I am back

It was a Monday night. I was holding my ever-so-reliable-trust-me-the-ink-will-never-dry-off Carrera B6 pen. I was twirling it. A piece of A4 paper I tore off from the notepad stared back at me. I wanted to write something. Anything. God forbid, for what seemed like a long long time, I have stopped writing. Well, of course I write during exams, I write work-related articles back at well, work. I mean, yes I have been writing, but I have not been writing the way I remember I loved. And I cannot bear that notion of me forgetting that. I mean, nothing is as scary as losing sight of the way to love, the things to love.



Back in those days, I rejoiced, celebrated and solemnized at every essay homework, English or Bahasa Malaysia. Seriously. I would write a 10,000 word essay than to do one single al-whatever-gebra-question. I sucked at al-whatever-gebra as much as Heidi Montag's plastic surgeon's skills.

It is not by accident or a flick of a coin that I went to law school. It makes the most perfect most defectless sense that I am a law graduate. I was blessed with THE lethal combination of all time. I loved writing/languages/history-ish stuffs AND I hated Mathematics. And Physics. And Chemistry. Nothing beats this super-ingredient! Oh I loved Biology but that does not count because I was just too excited about the chapter on you know, the birds and bees.

So yeah, back to my point, I loved to write.


The emotion. It's a like a fiery provocative challenge. Yet if you're on the go, it becomes easy, comforting, soothing, liberating. There is no end. No full-stop. Every word leads to more word. Every interpretation leads to more interpretation. No mathematic equation will ever make me feel this way and i don't intend for that to change. I like the openness of it all. There is no right, there is no wrong. There is no black nor is there white.


"To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the inner music the words make" -Truman Capote, McCall's, November 1967



I remember a year ago, after finding out I passed final year, I wrote here that wanted to go out and conquer the world. I wanted to fly up high into the sky. So did I? I did. I really did, in my corner of the world. In my own terms, my own way, my own definition, I took the first step to flying. I spread my wings.


The past one year has been rewarding in all ways possible. I worked as a Personal Assistant to a company director and I swear to you, I must have done something right along the way to have been offered this position. I learnt things law school would never be able to teach me, I met the most amazing people that I would otherwise would not have met, I did things I never thought I was able to do. I have since (heart-wrenchingly) stopped work there because I had to concentrate on my CLP exams. Now, even CLP has ended.



What do I do next? I am asking the same question I asked myself a year ago.

If there was one thing I realised, it is that the crossroads don't end the moment we decide on something. The very decision we make (or not) leads to more crossroads and more decisions.

Life - it is like writing, no? There is no end. No full-stop. It's open. Heck it'll always be open - unbarred, exposed, naked. What's there not to like?