Wings, and about the first two weeks.

She departed with bags in her hands, and we waved from the railings. She disappeared amidst the reflection of lights and solid roofing on the marble floor, like traipsing away on tiled stars that bridged into a place we cannot follow. What a stupid analogy. It sounded like that other journey, and bear in mind that this isn’t. But it just seemed so that day. A farewell of gravity that didn’t sink in until the apple drops, so much later.

I’m glad I went to say goodbye.

I don’t mean to make it sound so sombre, for it isn’t. It’s a wonderful sending-off with lots of laughs and great memories. In another way it’s like giving H1N1 the middle finger and marching into the airport to bid bon voyage. I guess I’m allowed to exercise a small degree of sentimentalism, no? Brand me as guilty.

At any rate, I heard that she’s safe in Australia and is probably having fun. Cheers :)

But I guess we have these kind of moments in life. Watching a person with metallic wings on their backs that blink in red and blue, flying away, and wondering when you’ll see them and revisit old times, however briefly.

That night, a shoulder shook. Slightly. When I watch it walk away, slung over the shoulders of another , it seemed heavier and ready, then, to start growing its own set of metallic wings with blinking lights, to pick up the coming wind and in time find itself southland.

(Ok, sentimentalism over. Emo filtered out of body and selectedly vapourised).

******

I can’t say much about the first two weeks of work. That’s because it’s still a blur to me, and if I try to recollect, it’s like re-watching a movie with an impaired eyesight looking through sunglasses. But, even if I ask myself to be truthfully honest (bare bones completely naked type honesty), I can only truthfully answer that I’m actually having a lot of fun.

I’m happiest, I suppose, because I’m allowed to write. And this is actual writing. Writing with a stake in hand, with actual readership to inform and entertain, with lots to lose and lots to gain. Writing with a degree of creativity and freedom. Writing with enjoyment.

It’s perhaps still early to say, being only two weeks, but I think I like this job.

I just hope I don’t catch myself here months later to bitch or blame or bombard in a show of pure, utter hypocrisy. Lets not get ahead of myself.

Ah, I’m hired as a Grade E5 Writer, the grade meaning absolutely nothing to me, unless it denotes my corporative rank, which is rightfully correct, then; I’m lowest of lowest, so to speak, and it’s the way to start off a career.

For the moment, I spend my time writing for the magazine, with the occasional proofreading and light editing in between. Away from work, I try to invest my time in picking up more knowledge to improve upon the topic of which is my magazine’s niche (which, sad to say, is not exactly my strong point).

I went to work at the calm before the turmoil, of which wasn’t anything chaotic, nor exactly immense in workload (yet), but takes up long hours of the day. In a twisted sort of manner, I found myself working midnights at the second week at work. It wasn’t a horrific experience; on the contrary, I actually enjoy it very much.

Right now I face a third week, which so happens at the start of the month, and I expect to start doing work a little more independently.

I have my own business card now. It makes me feel… yeah. Whoa yeah.

*********

Some stuff before I sleep:



I’m a wee bit disappointed; perhaps I was overhyped a bit. But it looks beautiful.

Here, a song I dedicate to those who remember, and are remembered:





Bonne nuit!

Silver Flooring.

Which crackled and cracked when trodden on, probably because it’s just silver in colour as opposed to material.

I didn’t notice it, even if it was my third time entering the office. Not until I started wandering around to inspect the office oddities, which is aplenty, that I realised that somehow someone must’ve thought it a good idea to make half of the office floor silver.

Interesting, though.

I’m officially working, by the way.

It’s weird. It’s like I’m telling people that I’m actually a running cog in the vast clockwork we call society.

And today’s the first day. It went like I was whisked away into a dreamlike trance, and everything seemed new - seemed first.

I’m wasted right now. The weekend took its toll on me.

Right o.

Goodnight world.

*****

Wait, not quite.

Do yourself a great, big, self-gratifying favour, and pay a visit to http://15malaysia.com/

And watch the movie(s). And see for yourself the Malaysian cinema we could have, but couldn’t, because our censorship board are knuckleheads.

