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!