Literature & Life #1: To Live

For memory's sake,

especially since there's just too much going on for me to keep proper track of things:

TIME's All-Time 100 Novels List.

I should be reading a lot more than I have been;

the world's vaster than my desk at work, my bed at home and my upcoming wedding combined.

So I have a new resolution: I shall read one book off TIME's list every fortnight.

Last night while sitting on the swing, Clem and I were discussing about how the society we are a part of inhibits fullness of being, clips the wings of our imagination, sucks us dry. We are myopic, flat, uninspired, tepid - too focused on what we stand to gain from our successes than in how these experiences have enriched us and added another facet to our lives. Pragmatism is the disease of our society, the cancer that leaves us so empty with no space to dream and pursue those same dreams. There's no place for romance, no space for doing things solely for the heady rush of doing them, no time to savour each moment. I'm not saying these don't exist, but they're rare and sparse among us who are bogged down by neccessities.

This might perhaps illustrate my analogy above a little better:

I see myself as a raw gemstone, with every experience big or small, significant or seemingly insignificant, adding another facet to me. Adding to my brilliance, changing the way I reflect and appear to others, changing the way I am made up, changing who I am. In that same vein, all the arts should function that way on top of their entertainment value.

So in short, books feed my soul, are a means for me to experience the larger world outside my current circumstance, shape me. Some people have their music, others have their art, theatre or dance. I have my literary pursuits, for a lack of a better word. Reading, writing, reading, and then writing again - all in the attempt to add on layer upon layer of vicarious experience and ideas onto myself.

Travelling, too.

But I tell myself there's a time for that, there will be a time for that, though that time is not now.

(Can't possibly be travelling to one new destination a week - much as I would love to - , can I?)

So many financial responsibilities, so little time, and just one of me.

Some Instagrams that sometimes seem more accurate in their filtered distortions than real life itself.

After all, perception and life as a whole, is a lot more subjective than we'd like to admit.

  

In a (poor) attempt at captioning:

Dusk and night sky, twilight interstitiality, pop colours, sameness/difference, glass half full.

Rather quiet day at work today (read: boring), so I figured that it's time to make good on my promise to try to blog more frequently. Had a really rested weekend so am glad that I could start this work week so fresh and happy :) I'm thinking I might want to start asking around for more beauty/fashion writing, cos all I've done so far are mostly promo pieces which I'm thinking will only be useful if I'm trying to get a job in advertising or copywriting. Um well, beauty/fashion writing will not help me get a job in PR, but I can indulge myself and my interests since I'm working for nothing right. :P

Wanderlust is setting in really quickly and badly. Friends are jetting off for the Christmas season and while I'm so excited for them, I half-wish I could leave the country toooooo. :( Cheryl's gone to Abu Dhabi (OMG!!!!), Trina's just left for HK, Angel&Matt are in Australia.. Such happening Christmases!! But actually come to think about it, the last Christmas I spent out of the country wasn't quite as exciting as I thought it would be. Clem and I spent Christmas 2009 in New York City, and we imagined that it would be oh-so-glamourous, balls of fun etcetra etcetra. As you can probably guess from the way this is going, it wasn't all as cut up as I'd imagined, and I wished I was home with friends and family revelling in lots of warm fuzzy moments and parties. Okay so no more Christmases away from home, I should be happy with my lot.

I hate to jump from topic to topic like that, but exam results are coming out tomorrow!! A part of me doesn't give a f**k anymore, but the part of me that slaved so hard over the semester cares too much and is freaking out at the thought that all this will be over soon. It's funny how things that mattered so much just weeks ago have taken on a different significance so quickly, and I wonder at what really and truly matters in the midst of so many important and significant things that become clutter within a matter of weeks or months. At this point in time, these are the four things that matter most to me - in no order of importance. Perhaps by listing these out, it'll help streamline my whirling thoughts a little.

1) Preparation for my upcoming wedding day and a lifetime of marriage thereafter.
2) Getting my job - which I seriously should have put more thought into before this so that I could have done the relevant internships/research and misc preparation.
3) Spending time with family and close friends since things will surely change in a short 11 months.
4) Putting my spiritual life and relationship with God in the equation at all times.



I honestly can't wait for point 2 to be settled, so that point 1 will be helped along and it'll put me in a much better disposition to work on points 3 and 4. Praying for a miracle to take place and for my job offer to come through by end-Jan. Dear God, please please PLEASE!!!

Thou shall not complain

Being an intern post-graduation is really tough. On one hand, I relish the challenge of doing something so utterly new, working on a glossy women's magazine and writing little features here and there: fashion and beauty journalism has been something I've always wanted to try but haven't had the chance to - until now. On the other hand, it's hard being the lowest lifeform who has very little monetary incentive (read: zero, actually) and is struggling to earn some form of income to support herself. I'm trying not to complain because truth be told, I do enjoy the work I'm doing every day and I really appreciate the opportunities to write something that is going to be published. The industry is so hard to get into, especially the fashion/beauty journalism I have always dreamed of working in. So I'm taking all the chances I've been given with grateful hands and a positive attitude - although the parental disapproval at my perceived "free labour status" is almost as tough to deal with the fact itself.

Although I'm interning more than working, I'm trying to take this as I would an actual job - making sure I get enough rest every night so that I can do a good job the next day in whatever I'm tasked to do. Hopefully, I'll have something lined up for me once I'm done in Feb, although I'm thinking now that I'd like to take a nice two or three week break after my internship ends before I begin whatever's waiting for me next. I do tire of telling people who ask what I'm going to do now that I've graduated that "I don't know what job I'll end up taking, nothing's certain at the moment" - it makes me question my own abilities. But uncertainty's something I have to learn to embrace, although it's definitely an awkward, uncomfortable pill to swallow.

As for what I've learnt in the last couple of days, I'd say I've learnt the most about being confident enough to not hide in my corner and hope that someone will notice me and say hello to me. There's no place for shyness and aloofness in the office. If you want to be talked to, you have to go talk to people first. I hate it, because I'm naturally reserved and generally pathetic at meeting new people - but it is something I have to learn to do. Especially with all the possible career paths I'm contemplating - journalism, Public Relations.. All of which, ironically, are unforgiving to the reserved who insist on remaining as such.

If I could though, I'd give anything to be a stay-at-home writer. I can write to my heart's content in the comfort of my cosy bed, where my time is flexible and my own, and I can let my imagination run unbridled and the words flow. Ahh. Dreams. We all have them, even at the grand old age of 23.