SOPLYD

I usually visit my own blog when I'm supposed to be working on things I've put on hold for far too long. But it's my place of comfort, so yeah.

A few weeks ago, I was fed a pill so bitter I could only cry. The pill was called: Seeing Other People Living Your Dream. SOPLYD. (I could've come up with a better acronym but as far as Ryan Higa teaches, any acronym is good enough to make a video/make into a blog.)

Talk about broken dreams. At first, you are really happy for them, make plans for them, encourage them and once they announce that they're actually doing what you've been dreaming of doing, your heart just breaks. At the same time, you're still really happy for them. How could I not? She's my sister.

Stairs collapsing and towers falling apart behind the smiles you put up for them. You have to keep on that smile to show your support and share your excitement. It wasn't as if there were no excitement or genuine happiness, but deep down you couldn't help that you felt a sting upon the announcement.

You live in denial for a few days, not for the fact that somebody else is living your dream but for the fact that you don't feel anything else but being happy for them. You know you're wrenching your heart every time this topic is being brought up, you know you're gripping your tears to not let them appear in your eye sockets, you know you just can't hide your admiration and jealousy much longer.

But you still live in denial, not being quite honest with yourself.

All it took was for PMS to let it all out, how convenient. That one day where everything feels wrong, those few days before where you feel overwhelmed with everything big and small around you. Then when you do cry, it's not for some trivial Friday night nonsense, but for all other real feelings you've hidden so well beneath the smiles. Or so you thought.

And when that happens, there's no more denial, because there's just no point to that. I've learned to isolate myself and not talk to people when this happens. It's just me and me alone dealing with my feelings that I've put aside too long, in my cave. I have a cave, yes, and it's not brightly lit and words and sentences scribbled and stopped mid-sentence on the walls.

Lucky for me, I have someone waiting for me outside the cave and I'm definitely not taking him for granted with my occasional visits to my cave. It takes a person of such for you to feel like yourself again, to remind you to be honest with yourself again and that just tops everything else. You need to be you by being completely honest with your feelings, among other important things too.

When you've sorted out your emotions after the dam breaks, you start thinking again. For me, reminding myself the path that I've taken and stick with it. I have chosen this path and I shall lay bricks ahead of this path. I call it Realistic Path, the road mostly taken. I once thought with my bold endeavours, I was living up to my dream. But I was wrong, I was merely taking the path that I chose because I just needed to feel in control of my own life.

And that's okay.

I don't mean to tell you to let your dreams be broken or see your dreams self-destruct and you're not doing anything about it and graciously take the SOPLYD pill. What I'm saying is, if it happens, tell yourself it's okay. It's not okay at first but it will be. It takes a certain degree or wisdom, hardships, maturity and a certain someone to help you make peace with your broken dreams. It's a detour you're taking now.

But if there's a glimpse of hope of you building your dream again or a new-found goal, please strive for it, by all means, please do it. There's only this many excuses you can give yourself. As long as you're trying, you're living the dream.

It wasn't meant to be a sort-of-motivational post, but it turned out to be one. It's just one way of writing to myself, for myself, as a reminder that tomorrow will come and you've just gotta move on.





Lots of hugs

Hiatus

24/3/2016

After reading my last entry which was 5 months ago, I felt like I've grown out of that person. Perhaps because last semester has seriously toughen me up and it's not in the slightest moment that I've regretted going through it. Maybe just a warning the next time I want to take up PhD.

Nowadays, every night before I sleep, I can only think about when will I start my editing on that manuscript snuggled in my Publishing Project folder or how can I manage to finish 3 chapters of my dissertation by the end of this semester, along with publishing a book from editing to choosing the type of cover that I want for my book. It sounds impossible just by writing about it.

I know, with the bombings in Ankara and Brussels, my little stones can be overcome easily, they're not even explosives to begin with. But if your body is literally affected by all the stress you can't handle, I'm sure these aren't just little stones. I'm not saying I'm being terrorized (or maybe I am?), I'm just saying for a small ant, a little stone is like a hill. I'm that small ant right now.

