No part of me wants to go back to Saigon.
I sat up in my rented bed this morning, staring out at Taipei. My hands limp in my lap, the same thought crossing my mind; what if I stayed?
I don’t expect others to understand my decisions.
I’ve built systems to stop myself; signing a lease. Tying myself down to something so I don’t float out in orbit. I think of my apartment and the insidious anxiety I feel within it. How I happy cried after I signed, a root to plant. Now it sits atop me as a burden; something to pay for each month, with more than a check. Smothering mattress, blinding lights, ants claiming the remaining square inches for their own. Encroachment, disappearing acts, heavy headed stares at the ceiling lamp. I don’t care about my crap, my art, all I packed to start this life.
A life that floats up in thin air, hollow and fragile like a balloon. Ready to pop the higher it gets. Nothing holds me down.
It could be so freeing, if it weren’t so at once, all together terrifying.
I told Bronze while I have these people I love, no one understands this. This being the grand decision to pick my life up from one country to another; and what that entails. Explanations exhaust. And, he’s all I have. So fighting, and feeling misheard, misunderstood and mistreated sends me to this sunken place.
He said he wants to make me as comfortable as possible, he doesn’t want me to feel this way. I don’t know what I’m doing. Everything that happens cuts me down. This shit with Apax is not okay. I don’t want to be a drone for this company I don’t trust. I want to maintain the integrity I always have; not to align with anything I don’t believe in. Say no to the Kool-aid, and the superficial, self-prioritizing, dismissive bunch swimming in it. It’s only after they screw you that they can be honest. “Oh yeah, that’s Apax. That’s the way it is. I don’t know why anyone sticks it out more than a year. Once my year is up, I’m out!”
Who the fuck
Chooses this?
Who gives up a year of their life, succumbing to a corporation they loathe? Ties themselves to a system they can’t stand? That doesn’t work? That can and will hurt them?
I don’t understand this shit. Lindsay said, “Maybe I’m a plebeian sheep, or maybe it gets easier.” But I don’t want to wake up with dread. I didn’t move these thousand miles to awake with dread, or dismiss mistreatment. I didn’t leave my life to settle for something else…So much of what I choose is principle. At times I think this may be sincere idealism or romanticism—or idealized nobelium, whatever the fuck. Michael always said I want things to be honorable, I want to be honorable. We have a code of honor.
But this is business. “Business,” meaning somehow I can’t take it personally. I can’t take it personally this institution got their hooks in me with a sold lie and scammed me out of hours of work and hundreds of dollars. An institution built on false promises, growing without ground to stand on. Without a pot to piss in. If Apax was a man, he’d be exposed by now. He’d come with a warning sign, do not trust me. Running bullshit game on anyone willing.
I’m not the type to accept mistreatment. I wouldn’t let a man lie to my face, steal my money, and feed me empty excuses.
In return, I don’t want to be made of talk. Saying I hate this shit to rollover and take it. There’s more out there for me.
A decision is made. As scared as I am of the uncertainty attached. Another company could just as easily do the same; hook me in with promises of quality. Low hours, high pay, flexibility, honesty, support. Sure, it sounds good…all my worries and journalistic energy triggered. There’s only so much research I can do before I see for myself. Maybe Bronze is right, we’re so close to the finish line. This marathon started in March; and now they’ve introduced the obstacle course. So this moment is defined by lacing up, and getting ready to jump. Quit, race to the next position, run, doesn’t work? Jump, quit, onto to the next one.
I don’t know anyone who’s been comfortable in the middle of a race.
We’re going to keep interviewing, I imagine it becoming a game. Looking into positions, dreaming up a life path, what if we lived in Shanghai? Taichung? Guangzhou? Seoul? What could it cost, what would the studio be like, what would we eat, what could we earn, save, create together? Let’s chart our options, plan A-Z.
It looks like I’ve got to keep my roots to myself before I can plant. Carlos says to be like a lotus; it grows in the murkiest, shittiest conditions. But it blossoms into this rare, beautiful thing. He also says growth doesn’t happen in our comfort zones. We have to remember our motive, what the fuck is this all for anyway? Put your energy there.
This photo was taken in Taipei, Taiwan
Comentários