a message to you, rudy.

I have no idea what I want to do with my life.
There, I said it.

(in case you haven't already noticed, I'm also using capital letters in the appropriate places - for once - since the plan is to be a writer, I guess it's only right that I write properly. ha ha. Ten points for my sparkling wit *rolls eyes*)

I'm lying in bed at 5:39 in the morning, after spur-of-the-moment-ly registering for the 2011 graduate fellowship programme at WPP then just as abruptly closing the window 5 minutes later, post-perusal of essay questions (part of the application) and realizing that I am wayyy out of my league and what the hell was I thinking?

My aspirations are not that lofty, or are they?

That said, having a defeatist mentality while attempting something is never a good idea. If you think you're going to fail before you try to succeed, why even bother?

I officially graduated in July, flew back to Singapore 2 weeks later for an intended 10 days only to have my stay extended for over a month - all for the sake of attaining a precious 2 year post-grad visa in UK. Prior to having my passport confiscated for official purposes, I absconded to Hong Kong with F for an expenses-paid escapefrommymother filled with more room service than I could afford and makeup/skin care binges at DFS - I hate to admit it but it's time to start investing in anti-ageing creams - + long awaited reunions with close friends.

Early September, I returned to London for oh, all of... 2 weeks before flying back yet again to attend the funeral of my beloved AJ and be with my family at a time of crisis and tragedy.

Which seems to be a common theme for 2010. I've thus christened it The season of breakups, and heartache in general. Everyone seems to be breaking up and/or heartbroken. What the hell is going on? I've avoided bringing up the topic completely given the past few months' happenings but I think I will slowly get back on my blogging wagon and vent out my long overdue angst.

People around me, younger than me, the same age as me, around me (oh sorry I said that twice, to emphasize my point of course!) are writing books (being offered book deals more like), owners of famous blogs, attending fashion shows around the world (hello, getting invited! in the first place), writing articles for actual publications to be seen and read, hell, being featured in magazines, getting PAID for their services/general omnipresence, wearing designer (read: sponsored) clothing/having free clothes sent to their doorstep just begging to be worn....

Let me see, have I missed anything?

And all for what? For uploading pictures of themselves every. single. day. in 'different' outfits that all seem to look the same? For hiring a boyfriend/friend to follow you around and photograph your every move? For dressing a little strangely/being 12 years old/discussing obscure designers? For having the money to invest in any item (designer or vintage) you damn well please and then visually documenting it, extensively might I add.

[By the way: this ranty-ravey para does not apply to EVERYONE. Only a select few.]

Even the concept of '15 minutes of fame' has its limitations and pre-requisites. Damn, so now you have to be attractive/rich (enough to afford the lifestyle)/have famous and or stupidly wealthy-influential-well-connected parents/know the right people/be seen at the right places in order to be deemed worthy of any attention - what next? 

I just realized I am massively contradicting myself. On one hand I'm saying that it's ridiculously easy to become famous/get noticed and on the other I'm making a long list of pre-requisites. 


So what I'm saying is: it's easy to be famous but it's not? Exactly.

For the record I'm not referring to fame per se. I don't actively seek fame, in fact I'm certain that should fame come knocking at my door I would wave it goodbye with a polite no thank you. I aspire to be someone well-respected and recognised in the industry for their talent and hard work, and save for the occasional obligatory appearance at fashion shows, someone who otherwise remains behind closed doors and works behind the scenes. There will be no random appearances at envelope openings or crappily scripted reality tv shows. Hell no!

I have a diploma in Apparel Design & Merchandising and a first class honours BA in Fashion Promotion. And I can't seem to catch a break. I find myself hunting and applying for jobs every day (at home) instead of socialising and partying every night out on the town - which let's be honest, would probably reap more rewards because as I'm sure you've heard, fashion is about WHO YOU KNOW. Which I really hate sometimes; why isn't it about how talented or capable or hard working or creative or original you are? Why of all things is it about name-dropping and getting spectacularly wasted every week (and effectively broke) in order to get a foot in the door = coveted internship (unpaid obviously) with that fantastic stylist who just so happens to party in the east?

Some blogger once wrote that in order to work in fashion you have to live/breathe/dream/godknowswhatelseshesaid-it. I vehemently disagree. I for one have lived long enough to know firsthand that there is more to life than fashion.

And if/when I make it someday (right now 'if/when i make it' translates to = get a job) I'll make sure that I'll need no reminders of what I've said here today.

Peace out.

Um, 1 hour and 3 minutes after my initial statement, I still have no idea what I want to do with my life. Hurrah.

Hur-fucking-rah.