mekong red.

I used to think it was motivation that I was lacking. I know now that its discipline where I fall short. And by 'I used to', I mean like literally up until a few days ago. Now begs the question, if motivation alone won't take me to where I need to be, how do I get disciplined? I fear this won't be answered easily or very soon at all. At least not if I keep living my life the same, unchanged.

I finally met up with a friend after postponing for a while and we ate dinner at a dumpling place near her work. One of the few friends who I still keep in regular contact with from university. It was nice to have a conversation with another person, I feel like I haven't done that in a while. Talking at length that is, with my mouth and not with a keyboard.

My fondest memories are never alone yet I spend so much time by myself. Not everyday should be memorable, but I wish I made more to remember.

I am both trying to take myself less seriously and life more seriously. In this heat however, I can't take anything at all. I've essentially accepted that when its this hot brain function will be severely limited, even as I write this my eyes can't focus on the words, blurred lines appear with uncertainty, my only hope is that my fingers don't fail me now.

I've been playing Pikmin Bloom recently, a mobile game where you plant flowers as you walk and grow pikmin as you step, and as the sun began to set and the heat began to die, I decided it would be a nice time for a walk. Only, the sun stood steadfast in the sky, yet to leave the horizon and a difference of 1 or 2 degrees is negligible at this level and so I baked in the sun, thanking myself for at least applying sunscreen and bringing my new sunglasses.

Like my usual walks I went to the field of green, off the concrete path to the hospital and turned left into the trees. Walking along the gravel on a different direction than before, I spotted a small empty patch in the bushes veering off of the main walkway and decided to investigate further. I thought it an adventure, the hidden passage off the forest path, and as I ducked through the bushes, excited for what to find, my eyes were graced with the torn out remains off a motorcycle bumper amidst a ruin of plastic.

Sure, why not.

As I cautiously ventured onto the path carved into the grass, I followed the dirt until, in the corner of my eye, off to the side, I saw the rest of the stripped motorbike hidden in the trees, bright yellow license plate facing me.

It is, for some reason, the second broken down bike I've seen in this particular park, only this one was a lot more intact, the other one all those years ago had exploded into a black char, and it took years for the grasses to engulf it back into green.

I turned around and went back after I saw it. I didn't want to get close, nothing probably, but I err on the side of caution.

From now on my schedule has no predetermined dates filled. Everything is up to me now. I feel like now this is a whole new era of my life. If after university was the year of contemplation, then now must be something entirely new with the arrival of the semblance of a goal. Find work, masters, find better work, and along the way, write, draw and live. Surely this cannot be so hard?

Before I left for two weeks, I booked an appointment with my universities alumni job services and asked them where to look for entry level graduate jobs and to look at my CV. Enlightening, if only that I could affirm that as long as the world is spinning there will always be new jobs on the horizon and that I am indeed hireable. Hireable. This is what I aspire to now?

Its a weird thing to wake up and psyche myself to scroll through employment websites as if it were a job itself. Some days I wish there were no new listings so I could just go back to wasting my day away, and some days there really are no new jobs. Those are bad days. No matter however, listings or no, I will procrastinate.

Everytime I want to complain about job hunting, I think of how many job applications I've left unfinished or how many I said I would do later and procrastinated until the deadline. I know I want to work and I know that eventually I will have to, but deep in my mind I know I don't want it enough. The day however will come where I will want it enough. Games, that I don't have money for, pens that I don't have money for, ink that I don't have money for, god forbid, an emergency that I don't have money for.

When I really think about it creative fulfilment is what gives me life, but how much of that do I sacrifice, will I sacrifice for the sake of employment. I hope whatever job I have I can still find the energy and time to write. Oh, I can only dream.