Yesterday, I was a worker bee for my first event on this new job, the LG Optimus 2X and Optimus Black Smartphone launch at the Sepang International Circuit. I was slightly unnerved about working for it because it was still my first week on the job, and I would be working with some my colleagues whom I hadn’t gotten a chance to know yet. But the thing about this line of work is that like it or not, you are thrown into the deep end and forced to work, and therefore interact, with each other.
It was this way that I got to know one of the girls in my office whom, up until then, I had only known by name and sight, because she had been too busy running around to actually be in the office to speak to at all. But mutual exhaustion and frustration from the heat, crowd and general disorganization resulted in her telling me that she had only just graduated and come back from the U.S. seven months ago, thus being on this job for only five months so far, and having a difficult time adapting to life in this country. She spoke about how it feels like a dream to look around at the people and the environment here, how much she misses her life in the U.S., and how she refuses to try and adapt to being in this country because she intends to make her stay here only temporary, and to go back there as soon as she can.
As I listened to her, I realized that she sounded exactly like me. It was exactly how I was when I first moved back here, except that I’m much worse, because in some ways, it’s how I still am after three years of being here.
That’s right. Today makes it three years since I moved back to this country, and it blows my mind to think about how much has happened and how much has changed in the last three years. A year ago, I had come to terms of sorts with being here and trying to make the best of what I had here, in spite of the circumstances surrounding my life then. Fast forward a year later to today, and some of those circumstances have changed to such outlandish proportions that it’s difficult to believe that these changes have only happened in a year. The sudden dissolution of two friendships became the single greatest motivation for me to uproot myself from the job I hated once and for all, and procure a new one. My parents’ unspoken approval of my relationship and their acceptance of my wanting to learn to be on my own again has resulted in me preparing to move out of my family home and into one of my own, with the love of my life.
When I talked to my colleague yesterday about my experience of being back here, I started to tell her that it eventually gets easier to accept and adapt to being here. But then I checked myself and instead said that it eventually becomes less difficult. Thanks to the dear friends I still have there, like Shirley and Cora, the memories and the experiences will never go away, nor will the sharp pain of nostalgia brought on by them, but I will always use them to help me define what I do and the kind of person I want to be.
And so begins my fourth year, in this new life that I have yet to really learn to live.