Mandalay

Mandalay. For some reason that word was all I could think of today. Probably because it brings imageries of serene, exotic place to escape to. On the background, Nicola Hitchcock’s dreamy voice fills in the atmosphere and you would be immersed with an overwhelming sense of tranquility.

Mandalay perhaps is a strange, or maybe uncommon getaway place of choice, given its geographical coordinates not even remotely close to the coast, hence lacking the postcard perfect landscape of white sandy beaches and palm trees so often associated with serenity.

White sand dunes and warm afternoon sunshine, after all, are what I am after here thinking in the office, being ill, coughing my brain out, and unable to focus on what I am supposed to be working on. There is an irony in this situation, given that I have just gone back from a trip to a beach on the NSW coast for the weekend; but I was restless and I could not say that it was relaxing. And yet, all the weekend activities coming my way are physical and involve adrenaline rush of some sort. Not quite the Mandalay that I have in mind.

I have come to the stage where I need to weigh my options cautiously, especially knowing that what had happened cannot be undone, yet there is always the pressure to do more. The truth is, knowing your priority is a hard exercise at all levels. There are, of course, the financial consideration and the time constraint. Physical fitness comes in next; following that, motivation and impulse. Jealousy, as it happens, also plays a big part in my decision making, especially when you know that your circle of friends are having fun—surely you don’t want to feel left out? 

I just need to find out which of the Mandalays there that I would like to grab, and enjoy that as much as I can before it’s all over.

Reality Bites

I just found out that a casual coworker of mine, also an undergraduate, who is supposed to go back working for the company in November after her study leave of several months, might not be able to do just that because everyone just realised that her salary has not been budgeted. Sure, they are still trying to work on the budget to see if they can squeeze her salary somewhere, but of course there is no guarantee of a happy ending, and it might also mean someone else’s (i.e. mine) reserved salary should be cut for the next year.

My work contract ends in December, and although we verbally agreed that my contract is going to be extended until June next year, last week my boss confirmed to me that my extension status has yet to be determined. Why? Again, cost issue. I found it to be unsettling having this level of uncertainty for a period of time not too far ahead of you.

It dawned to me that the end my period living in Sydney might come to an end sooner than what I have realised. December is only 4 months away. And I still haven’t got a clue on what I wil do, or even where will I be, in January. I have come to love the city that I live in now, even the routine does not bother me as much anymore. But I guess all good things must come to an end.

At times like this when you realise how reality bites, you are forced stick your feet on the ground and expect for the worst, and try your best to pretend that you’re not really hoping for the best (though of course you do). I have a strong feeling that the next few months will be an emotional roller coaster for me; let’s see how I would cope with that.

On Caring

I have always found it hard to balance your current life with the past – I guess you become too involved and absorbed with the way you manage your days and moving forward, that you tend to forget how you were also very involved in your past life back then. Without you realizing it, friends and families are forgotten, and the distance grows wider and wider.

For obvious reason I’m not exactly proud of this trait I have, which often get interpreted as ignorance or worse yet, being selfish. Not once or twice, but many times people whom I used to share my life with wholeheartedly pointed this out to me. If I have been any smarter I won’t make the same mistake twice but breaking an old habit is not exactly easier than finding a needle in the hay.

What does it take to let people from your past know that you have not forgotten about them anyway? A regular facebook message? Postcards from the cities you have visited? Long emails detailing what’s happening in your life? Random gifts on the mail? Does a quick ‘Happy Birthday’ wall message on facebook actually count?

My take on this issue has been, for far too long, that it is okay to send updates sparely but it needs to be long and detailed to make it count. Somehow I think that a short ‘How are you?’ email is not enough to show people that I care, which has caused many griefs from other ends as it translates to me keep delaying any updates. I like to think that it doesn’t mean that I don’t care, but now I begin to see the logic behind their thinking, that if I can’t even be bothered with writing a paragraph or two, then do I really care about them?  

A blog post from Shirley which I stumbled upon today has touched me in ways that she probably didn’t even intend to. She was recalling a brief chat we had a few months back on her plan to reconnect with her famiy because career is only a part of her whole life, albeit an important one. Even the fact that she remembered this little, maybe insignificant chat we had shows me that she genuinely cares about people she used to know in her old life.

It definitely gets me thinking of who my true friends really are and if they struggle with the same problem with me, how are they coping with it, maintaining communication with the people they care about. Every time I get a random message from Nancy, for example, it always put a smile on my face because I know she really wants to know what is happening in my life. I may always be cycnical about short messages, and will only send them sparely, but I certainly come to appreciate that there are many ways to communicate and you can always tell the difference between those who really care and those wo don’t.

And that probably means that a short paragraph replying my mom’s email tomorrow would be much more appropriate than waiting for two more weeks just to make the email content longer.

Getting Sydney Back

I was reading posts from Paul’s blog when I found my love of Sydney once again. The past 8 months have gone by before my eyes and work has more often than not taken over my life. I used to plan my weekends to go to a different part of the city and discover new favourite places; these days I sleep in and just go to Newtown in the afternoon because I’m too lazy to make the effort of taking public transport. And thus the cyclical nature of traveling home-work-home-Newtown-city-home becomes a tired routine and makes me duller day by day.

A series of incidents,  most are subtle, lately have stirred my desire of exploring the city yet again. I guess there’s always that part of you wanting to break a routine, which helps a lot. My having to move out 3 weeks from now, for once, is enough to get my butt off the bed and start thinking about which neighbourhood I want to live in next. I also, regretably, just found out about TwoThousand around a month ago, to guide my soul with random subcultural extract of Sydney life. And then there’s Paul’s fresh arrival from the other side of the world and his disposition of the ‘cool’ notion which remind me a lot of my own naivette only several months ago. There’s also the realisation that, if all my luck runs out in the next 4 months, then 4 months is all I’ve got to live here and breathe and embrace what Sydney has to offer. Especially horrified by that last thought, I am convinced now it is time for me to be myself again and stop pissing around wasting my sorry time being unproductive.

I bought a bouquet of daffodils today on my way back home, finishing Hornby’s Polysylabic Spree and start on Smith’s On Beauty, had a quiet conversation with my flatmate, went to a corner Italian pizzeria in Erskineville with my book to get dinner, rented some DVDs and went back home feeling content. And I thought to myself, welcome back, old chap.

Colophon

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not exactly functioning. At least for the moment. I just set it up to quench my curiosity in using WordPress, and now I need time to play around with it, tweaking with trial and error, before I would heartily publish it as a legitimate blog.

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