Sunday, October 30, 2005
2am realisation
2 am.I heard a voice.It was my gut feeling.
It felt wrong being here.I looked around me and saw no
future.I knew I shouldn’t have said yes for this job, though
the money was great in the end of it all but I knew that I will
not get paid instantly , not at least until 90 days later.I’ve
dealt with these jokers before , I was only thinking about
the money, not how I’d feel to be working almost 18 hours
a day,wasted hours cause of waiting for my turn to use
the machine.They haven’t change one bit, after a year
later.I know I did and so did my heart and soul.In the
midst of the early morning rush,I felt that I no longer
could endulge myself into bringing myself to toil over
work which could be done during the day and not wait
till evening comes.It’s ridiculuos to come to think of it.
4am.My gut feeling seemed to be boiling like soup in
the pit of my stomach.That’s it.The temperature has
reached its boiling point.I finished what I was supposed
to do and left.As I drove back, things begin to clear from
the back of my mind.It seemed to me that I wasn’t interested
in what the job was about neither was I driven to do so.
Don’t really know why, though.I realised that from that
moment on, my passion to be what I wanted to be in the
first place has diminished.I had no idea what caused the
lost of that feeling.I still have my sense of direction.I know
that I wanted to be happy,to do something which I have
disregard all these years.I realised that I still capable of
writing and it felt good when words just seemed to flow
faster than my hands could type, as I speak of now.
It almost felt like my muse has came back to me,
or did I really have one? I do not know but what I do know is,
I can’t stop writing and I do hope that they would call me
back to set up an interview.Despite tha fact that I’ve never
written professionally I’d figured that maybe it is about
time I do.I have no paper or the experience for a writer
but I do have the passion.That’s all that matters.I still
do love art and design, that shall be done in all the good
times.But there is no harm being an artist contributing for
the magazine.What captured my interest was that I get
to have fun, take pictures and write about the fun of it all.
Apart from that, I get paid to write about having fun at
clubs and events.I love to take pictures, I love to write
and on the side I could be an artist.Cross my fingers,
toss salt from all three corners over my shoulder,
break a plate, wear a rabbit foot around my neck,
hang a horse shoe on the wall,place a ‘fatt choi mao’
a fortune cat facing the opposite direction of where
I sleep and finally don’t talk about it.Talking too much
about it will jinxed it.Therefore I will shut the fuck up
and get to bed.Have a goodnight.
It felt wrong being here.I looked around me and saw no
future.I knew I shouldn’t have said yes for this job, though
the money was great in the end of it all but I knew that I will
not get paid instantly , not at least until 90 days later.I’ve
dealt with these jokers before , I was only thinking about
the money, not how I’d feel to be working almost 18 hours
a day,wasted hours cause of waiting for my turn to use
the machine.They haven’t change one bit, after a year
later.I know I did and so did my heart and soul.In the
midst of the early morning rush,I felt that I no longer
could endulge myself into bringing myself to toil over
work which could be done during the day and not wait
till evening comes.It’s ridiculuos to come to think of it.
4am.My gut feeling seemed to be boiling like soup in
the pit of my stomach.That’s it.The temperature has
reached its boiling point.I finished what I was supposed
to do and left.As I drove back, things begin to clear from
the back of my mind.It seemed to me that I wasn’t interested
in what the job was about neither was I driven to do so.
Don’t really know why, though.I realised that from that
moment on, my passion to be what I wanted to be in the
first place has diminished.I had no idea what caused the
lost of that feeling.I still have my sense of direction.I know
that I wanted to be happy,to do something which I have
disregard all these years.I realised that I still capable of
writing and it felt good when words just seemed to flow
faster than my hands could type, as I speak of now.
It almost felt like my muse has came back to me,
or did I really have one? I do not know but what I do know is,
I can’t stop writing and I do hope that they would call me
back to set up an interview.Despite tha fact that I’ve never
written professionally I’d figured that maybe it is about
time I do.I have no paper or the experience for a writer
but I do have the passion.That’s all that matters.I still
do love art and design, that shall be done in all the good
times.But there is no harm being an artist contributing for
the magazine.What captured my interest was that I get
to have fun, take pictures and write about the fun of it all.
Apart from that, I get paid to write about having fun at
clubs and events.I love to take pictures, I love to write
and on the side I could be an artist.Cross my fingers,
toss salt from all three corners over my shoulder,
break a plate, wear a rabbit foot around my neck,
hang a horse shoe on the wall,place a ‘fatt choi mao’
a fortune cat facing the opposite direction of where
I sleep and finally don’t talk about it.Talking too much
about it will jinxed it.Therefore I will shut the fuck up
and get to bed.Have a goodnight.