Right. Nites.

A sign:

Welcome to Morose.

To the right - a mountain, comprised of stitched nylon, cotton and various standardised fabric, revelling in its days-long amalgamation of dirt and stains.

Between the hinges and the door, the remains of a lizard - mummified by months of constant opening and closing - standing like a hieroglyphic warning to those who crawl and scuttle.

A war zone on a desk. Those fallen in battle remained, ignored by the world as it passes by, while the scenery changes by the whim of the Great Chubby Hands in its utter disregard of tidiness.

Also on the war zone; a grey shaver that would need a change of batteries.

Somewhere on the great marble desert, an ant is lost. It will eventually die of starvation or get unceremoniously trodden by a rampaging poodle.

Vines of a great forest, in fact a wiring nightmare, is strewn on the ground, coiling and trapping dust in its rubbery grip.

Speaking of dust, it covers approximately 80% of the land’s surface. Various organisms have begun thriving on it.

The sun of this land is dying; it flickers and wanes, and yet the Gods refuse to let it retire in peace.

Like the sighing of wind, or the howling of wolves, ungainly music floats across the land and engulfs all in its sombreness.

The Dirge sings.

------

On the day the sun died, a Goddess entered. And she brought change to the world.

The mountain diminished, raised to the sky from the earth. Thus, the land became cleaner.

The war zone became a land of peace. The remains of the fallen were claimed (Dust-cling Special Cloth), and the shaver replaced to its rightful place, its batteries changed.

The dust were consumed by the coming of the Great Vacuum. Gone also were its inhabitants.

The vines retracted, and only coil at the dark edges of the land, as with most lands of unseen and foretold danger.

The sun is substituted. The new sun shines proudly and basks the land in its fluorescent eminence.

Legends were spun. Songs were sung. They all tell of the same thing;

With the Goddest came Rapture. The land is now purged.

The sign now reads;

Tír na nÓg

The Land of Eternal Youth.

And just because they’re perpetually youthful, the land shall eventually return to its dire state. As time has proven, history fucks itself up.

Come back in a week or two.

************

In the Essence of Absence, Hiatuses or Those Really Long Breaks,

It would probably be more conducive for me to simply summarise the events of the past weeks into bullets. This is because with bullets, or as we Malaysians like to refer to as ‘Point Form’, everyone is happy.

(Fun fact: Bullets make quick work of everything. I’m talking about every type of bullets.)

Anyway;

--> A karaoke session with friends, in which shouting is singing and my going out of tune can be mercifully (and ignorantly) passed as a hum of a passing bee.


-->I was actually actively seeking jobs. And now I am pending the call that will tell me (in James Jonah Jameson’s quick and piercingly pain voice) that “You’re fired. Oh, you haven’t worked with me yet? You’re hired. And now you’re fired. Haha.”

--> Job interviews are an exercise of not trying to limn the room and fighting the urge to leap off the window.

--> Two days ago, I went on a stage, shook hands with Steven Tan and retrieved my graduation scroll (in fact an empty cylinder). And I tossed my mortar board. And I had a great, thankfully simple after-grad celebration.

Oh, and I’m in just about my final week of household liberty, as the father will be returning from his Euro-trip soon. I have therefore subjected myself to as much anarchy as it would allow without the complete obliteration of my house.

I’ve also been spending some time helping out the grandmother, as the grandfather had gone down to Johor to terrorise my maid-less cousins. I have actually learnt how to placate the baby as much as I can.

Those aside, life is a still a great big town square to bum in. If you’d excuse me, I’d like to return to the bench overlooking the fountain, where the people passing will notice me scowling at them like they owe me lunch.

****************

Why hadn’t I been writing lately? I’m rather hopelessly addicted to Battlefield Heroes.

And Wolfteam.

And I’ve finished [PROTOTYPE], and now getting started on Far Cry 2.

And during my trips to accompany grandma, I’ve been returning to FF12.

I now await the great arrival of Batman: Arkham Asylum.

(Somebody save me).