lights

a collaboration with a poet friend. for the passengers of the still missing MH370, victims of MH17 and QZ8501, and all their families.

'hindsight is 20/20' - thank you, 2013

I was at work a couple of nights ago, when my boss comes up to us jaded folk on the city news desk. And he said, "Write a year-ender piece!" to nobody in particular. I tried avoiding his eyes, and looked to the other people on the desk. I wondered if they thought the same thing I was thinking – that this year hasn’t really been a ‘professional’ year for me. I won’t say it’s been unproductive or pointless or any of that. It’s been great in many ways. And while it’s been pretty public in some ways, it’s also been excessively private (as I am wont to be).

This year has been extreme. The first six months were the total opposite of the last six months. And while I do not regret the first six months, I hope I don’t have to go through that combination of things again. A couple of them, sure. All factors put together? Well, I’m fairly certain I’ll never allow it to happen again, and I hope the powers-that-be agree with me.

To say it’s been an enlightening year would be a terrible understatement. I have learnt so much about myself, life, people and so on. In some ways, I have shocked myself and broken some rules. But I'd expected that since, like I’d mentioned, it’s been a year of extremes.

Before I began writing this, I read my ‘year-ender’ from 2011. Then too I was in a good place, but just beginning a journey that year that ended for me this year. The juxtaposition of the younger, more hopeful me back then, with who I am now has helped. I’ve realised that on occasion I've also begun saying things that make me sound like an old woman. Especially to a younger friend of mine who sometimes reminds me of myself when I was younger. All in all, I feel wiser at the end of this year. Far wiser. And happier than I think I’ve been in a while. It’s a bittersweet happiness sometimes; one that comes from a couple of scars and all that drama. But it’s no worse than I’ve already been through in my life.

I found myself telling a close friend that this has been a wonderful year. That every day, I am grateful for the thing that happened mid-June which drove me to another place in my life. I was not exaggerating. It sounds dramatic, and I may have used up my quota of clichés this year. But they’re all true. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, every cloud has a silver lining, oh and my favourite -- everything happens for a reason, and it will all make sense later. Some of these are terribly corny, especially when I say them out loud. But, well. *shrug*

2013 also made me realise one of the biggest cliches in the world rings true for me – that even if we have a plan and it goes awry, it’s usually for a bloody good reason. Even if it makes no sense why some people get away with wreaking havoc thoughtlessly in others’ lives, it’s again for a damn good reason. And that there’s no point caring about other people’s lives if they don't care for yours. People have joked about revenge with me. One asked me if something I did someway through the year was to spite someone who had hurt me. [Of course, this was from a male friend and they can be pretty dense, no matter how much they love me :)] I don't want revenge. I want world peace! Alright, that might be a bit hard. But I'd like to not hate people and also like not to be hated.

There are a lot of ‘I’s in this year-ender. I'm used to noting how many 'I's are there in my writing, scaling down on the subjectivity and all that. But I've spent too much time not thinking about myself earlier. And maybe, the things I’ve been shown and the epiphanies that have happened will all be shared with a friend along the way.

I'm not making any resolutions for 2014. I probably won't stick to them. And I'm seriously lacking in faith in humanity anyway. But I'll try this -- I'll try not to judge people. Or hate them for things they might to. Even if it hurts me. What's another little scar. I'll be bloody fine. =) Some tears, some laughter, it's all just part of a life of one human -- a little speck in the universe.

And if something really bothers me.. well there is always the pool of caramel that I wake up to each morning, which solves most problems anyway. My Labrador's eyes.

(anti) love

I am reading a book called Into The Wild now. And it is very inspiring. And impractical. I don’t see myself giving up everything, burning my money, and living among the trees. Yet, I somehow come across as [and enjoy coming across as] a nature lover, animal lover, whatnot. Slightly hypocritical no?

I wish I had the balls to do something like Chris McCandless. bluepapercranes and I were discussing this yesterday, and [literally and figuratively] we really don’t have the balls. She took a jump into a field that she loves - teaching kids for almost no money - which does not involve hours bent over a computer, her eyes tearing up, head throbbing, back withering. Now she wanders around barefoot in classrooms, giggling, hiding her tattoo from the kids, singing songs and teaching them grammar.

Love is a bit strange. It involves so much courage. Something I don’t think I have anymore. I had it once, not-so-long ago... but now I’m bitter and cynical almost to the very core of my being. I’m not saying I don’t love. Fortunately or unfortunately, I do. And very passionately at that. But I just don’t have the courage to believe in such love anymore.

I love writing. But I won’t give up my paid job at what is now a sad excuse for a weekend newspaper, and I won’t just plunge into it. And I’m not taking any chances with my life. I don’t think I have the balls.

Robert Lee Brewer said to write either a love poem or an anti love poem yesterday. I’m not in the mood for whiney poetry anymore [see below; also bluepapercranes may just kill me], but Brewer’s prompts do tend to bring out some writing from me. I just don’t know which side I am on this post - love, or anti love. I guess both. I believe in it, but it hurts too much to take chances anymore. [please don’t ask me if I’m talking about a boy!] I’m just going to go with the flow, and see what happens :)

mercury rising

It’s April and it’s already four degrees above the normal temperature where I live. In more ways than one. The world is truly coming to an end… we’re going to melt or drown very soon. So is our so-called democracy. I’m not going to preach or grumble about the media or democracy or elections or politicians… I’m going to sit back, eat some really juicy mangoes, and watch the fun unfold like I’m watching a really bad episode of Heroes. What can I say… I’m hooked to the news now. Unfortunately. And the news here is very bad. In fact it’s inspiring a lot of satirical writing from my end. In between juggling mangoes, the television remote and my laptop though I will also find time to go out and cast my first ever vote, in the coming parliamentary elections. Yes, maybe it’ll be a debacle. Maybe it already is a complete farce and debacle. Okay, it IS. Who am I kidding. But I will vote anyway. As a citizen of this godforsaken democracy. If I don’t care why should the politicians or media care. Damn.. Sorry. And I said I wouldn’t preach.

It’s just that my job involves reporting aforementioned debacles. A job which has taken over my life. That’s nothing new. My work in newspapers itself made me disappear from people’s lives for weeks. Television however is a totally different ballgame. A violent and extreme one at that. Call me a typical print journalist, but I haven’t been able to stomach television media. In my country at least. It’s not only bought all my time, it’s bought my entire life. My friends don’t know I’m alive… let me re-phrase… I have no friends who aren’t reporters now. And my mother actually asked me to quit so she could see me once in a way and put some fat on my bones. Which I’m glad to say I’ve done. [gasp again]. Which brings me to what am I going to do next? I don’t know [bigger gasp?]

Just because I’ve not posted anything on my blog in nearly [gasp!] a month, it does not mean I’m not writing. I have been. So joy to the world! It’s made me very happy, as well as sad. I’m now left wondering how on earth to make a profession out of this when I know nothing whatsoever about how to write or who to sell my writing to. Ahem, if anyone wants it that is. Currently on my plate are [wait, I’m counting] five, yes five, pieces of writing I need to complete asap. Not bad for someone who hadn’t touched pen and paper in almost two years. I have a miles to go before I sleep, though. Literally. And since I’m still working my notice period I have to juggle a 24/7 job and five incomplete scripts. Sigh. It’s April and it’s already four degrees above the normal temperature. I hope I can take the heat.