I have been, to put it lightly, in limbo.
Much of what happened and happening still is a series of failures and disappointments. My familiarity with losing and failure is very much like a friendship, and sometimes friendship gets some cracks now and again.
True, I have been writing and illustrating my own graphic novels, I call them komiks novels, as homage to those little bits of literature that kept my imagination since I was a child. But the point is, personally, I am at my lowest where no one, not even my closest friends can get me to stand up.
And it seems during these times of abandonment and being discarded as used up and dried out, is where the whole creativity gets a shot of adrenalin. Something kept me down though, an ending that I saw coming but had no idea how it will unfold. Sure enough it was painful, with all the talking and communication we had, the goodbye got lost in technological snafu, and I fervently wished we could have ended it face to face and talking as friends, not some cloak and dagger, dungeons and dragons misdirection. Call it desperation-inspiration, label it defense mechanism, all I know is I can suffer as long as I can endure, I don’t really harbor grudges to weigh me down. I just feel empty sometimes when I look back about the coulda, woulda, shoulda stuff, you know how it is.
Now I’m doing this, on my own, living as frugal and bohemian in ways no one will understand. I have gone without food for days, a bit of alcohol with friends and that only proves I am made of sturdier stuff. I am living with less and yes, it resulted in me doing more, a paradox, but a welcome one.
Gave up the whole job hunting spree and just write and draw. This is how it’s going to be. No more spending hard-earned money just to get to an interview just to get the feeling of being an outsider. Well, I have always been an outsider. And I’ll use it to my own advantage.
Unconventional. Uncouth and unfashionable. I’d rather swim against the flow than getting lost in the waves.