I’m a videographer.
It’s really weird to say it out loud, but yeah, at the moment, I kinda am. I mean, I shoot and edit videos for a living. Can you really believe it?
Neither do I. My work is not that good – there are still tons and tons of things to be improved, but currently I’m at that stage where I am finally able to take pride in my work, no matter how crappy it is.
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Stories, half-written. Ideas, half-baked. Blog posts, half-finished.
Halves. For the past few weeks, I can only do halves.
Some mornings I sit down in front of my computer with either a glass of milk or a cup of tea and I click on ‘Add New Post’ button. Three paragraphs later, I abandon the draft. The feelings are not there. The words are wrong. The voice is different.
I wake up each morning, not eager to get out of bed. I want my weekends badly. I want my days to just be filled with cooking and baking and reading books and having coffees and organising the apartment, but that’s not what the days have in store for me.
I wonder what’s wrong.
Read more →I want you to remember that it wouldn't have made any difference to me. It's never made any difference to me when it came to you. I’d still pick you. I’ll always pick you.
Sarah J. Maas, Crown of Midnight
For the past weeks, we have been in an emotional roller coaster ride.
Perhaps, it’s an understatement as well. How are you supposed to feel when someone is dying anyway? How are you supposed to be selfless, to have empathy with the party who’s lying on bed – who’s gripping to life every now and then?
Then how are you supposed to prioritise work, or prioritise family, or prioritise your own selfishness in amidst all these?
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Such hatred.
Thing is, I don’t understand the internet anymore. And the social media. People post comments as if no one would get offended by what they write. As if what they write isn’t going to have any repercussion whatsoever. When a photo is posted on Facebook, there would be people leaning on the other side of hell and unleash mean commentaries.
As if they don’t know any better.
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It’s no longer enough to be happy. Everyone else needs to be less happy than you in order for you to experience happiness.
If not, you will feel that there’s something missing – even when you’re actually experiencing wholeness. Everyone else needs to be less whole than you, less successful than you, less awesome than you.
And sometimes, if we’re honest, it’s just nice to know that there are people who are not that happy with their lives. Then, you can then pat yourself on the back and say, ‘Don’t worry, you still have this under control.’
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For me, twenty fifteen starts with a phone call on a mid-day.
The six of us – my parents, my oldest sister and her husband, and my baby nephew – had just arrived at Sentosa World Singapore. Suddenly my sister pulled me aside to tell me something that would change everything, ‘Ie Yenly just called. Empo had stroke.’
It didn’t sink it at that time. I was still trying to think of a way out of this. It was New Year’s Day, the first of January 2015, and we had just arrived at Sentosa.
‘Better tell Mom and Dad later during lunch,’ she said while carrying her baby. I nodded.
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I have always believed that I’m going to live forever. There’s no such thing as dying in an accident, and heart attacks are reserved only for the other people. Not me. Not anyone in my family.
We are immortal.
Even thinking about death seems weird. What would you like to be written on your obituary? they ask. Well, I don’t know. Something nice and touching? Even thinking hypothetically about it seems wrong. It doesn’t feel like we are planning on our deaths – we are wishing ourselves dead instead.
And, they ask, how about writing a will? That’s reserved for the elderlies. I’m still young. I’m not going to die anytime soon. In fact, perhaps I’m not going to die forever. If, and this is a big IF, my time is up, I will somehow know it. I’ll have a feeling about it. That’s why I’ll live my one last perfect day and keep things in order.
We’re going to live forever.
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So it seems that this would be an obligatory end-of-year post. I will be travelling in two days and will not be back until early January. I’ve decided to leave my laptop, and possibly even my iPad, behind. That means, this will be last post in 2014, unless if I feel a compelling reason to not enjoy my last day at home tomorrow and write something not-so-important instead.
I feel like time flies, and yet sometimes I feel like it’s not flying fast enough – some moments take our breaths away, lingering one second longer in our brain. Some moments pass like train – rushed, uneventful.
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What kind of life do you show on Instagram? Is it your reality? Or is it just a figment of your picture-perfect moments to show to the world?
I don’t know about you, but I can get pretty jealous of other people’s lives on Instagram. Let’s say that the era of updating Facebook statuses is over (for me). Change that to endlessly scrolling awesome photos of your friends on Instagram. Oh, she just spent a week on an island with her boyfriend. Oh, she’s currently in New York City – look at how happy she is. Oh, a friend is travelling to Japan. Oh, my friends’ picture-taking skill levels are way up!
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