Threw Myself Out and Got Smashed

I got invited to a party last week and yes, I turned up. I told myself that this house louse (that's moi) needs to go out and socialise before she starts to get people-phobia and that she needs to put her ass on the market before she is shelved permanently.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not desperate and somewhere at the back of my mine, I know I'm pretty happy being single. But there is a limit to how much time I can spend with myself in a healthy way. And if I think I have been spending just a leeeeetle too much time alone, I know its time to throw myself out there.

Well, I did throw myself out there and I had a smashing time. As in, I got "smashed". Never mind that it was the birthday celebration of an old buddy of mine whom I haven't met in eonks but when I stepped into the place, I was inwardly horrified that I didn't recognise a single soul in there!

My first instinct was to smile, ignore that pulsating rhythm in my throat and head for the vodka. Pretty soon I was having a good time and became the life of the party. Well, in my head anyway (in my very tipsy head). I have a fuzzy memory of playing some games, I remember shooting people with my fingers, having cards stuck to my forehead and people going, "OHH, driiiiink!!!"

All in all, I would say it was fun because it really was all fun and games. There wasn't much room or enough sobriety for intellectual conversation so it was pretty much a night of superficial entertainment, which was exactly what I was looking for I guess. Also it was one of those parties to just get back into the social circles so that I would get invited to other parties in the future. You know, once in a while, a girl wants to go out and have a superficial night.

And when I woke up next morning, I faced the consequences of the previous day's excessive drinking - sandpaper mouth and temple throbbing. However, two days later, I got invited to another night out in town (success!) which I wisely declined since I still had not rid the alcohol from my system yet. And I did get an online private message from a guy I met at the party. So I guess, it was a successful night and everything turned out the way I hoped it would.

The Writing Profession

Alright, I think its about time I started sharing my experiences as a writer instead of sweeping it under the carpet as if nothing happened. So I took the big leap last year, decided I had enough of the friggin' rat race of working in a bank, left Singapore, returned to my hometown, KL, and started a job with a salary a third of what I used to make. I wanted to follow my heart, I said.

I want to be a writer.

"What makes you think you want to be a writer?", "What makes you think it'll be any different from any other job?", "It's all the same in the end, you'll get jaded and then what? Job hop again?", "Do you have any talent in this field?", "WHY?", "That's new..", "I hope you don't regret it."

I'd like to think I make my choices in life without regards to anybody's opinion or approval. But if I said I didn't, I would be lying. Because there are so many people I care about who want the best for me. And if I always thought I knew what was best for myself or that there was nothing new I could ever learn from someone else, then I may as well be dead.

And so to me, this was important. I didn't want to let everyone down again, especially myself. I hoped I was right to make this crazy leap into an industry I had no experience in. Starting all over from the bottom and here I am, 2 years from 30. No spring chicken and not so much room left for another brand new start.

What is it like to be a writer? Well, it's a lot of hard work, dedication and one must have a deep burning passion for writing. Admittedly, I did have visions of glamour and glory. And then reality stepped in and gave my visions a kick in the ass.

Where I worked the writers did not get accredited for our articles. I really wanted and still want to see my name in print above my contributions. Unfortunately that is not the policy in my company. And my she-boss, she breathes down our collars and throws a tantrum if she thinks we haven't worked hard enough. In my second week, she gave me two deadlines in the same day, one for a dry-as-hell business book review and the other, an interview which I had to rush back to the office and write a 2-page advertorial.

And try this for size, she hates it when we go for an hour's lunch. Hey, but isn't that in the labour law? I mean, we need to take a break and EAT!! In my contract, work ends at 6pm (snide snort) but really, nobody leaves before she-boss leaves and she-boss leaves between 8pm to 9pm. 7.30pm is considered an early night, almost a lottery strike. On deadline night before the magazine went for printing, I stayed past 11pm.

And so, basically I am repeating all that I've said and complained to just about everybody I knew or bothered to listen. Before the month was over, I was frantically calling my friends up, looking for favours to get into a better company and desperately looking through the usual classifieds - JobsDB.com, Jobstreet.

At the end of the month, she-boss hands me the offer letter via her secretary and I was so close, so, so close to rejecting it. I was so full of reasons and excuses to just walk out of there and be free again! Many mornings I woke up, utterly decided that today was going to be the day I walked from the company. I was so close and she knew it.

