felony.

Week 2 started on quite a sad note, and this has continued to today.

I eat alone.

Last week was full of socialising lunches - a few with the boss, one with the colleagues, etc. And on Monday, I realise working here by no means gives me automatic membership into the exclusive lunch cliques.

So yesterday I ate alone. And today I ate alone.

I'm not too certain if eating alone is the reason, but I haven't had much of a lunch appetite these 2 days. Which is quite amazing given my ferocious appetite of late.

Oh well.

God it's finally Friday. The 5th day of work and the last day of the week. I've been craving for this day to come because I NEED SLEEP.

Like I said, the early hours are totally bitchin'.

Plus there was only one of the four days that have past that I went home straight from work. I don't usually gallivant on weekday nights so for me, this week's social activity scale went through the roof.

Last night was by far the latest - I got home at 11pm. And okkkk, I know that seems early to many people. And it did for me when I was in my old job. But I will have you know, four consecutive days of (freaking) 7am takes its toll on a girl, alright!

And there was the other night when I went out for a simple dinner, got home at 9pm and lo and behold, was dead to the world by 1015pm. That is how tired I am.

But tonight, yet again, I'm having dinner with an ex-colleague so it's likely going to be a relatively late one again.

It is now 9am and I have already finished my first of many cups of drainwater-they-claim-to-be coffee.

Yawn.

Overall assessment: Not too bad.

New place is quite nice and cosy; boss is nice; colleagues are friendly. A shallow assessment of my portfolio tells me there's heaps to learn!

2 main gripes about this place:-

1. Early hours
God-forbid, I officially start work at freaking 830am. This wouldn't be that bad if it were flexible but apparently everyone comes in early/ on time. Even the last person to come in is at his desk by 845am.

This is a rude culture shock from my flexible 9.30am - 9.45am starting time. And even that was relaxed because ex-boss only saunters in at around 10.30am. Plus this new place is further (distance-wise) and more troublesome (public-transport-wise), so therein lies the longer-travelling time reason.

2. Caffeine!
One of the saving graces of my ex-place was an industrial-sized coffee-maker: press one button for a double shot expresso. Milk is fresh and at the side.

This place.. I cringe to even refer to that dispenser as a coffee-anything. The coffee is sour - and not in that American freshly brewed way. Plus I abhor powdered creamer. I mean, milk should be milk already.

So I guess there are adjustments to be made. Rude ones and fast.