Monday, November 02, 2009  2:56 PM
Turn up the sun
It's pouring outside and I'm actually liking being in the office on a slow, quiet Monday afternoon. Mondays are hardly fun to wake up to, but it was more than made up by the stroll down to ann siang with denise to gloss over the moving out sale at front row during lunch. It was still way too expensive but we smiled at our reflections for two seconds without feeling the pinch in our pockets; her in an eley kishimoto navy blue chiffon dress and me in a wood wood white shift dress.
Today, I started thinking whether I made the right decision. I was thrown into the deep end from the day I started due to lack of manpower; would PR have been better given a full headcount at work with accounts I call my own, instead of being flitting around helping out on everyone else's work never feeling the sense of satisfaction because above all, I'm bits and pieces here and there? But then I pictured myself staying more than December's worth and I began to feel dread again. I've had enough of being the middle person and doing costings and picking up after everyone else, and garnering coverage for the client which I honestly don't care about.
I want to be writing again. At school, I never missed it much because I was always doing it, article after article, and the nights at the Chronicle over and over sub-editing for the slightest mistake. I miss it very much, and this weekend I felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I sat at starbucks and started applying for journalism jobs. I hummed to myself as I dug out my old writings that would form my portfolio - from Female, the Chronicle, school and the final-year project - and I was happy just holding on to knowing what I want to do, for now at least. I've never been so motivated, excited or joyful applying for any job, but now I am, with an uncertainly pool ahead of me, not knowing where I'll end up eventually or if I'll even get there, or what if I'm bad at it? I'm past caring; all I know that He's leading me there.
My boss says she hates the word "eventually". She chided, "What is eventually? Are you on the right track of getting where you want to be? What are you doing about it? Stop wasting time. If you are, then when is this eventually going to be? Work your way up there girl, go ahead and be a writer. But I don't want you to be just any writer on the street. I want to see you become editor."
I'm trying to find my footing again. It's stopped raining by the way, and I can see the building in front of me again. This reminds me of the classic case of removing the tinted glasses and moving onto another place where you think you belong better. It's a journey called discovery.
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