Back from the dead... sort of

A lot has happened since I imposed myself on months of sabbatical from motime. It all began with the reason that there’s no internet access in my new office, but after the countless chances I’ve missed to log-on, I just began thinking that perhaps I’ve exploited the reason for too long.

As compared to my 2a.m. self-set curfew in my former ‘party all night long’ section, I can finally go home to the safe hour of 8pm – and have all the time in the world to do what I want. Then why not blog then?

I guess you can say I was going through a phase, where the changes (physical, mental and emotional) have been so overwhelming I didn’t know how to put it into words. I turned 24 two months ago, and I actually thought I was too old already for my otherwise insouciant writing (I actually believed all those fashion and party stories were beginning to make me sound too shallow for my own good). I am an adult for crying out loud, and with age come maturity, even in writing.

So I vowed then and there – no writing for the moment, until I find my adult path. Whatever that is.

But something happened about a month or more ago which changed my so-called journey to personal growth. I just came from an interview with a celebrity doctor, asking questions on health and the way body works. Serious stuff. Boring stuff. The talk for some reason just made me snap.

"This isn’t me," I said. So I head off to the place I know would make me happy – the mall. Yes, for all its noise, crowd and ridiculous retail prices, I finally found myself again. At least temporarily, before I set out again for my journey to adulthood. I planned to keep the sudden ‘lapse’ a secret. From whom? I have no idea, but I felt guilty, like I was breaking a very important pact.

Five shopping bags later, I was on my way out when my phone rang.

caller: garble, garble, garble… (static line)

me: Hello? What? I can’t hear you! The line’s not good…

caller: garble, garble, garble… this is the firend of banzai!

Me: I’m so sorry, I can’t hear you, I’M AT THE MALL!

It turned out, I was actually speaking to Eunmi at the moment. Well so much for keeping the mature image.

Anyway after that, I just told myself that age can wait. And right now I might be a 24-year old ditz, but I’m enjoying myself, so what the heck?

***

Months after I was transferred to motoring section, I found myself arranging the clutter and cleaning the dust I’ve accumulated since I’ve moved-in.

My editor was having a bout with her allergic rhinitis so we had to do some major cleaning. For almost a whole day, we’ve stacked boxes and boxes of scrap papers, old photos, used envelopes and other stuffs for the janitor to pick-up at the end of the day.

Amongst my file I found my early articles for motoring and health. They were a few compared to the many articles I’ve written for my former youth section. But I also noticed the ‘changes’ when it came to the style of writing.

From the care free and youthful prose of Just For Kicks, I now read precision news writing – no nonsense and straightforward. I was really beginning to see the changes.

All throughout the cleaning, my editor would stop once in a while to show us pictures of when she first started out with the paper. They were impressive, some of the dates even went back to a period I when I wasn’t even born yet. She also showed us trophies of races she won and it was impressive to note that she was the only woman among the throng, which is probably why she is now known as the first lady of motoring.

I couldn’t help but admire all her achievements, and I’m not just talking about the trophies. I’ve seen her work, and she’s already established journalism skills one can only acquire through time.

And I can’t help but wonder, "Can I do what she has done?"

I guess I can’t have my answers for now.

And as I watch her remove dusty pictures from her desk and put them in storage bins, I took out a picture of my old section, my ‘special family’ and pasted it on my computer.

She’s taking off the years, I’ve only just began stacking on mine.