It's best to focus on tasks on hand; easier to manage and stress are fairly distributed (Ha if that's even possible). One step at a time. But when your partner is already a member of the working society, you can't help but be involved in the plannings of your future together of buying a house, getting a new car or just investing in yourselves for a lifetime together. I'm not saying this is a burden, I'm saying it feels so grown up to be needed to juggle your studies, finance, family, relationship, faith, friendships, and health with only one body. I guess, I just don't want to be 24 and a grownup.

Sorry, if it sounds like the sole purpose of my writing is to ramble and seek sympathy, I'm not. I just feel better (sometimes) after writing it out.

When I think of my future, I see myself working in a publishing house running between floors and buildings on streets and cities to finish an assignment. At times, I see myself crawling between furniture in my house with an aimless mind and lethargic body. Such extremes, much worries. At least sometimes, I have this middle ground where everything has turned out alright and I'm always home before him and waiting for him to come home to me every night. Dreams and reality do fuck you up sometimes. 

Suffer what there is to suffer, enjoy what there is to enjoy. 

31/5/2016

I just remembered I had this post drafted and long forgotten until now. This is so me.

Hello October!

After my first presentation doing master degree, I felt like half of the world's weight is off of my shoulders. I was barely able to withstand the journey in the tunnel to reach the hazy light. But I made it! And I'll always, always be thankful for someone who's willing to be there by my side. Even when I'm bawling my eyes out due to stress and volatile hormones.

But now I'm swarmed with probably 8 assignments on hand, plus minus. This is overwhelming! Every day I think of the many things on my to-do list and the first thing I feel like doing is take a nap. So productive of me. 

So far, life's treating me pretty well. I'm the kind of girl that wants to be one independent woman who works her way up in her life without anyone's help. But when you throw in Aaron Boo, you get me standing on weak knees. You can call it dependent or clingy but he's my weakness, my place of comfort and my happy place. #cheesy

With a little internet mishap and drama in my new rented house, I'm pleased to say I overcome it. *flex biceps* Of course I did. In the process, I probably cried buckets of stressful tears and some loose taps dripping tears constantly. Oh well, it might be due to hormones. #excuses

Anyway, there was something interesting, worth enough to mention, I guess. The "wedding" and "marriage" terms keep popping up to us and they keep taking over our topics of discussion. Partly contributed with him being one of the best men in his friend's wedding, and many weddings seem to have fallen on that weekend.

Honestly, I'm not freaked out by the fact that we talk our about marriage and wedding; I'm freaked out that I'm not freaked out when we have this kinda talk. It usually starts with, "You know, next time when we get married ah..." or "Oh, on our wedding, right..." Won't that basically freak some people out?

In contrary, I'm looking forward to it, not in a bridezilla or I-can't-wait-to-get-married way, it's more like I am looking forward to spending a new chapter of my life with someone so beautiful inside out. He's not a saint, but he's mine and what's mine is perfect. #cheesyagain. And heck, I'm definitely not bridezilla *touch wood* I don't even want to have a big wedding. Who cares about flowers arrangement, anyway?

Seeing him playing with his fellow so-called grownups now, I think I might fallen in love with a little boy. Or just the little boy in him too. He mentioned once that nobody has noticed this boyishness in him, and I think to myself, ironically they call him childish. Oh well, boys are complicated, not so simple as they might have put it out there. Oh well.

It seems like whenever I try to write something serious, I get distracted with lovey-dovey love life of mine. Ahh the wonders of love, one shall not perish in it. Signing off!

When is ready, ready?

When you set a goal for yourself, you plan out missions to conquer and with little missions accomplished, you get steps closer to your goal.

I on the other hand, set a goal too. But as a lazy introvert-first-extrovert-second, I can't seem to get my little missions done. I have a problem which is I'm not able to discipline myself. It might be from my upbringing, my mother wasn't much of a rotan woman.

My sister and I were given the freedom to choose how we grow up. Yup, that's how I can put it. We were given the chance to grow up and explore what's right and what's wrong on our own. We were always given a "Yes" when it comes to sleepover or an outing. We're those lucky children with a cool mom, I know.  What a liberty, isn't it?

I was never pushed to my limits, I set my own limits which was usually low. I was never ushered, never been really put under strict rules, the free-spirited girl who did what she wanted when she wanted it. I grew up fine, I guess. 

I don't blame my mom for not setting more rules, I thank her for giving me the freedom to discover who I am as a person and the freedom to be who I am today. With the right turns and the wrong turns, I am made of who I was.