Well, I didn't walk. And I signed the contract.

On that day, I had the "I quit" speech all ready in my head. As I sat at my desk, somebody handed me my assignment for the day. It was a business article. I had to absorb a piece of news on some corporation's latest merger, research on the net for more information and produce a 2 page write up on the same day. Topic was dry as the desert.

Funny thing is, as I sat at my desk and went to work, I just got caught up with the process of writing and I felt peace. It didn't matter that the topic was boring as hell, I wanted to write it in an interesting angle, and come up with something comprehensible, not some shitty piece of work that just sounds intellectual but no one gets it in the end. Completing the article, I felt a sense of satisfaction. And boy, did I feel good when she-boss and her faithful assholic deputy read my article and gave their silent approval. It went straight to print.

And that was what happened everyday that I wanted to quit. It was one terrible day followed by a good day and things just weren't so bad anymore. But that wasn't the only thing that held me back. I spent whatever time I had left after work reflecting on myself. Yes, I do that all the time, its a specialty of mine actually. And I was secretly very worried about my own character. I was very, very afraid that I was deep-down, a serial job-hopper. What if.. the problem was really me?

Sure, she-boss had her anal moments, but who didn't? I was anal half the time too. I can be pretty demanding and stubborn as a mule. Everyday I left for a full hour's lunch I knew it pissed her off, but I did it anyway. But only because I felt entitled to it. The other stuff, well, they come with every other job. I was just being fussy and reluctant to leave my freedom behind. I realised I was always focusing on the negative aspects of the job, a trait which I knew if I couldn't rectify I would be unsuccesful in every and any thing I did.

So.. I told myself to step back and concentrate on the good stuff. And then, I started to feel more fulfilled and I was able to enjoy (no kidding) my job. Not all of it, that would be asking for the world, but most of it, I guess. She-boss may keep crazy hours but only because she is so hardworking and she cares about the work. I mean, when I think about it, would I want to work for a heck-cares boss? She also takes the effort to sit down with us to give us advice or constructive criticism (sometimes hard to swallow) which I do appreciate a lot, really. She wants us to be better writers and I am grateful to her for that.

One more great thing about her, she appreciates good work. She can be in a foul mood but when she reads something she likes, its like a storm cloud lifts off her head and all is good again. And so far, she seems to like what I write. She even gave me some rein to write on a topic I suggested. She gave me two working days and the weekend (I know, my weekend but I'm not counting..not really) to come up with a piece that will blow her away.

And what do I do? I spend the last hour writing this blog. Okay, so its summation time. Basically, the point I'm getting to is, that I believe I have found something I'm passionate about and not because everything is perfect and beautiful all the time. But because even in the bad times, the down times, I am still able to find something good and fulfilling to make it worthwhile. I really enjoy the process of writing a story and I want to get better and better at it. In my free time, I will either read or write ( I watch CSI and American Idol too) and so, yeah, I think this is it.

And writing? It isn't that easy. It requires a lot of research and some will-power too. We don't get to choose what we write. I had to write a whole bunch of stuff on the most boring topics in the world. And whatever we are given, even if its about aerodynamics or biomedical engineering, we have to learn, absorb, research and understand it then produce an article that is substantial and comprehensible. So it isn't always fun and games and going to spas or food-tasting at restaurants. It is a lot of hard work and brain-churning. And surprisingly, I like it.

Oh, right. And Happy Valentine's Day!!

Irrational

I don't think men will ever understand how a woman feels when she's going through one of those days. All men know is that we're bitches when its "that time of the month". But they don't understand how much we're feeling and hurting inside. How every innocent quip sounds like a personal attack on us, even though we realise how ridiculous and irrational we are being in some sane corner at the back of our minds. How we are just so angry inside at everything especially ourselves and how ugly we feel. How we need to lock ourselves away to protect others from ourselves and to have some quiet time to heal. How the tears just keep rolling down our cheeks and we can't understand it ourselves but we can't stop it. Well, I'm going through one now and thank god I've gone through enough to understand myself well and to be able to comfort myself at a difficult time like this to just love myself and look forward to a new morning when I'll be back to my usual self, and be able to treat the people around me with more care.