很吵，很累，很空，很痛。

人多，静了。
无人，吵着。
坐位空着，吉他停了。
怎了，想着，烦着，累了。

千万个问号，
无声的句子，
空白的书信，
僵硬的脚步，
心中的空洞。

答不了，
说不出，
写不着，
跨不过，
摸不到。

人多，静了。
无人，吵着。
怎了，想着，烦着，累了。

In space, no one can hear you blog.

I'm a reluctant writer of blogs. It's not natural to me, I have actual, physical journals/sketchbooks to fill. And I keep it private mostly. Writing stuff online and leaving it out there goes against what I'm so used to.

But I do see a point in doing this. I see it as another of my journals. Just digital. Googlable. Public. I'm coming around to the concept. As you can see, my frequency leaves a lot to be desired. I'm trying to make this a habit and make it often. Like daily-often. Which means there might be a lot more junk coming out of these fingers.

Since the whole point of setting up this blog was to, for those of you who know me, get to know me better, it makes sense for me to increase the rate of entries. Gives you something new to look at too if you happen to be revisiting this sorry blog of mine.

So, here's to more words to clog the interwebs, keep Google busy, and hopefully, in and between those words, you find reasons to justify why you have such a kooky friend in me. And still decide to keep me.

We still tight, right?
(I know, OK, OK. Cool. See you later. Or I see you another time. OK, bye.)

Late night sessions.

Just so you know, this is not a post where I stick to the script. It's gonna be a bit all over the place.

My breath smells of pills that I've been ingesting the last two days. I'm sick with the flu (which is really cold with fever), cough, sore throat, the works. The pills make me feel sedated and I really should be sleeping to speed up recovery. But I'm up at two in the morning thinking up logos for a band. Think alphanumeric, think mohawk, think cat, think punk rock.

Well here's the thing. In the quiet of the night, you can hear the room reverberate in a certain way. There's this inaudible hum that fills the room. And there's the cicadas in the distance. And the hum of the computer. I dig the sound. They all add up to become the soundtrack of my late night creative sessions. It hit me. I like this. I like this a lot. I think I'm made to make things. That is my portion.

I have a lot of interests and hobbies. Like you won't believe. My curiosity takes me to far-flung places. Anyway, there are a few that forms the core. One. Cooking. Two. Basketball. Three. Reading. Four. Drawing. Five. Music/Guitar. I'm gonna take a moment to talk about two of the above. Basketball and Guitars. Two of my loves.

These two contradict each other. They require of me in a way that tears me up. A little bit lah. Well, I'm talking about fingernails. To play ball well and prevent chipping your nails or sinking them into your opponents' fair skin, well, I need to trim them. To play guitar well, you need to keep the fingernails of the fretting fingers, usually the left, trimmed; the strumming ones, if left untrimmed, adds colour and versatility to your playing. Sometimes, it's hard to strike a balance. I settle with strumming with a pick with all fingernails trimmed. What's my point? That you should not let anything come between your interests. Yes, not even yourself. In this case, your fingernails.

I have a guitar on the way. Flying over the Pacific towards me. It's a Larrivée. I only buy Larrivée. For now. And it's electric. I've never played electric. But here we go. It's got a charcoal burst finish on the guitar top. I have two names for it at the moment for the picking. The Black One. Charcoal Pill. What do you think? I think The Beast and Shooting Star and the noob will get along just fine. I gotta find me a guitar coach pronto.

I'm also rediscovering the love of music. When I say music, I mean playing it through the guitar. I know no other instrument. It's gonna be an awesome gift to self. I love me some October. NBA Training Camp. NBA 2K video game releases. Reservist. Spending birthday while serving reservist duty. Stuff. And there's the guitar. I love me some October. Except, it means the weather's gonna get colder and rainier. Translation: less basketball. And Ultimate Frisbee. But it just means it's guitar time. And what a way to welcome Guitar Season. It's a Larrivée RS4. Google it if you want to see what it looks like. I'm a little too tired to wanna post it for ya. Ok ok. Here you go.




The Larrivée family knows how to make them guitars.

Don't mind the ramble. It's late and I'm sedated.

Love to all,
Me.

What do you think you're doing?

"But to evolve you have to dismantle, and that means accepting the idea that nothing you've created in the past matters anymore, except that it brought you here." - John Mayer
You know me as the Advertising Copywriter that I am now. But some of you know the Graphic Designer. And others, the Pastry Cook. Depends on when you got to know me; how much you know about me. These are the three main phases of my 'body of work', as I'll like to call it, as opposed to 'a career'. Clearly, it's not much of a career because it doesn't follow a single linear path that takes me to a higher plane with each transition. A long time ago, I decided that work should be a series of projects. The thing I'm working on is myself. To some, it would seem like I have a lack of focus, that I don't know what I want, that I'm wasting my time.

You've got to dismantle.

Here's the thing, I know what I want and I want a lot of things when it comes to work. I want to try it all, to challenge myself and see if I fail trying. I want that beginner's mindset––over and over again. Always learning, always growing. I don't want to get comfortable. I'll stagnate. You know what happens when you stagnate? You become grumpy, you become old. And I can tell you, there are scores of grumpy old people trapped in a lot of twenty-somethings out there. Don't become one. Yes, that means you too, umpty-somethings. Sure, this hopping about doesn't build or lead up to a huge monthly paycheck for me, but really, how much is enough? So you get a million bucks. Would it suffice? You'll want two. Bigger toys, inflation, kids, uncertainties, future, retirement. Reasons we can all come up with to pad the stash. It never ends if you're never satisfied.

You've got to dismantle.

Don't you talk about loyalty, because no organisation is ever gonna be loyal to you. The days of retiring with your first job is over. Unless you're talking about your parents. Or you're in Japan. Or you work for P&G. And that's a huge maybe as it is.

You've got to dismantle.

Make no mistake though, I left cooking due to, among other things, renumeration. It's was paltry. It was very hard to live on that. Other reasons: I injured my back; but I think most of all, turning the thing I loved most, something I wanted so much since I was a kid, into work. Hard, laborious, soul-less work, took the joy out of cooking for me. I started resenting it. The one thing I was clear about doing the rest of my life... I stopped loving it. Would I go back to cooking? Maybe. But I think I'll be better equipped to deal with it mentally then I was in the past.

You've got to dismantle.

Everytime I jump into the deep end and struggle to stay afloat, I feel that much more alive. It's the need to survive that keeps me going each time. The need to reinvent myself keeps me engaged. Aware. Conscious. Moving. I don't know what keeps you going. Maybe it's that car you're financing, a better half, a family, security, a house, whatever is important to you, it's cool. It has brought you here. I need work that I'll wake up for.

You've got to dismantle.

Right now, I'm deciding if I should dismantle. Once again. I want a new set of challenge. I want something that makes me a little scared. Where the chance of me falling flat on my face is of the spectacular variety. I dig it. Call me crazy. But I. Dig. It. Tell me 'No'. I want that. Tell me I'm never gonna make it. Or maybe you won't, cos you are my friends; cos you know better; cos you know me well enough; cos you know I'm bone-headed like that. There will be risks and unknowns, but I'll probably go ahead anyway. It will all work out––it's historically proven.

It has brought me here.