So when it comes to self discipline, I can't do it. Yes, that's bad for my resume. But I just can't. This results in all my last-minute encounters and my master in procrastinating. And guess what? I'm starting my class for Master next week. A real master degree program.

I'm not ready.

*self-pity alert, do not proceed if you can't stand the sight of some self-wallowing*

With a tight finance and my lack of enthusiasm in writing a dissertation, even though it won't happen until the next semester, among other matters that somehow managed to get on my concerned list, I feel lost again.

I thought doing Master will set it straight for me. I'm not saying I do not want to do this, I want to. But since I know myself that well, plus my low self-esteem, I don't think I'm cut out for this.

I'm not going to write some inspiring essay on how to pick myself up. I'm blatantly complaining and making excuses for myself right here and now. Every little thing irks the shit out of me and I'm trying to reason with myself again into believing in myself and my decision to take up this program.

I'm not ready.

Money ain't gonna roll its way in on me, being a student means being poor again. Not to mention the debt you're piling up. What's so good about studying anyway?

Sometimes, I question myself whether the real reason behind me enrolling for Master is because I want to avoid the tough road of looking for a job, avoiding rejection over rejection and the possibility of me ending up doing something I do not like.

You see, being a free-spirited girl, I don't often do things for the sake of greater good. I do things emotionally. Meaning, if I have no interest, I will not do it. Even if I do, I will not get satisfying results. I'm not the type where I grit my teeth and finish things in what I'm good at even though I don't like it.

But inside, I always have this dream working in publications. I know I cannot be a writer, but I know I can help some good writers publish what they love to write. In my opinion, you need a good book to make you money but you don't necessarily need a good one to achieve your dreams. Unless of course your dream is to become the bestseller.

I don't always read bestsellers or classics. Neither would I read some great prose or highly recommended book just because it's on top of everyone's reading list. I can tell you that I love chick-lits and I never finished How To Kill a Mockingbird.

This is why I feel I'm not ready! Not for this new chapter, not for this new challenge. Is this really what I want? When will I be ready to face myself and this world we live in today?

Writing about writing.

Lately I've been pondering on the reason why I've been so reluctant to blog again. I used to be able to do it on a daily basis during high school and even though I had nothing special to blog about, I still managed to ooze my feelings and happenings into tangible words.

Those were the days where a small girl in a small town has nothing interesting to do and nowhere nice to go, no smartphone and still using Friendster era, I was able to be myself and write every nook and cranny of my heart out.

Years passed by and that blog has long been forgotten. Until memories drew me back to the old blog and yes I still managed to log in.

As I was reading it, I was almost appalled and cringed more than I should. I was reading my own blog, why would I  grimaced while reading and not  remember what happened?

After days of obsessing over this cringe-worthy old blog, I decided to delete the whole thing, the entire blog. But I chose to retain the name - The Outcast.

I've come to realize that I'm afraid to write, not only because I always think I'm not good enough, but also because I know, once experiences and emotions written, they are immortalized into words.

I can't be deleting and creating a new blog whenever I have chills reading awkward situations or deep emo posts I've been through and written about. I have to commit to something, now that I think of it. Might as well be a blog?

Yes, besides my relationship, I need something else to keep my head occupied and exercised too.

Words to me, they are the primary form of communication, also for most people, what more with texting and IMs nowadays.

But when I can't speak, I write. When I can't sing, I write. When I can't cry, I write. When I can't laugh, I write. Tell me something I don't do without writing it out first.

I write in my own space, and I love it. It sort of liberates me, like a functioning human being who knows how to wonder and wander. I cannot tell you how grateful I am for the existence of letters and words. I find writing comforting and relaxing but also pressured at the same time to write better.

Writing has been a rough journey for me. In fact, it has just started again. Every single day is a new day for me to write. Some days I'm afraid of what I'm capable and incapable of writing, other days I spit out like farting right after exiting the elevator. Like now, duh.

I wanna be done writing about writing, I wanna start writing about expressing and inspiring personal feelings, inducing and creating emotions from those who read me.

I can't be caring now that I have no readers. Someone told me once, somewhere along this line, if I don't write, how's anyone gonna read?

Writing is fearful yet rewarding, be courageous to write. Nothing beats a smooth train of thoughts.

Cheers,