First, I still can't believe that quit being a journalist. Not knowing whether there's a chance (or a hope) to go back there again. What intrigues me every time I look back is... oh gosh, it was something I never imagine to happen. But it happened. I used to think it wouldn't ever happen.
A Dutch journo once interviewed me for her project. "With everything in your way working as a journalist in Indonesia, do you still plan to keep doing it?" she asked me. I said yes and told her, "If I'm not being a journalist, I don't know what I am anymore." Guess, something like this yet happened!
It was my dream job---a job that I had always wanted so badly unlike anything else---for amazing three years; writing, fashion styling, food styling, reporting, and all that with super ups and downs. Yes, literally my DOWNs when I reached (read: found) the lowest point of my life... many times. Learned so much? Definitely!
So yeah it happened. Losing everything, risking anything that I have. I have let this profession defined who I am. That means, I have lost myself now. It's a big deal to find it back or simply create the new me---or getting the real me to come out. Quite a challenge of course. Somehow, it takes my humble side to accept the truth that I'm starting over. In age of 24. Another risk to take.
After I resigned, I went to US. Awesome thing. 2 months. I learned in photography class, rejoined with my family, traveled a lot, shopped a lot and ate a lot. I played with neighbour's cats and dogs. Awesome memories! I can't wait to go back and visit the other side of US. Another trip to Disneyworld won't hurt. During the trip, I said to myself, I'll be back, but at least, I'll go with a boyfriend. I need somebody to take pics of me, instead of me taking pics of everyone.
Traveling is addictive indeed.
Now, I'm writing this. I got another job. Another side jobs. Awesome, isn't it? At first, it was a struggle to balance my life with jet lag and those busy schedules. I'm still trying to keep up. Feels like the jet lag stays longer than my stay in US.
And...probably you won't believe me. After three years...I went out a date again. Maybe, I could try a little to think of something like this. Hmmm....first after three years.
Miss this blog. Will write some more.
... what happens in my bedroom, stays in my bedroom...