Take a walk with me and I'll tell you a story. My story. You see, sometimes I think I don't talk about myself enough. People tend to develop strange assumptions based on what they perceive, and what they perceive is based on what we choose to show. So this is a dedication to me, in all its self-loving, self-loathing, narcissistic glory.

Now, I'm the kind of person who throws away furniture and repaints an entire bedroom when depressed. I'm the kind of person who buys a pet fish just because of one lonely night. I'm the kind of person who helps old people with stairs but gets irritated by beggars who work eateries. I'm the kind of person who spends hundreds on clothes but calculates beer savings to the dollar.

I'm the kind of girl that needed a man to discover her woman. I'm the kind of girl that knows the difference between feminism and gender supremacy. I'm the kind of girl that will always feel guilty for eating that extra piece of pastry. I'm the kind of girl that cringes at the sight of blood and melts at weddings, pet shops, and chick flicks. I'm also the kind of girl that is happiest between the sixth gear and the bottom of the gas pedal.

In all honesty, I actually can't stand pet fish. They don't respond to you the way you would want a pet, you can't touch them, they just swim around. They're basically an expensive ornamental fixture which you have to feed everyday and clean its tank every week. Might as well get a plant. So, why did I get myself a pet fish? I really actually wanted a dog. But the dark of that night was especially deep, I found myself at a pet store and the Fighting Fish only cost RM5 with a 10% discount on top of that! I was sold.

I chose not to name my pet fish. Some people thought it was cruel of me but I just didn't see a need for me to name it. I taught it how to follow my finger and how to jump for food. I guess teaching it how to jump was the cruel part because one night I came home to an empty bowl and a crusty fish on the ground.

That happened almost a month ago and I have yet to fill its bowl with life again. Maybe I grow too attached to things. I'm the kind of person that has collections of the most useless things. I have a stash of movie stubs dating back to the first ever movie I watched without my family, I kept LRT season passes, bus passes, clothing tags, cute plastic bags... Note the word "kept" because I'm also the kind of person that goes manic on random days and gets rid of years of history to make way for a new photo frame.

After coming back from Australia, life took a strange turn for me. Don't get me wrong, Australia was beautiful.



So anyway, life took a strange turn for me after coming back from Australia. I just wasn't satisfied with the way things worked here, everything seemed so mediocre. I felt mediocre. I hadn't accomplished what I thought I would from Australia. I had big plans to gain boundless inspiration from being in a different country but that didn't happen. I had big plans to take up a course overseas and experience the hard life of an independent working student but that didn't happen either as flights to Canada cost more than my entire study budget. What did happen was small doses of depression, feelings of isolation and immense pressure from all sides.

I chose this path. I chose to take a year off to learn, explore, develop, and perfect; all things that may get kicked off my list of priorities once a full time job sets in. Somehow being cautious and prepared begot only ridicule and judgment. But I don't regret anything. If no one else, at least I had time and freedom on my side. And something's afoot.

I thank God for the organic nature that is life; its amazing ability to swing from bumming to so-swamped-have-to-resort-to-power-naps-and-15-minute-dinners within a day. I thank God that I gave myself the time to say "yes" to anything I wanted to and also for the fact that I'm young enough for ridiculous notes like these to happen.


Word of the day: The face of contentment is ugly.