Thoughts in Transit

Writing a blog post seems to be something I had done in a past life. It rings to a past that is foggy in my mind, something bittersweet; hazy, tender and colorless. Only the ghost of posts and thoughts and words and a blog remain on the World Wide Web. I suppose The Mayden has become unimportant, just as all fading things come to be.

But here I am, again; I'd spent many years untangling my thoughts here. I guess I can do it again.
So much has happened since the last time I visited. 2019 was my last year of university. I had to prepare to launch myself into the world as a STEM graduate. While I had spent most of my university years pursuing a side hobby of writing and fantasy-making, theatre and the arts, holding onto whatever I could to stay sane, I had attended Computer Science lectures and tutorials; my muscles soaked in logical routines and functions; my brain deciphered algorithms and code, and then, all of a sudden, I was jolted awake.

Faced with the hazy, fuzzy realities of graduation, unemployment, instability, it was only a matter of time before I became unsure of myself, terrified of the limbs and mind I discovered I owned. I'd fallen out of love with the course I'd chosen. What had I done these three years? What do I do now? Focus. Graduate. Be a computer science graduate.

And so, I'd drifted to the back lines of what I love to do. The Bruneian creative industry is gritty and introspective -- so small, so immediate, so urgent that I exhausted myself into giving both to it and school. I had to choose. So, this blog became quiet. The gram, silent. I forgot how to stand in front of a camera, how to angle myself, how to best set cameras for optimal photographs. Books became unread. Words, unwritten. 

Then I finished university. Now what?

Imagining myself working in an office in tech from nine to five takes a lot of courage. I'd done it before and I don't want it. It's not that I don't want that stability. It's that I don't want that coldness, that frigidity, that gravity that would keep me grounded, tethered to a career that would leech the life out of me.

So now, as always and again, I have somehow found myself grasping onto the stray fringes of what I love to do. I crack open the spine of a book, whip out the camera, pick up a pen, set myself to work on whatever I possibly can. I reach for things I know I cannot have -- at least not for now -- more times than I have in the past four years, consciously, willing myself to try, try, try, try hard, try now, try or you'll resign yourself to a future of regret.

Here I am now, a little lost in life, wondering what the world has in store for me. I know that if I'm a little braver tomorrow, I'll wonder what I have in store for the world.

And so it goes.



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