all begins with L

on why i’m at peace: this is a cut&paste so don’t be offended. )

“Alright, here we go.

Eight months on and I am declaring that my quarter life crisis is coming to a proper wrap. After series of interviews, taking aims and pursuing ‘proper’ jobs, I walked away from the last interview feeling utterly relieved knowing that I wouldnt be taking up the position despite putting on a good show.

After an hour of grilling the CEO looked at me and say that I am not one who value sales as much as marketing. I looked at him and went “absolutely.” We all know that a good product is a matter of being communicated, sales is a by-bonus end results. Chey-bah. )

After which I recommended him a good restaurant to have lunch in and he asked me to join him. But then I thought my time with him that day was already over stretched.

I am however meeting him again for possible collaboration. I’m beginning to embrace this mantra of working with people, not for people, even if you’re in a company. And that’s exactly what I’m gearing on with this coffee stint.

True enough, couple of weeks down the road, I saw the present in light. I start to work with what’s around me, my customers, my colleagues, the bosses and just working with the present value.

After seven months I’ve gradually make known to the managers of what I really want to do professionally and right now I’m co-interior designing the new coming cafe these guys are setting up. End of August I’ll be heading to Italy for the Biennale.

Coming back I’ll be starting an introductory course on Interior Design, not a masters nor a bachelor but a starting point. I’m beginning to love London for what it’s worth. Even today taking a new bus route home, I chance upon a road I’ve yet to stroll by.

It hasn’t been easy, I’ve made fools out of myself and still catching myself doing so at times, I’ve gotten quiet lately, perhaps having something to do makes you talk less, and if you talk less then you’ll really find something to do. The equation seems to work at present moment.”

THE FOLLOWING IS NOT CUT&PASTE, SO PAY ATTENTION. )

well, yes the ceo extended a dinner invitation next week. why not. and there’s a new distraction in town. when i get a name, i’ll let you know.

i found an interior design course from st martin which i’ll be signing up for when i get back from Italy. starts in October. Lola leaves London for good tomorrow, i’m quite sad about it actually.

i kinda fought with Sanran, I don’t know how to put it across to him that I can’t be friends with him anymore unless we completely put aside this intimacy.

on a more trivial note, i’m meeting ms. elizaveta tomorrow.

man?women?man?women? is never the question. )

you, i miss, as always.

now what next
for the coming decade

ps. i miss the family

there’s a certain ritual to ushering in the new year, or rather if you’re a less futuristic person (with a history major) you would say instead, ‘to wrap up the year’. And they are almost accurately as follows:

a) reading old letters/blog post
b) scrolling through phone numbers
c) and delete those you’d probably not need to remember about (or pursue) in the new phase of your life
d) decide whether you really should delete their numbers
e) chart how old your virtual pets are, namely your blog, your flickr acccount, your twitter account, ourchart account, hotmail account??!
f) re reading certain post and stomach a guffaw, re re re reading another post
g) that brings a trip down memory lane that turns into another lane, then goes waaay into the back lane
h) and go “omg C, look what i found!!”
i) and go bloody hell! my blog is turning three!

the flings, the affairs, the trials, the pursuits, the fantasies that partially morphed into bitter sweet realities, here we we go again.

if only women could do business the way men do with men, if only men could do business with women the way men do with men.

i want to work for yoo. i want to work with yoo. and then i want to own something like yoo.

Two weeks into studded heels and power suits, i still do not know if this is temporary or a ladder up for real. For one third the figure that most of you would badge as a graduate, i get compensated with meeting sons of ministers and a princess of a sultan from across the former home ground.

An investment i’d like to believe, and this is not one for the short haul.

i just stepped out, into the balcony of the office
lit up and looked over at the sun setting over the bosphorus
and i thought to myself, this is the place i never dreamt of

the cracks of old dilapidated buildings, the satellite dishes that dangle of them, could very well murder someone in the next minute, the bridges that lead to home

the imperfection that i could live with
this is the place i have never dreamt of, but it is a dream that i am living in
like a two month old baby, this is where or rather how i am starting,
everything on a fresh new page

and it starts with learning how to speak… literally.

keeping fingers/palms/toes/tongue crossed.

I have officially graduated, in a less official (eventful) manner. No gowns, no glamour shots of shimmering heels and satin dresses, no because I had chosen to seize the one opportunity to chase a decade long dream.

A little part of me is still sore of not being able to be part of The Graduation Ceremony.

I wish I could.

“You make me happy, double.” - you

“I love you but I love me more. I’ve been in this relationship for fourty-nine years darling.” - SATC

“…when he colors, he barely stays within the lines.” - SATC

“I just love coloring.” (laughs) - SATC

“I’m such a lucky blessed fuck.” - you know who you are

Istanbul is a drug. We shoot it in our veins from dusk to dawn, and have bread to soak it up in the day.
Alexander Hacke began his narration “it is a land of contrast…”

It is to me an oxymoron in every sense of an experience. Where east meets west, where nationalism hinges on the quest to modernization, where the call for prayers is blasted five times a day in every nook of the city, along side catchy rhythm of electronic fusion turkish folklore.

It is a muslim country where alcohol holds a special understanding between the glass shot and God.
Sneakers are don with Gucci shades and rainboots are good all year round.
Every cafe is a breakfast saloon, at any given time of the day.

I greet the sunset, live through sunrise and repeat step one all over again.
Four months, seemingly unreal, but I loved every minute of it.

Sherefe.

I have no way of expressing how enamored I am by you, and I will never will because I wish to stay as your homegirl for as long as. And last night I was in love with the music, the dance floor and the dinner that came before.

The coffee predicts that there will be a surprise, a drop of a bomb by the self or another, and you predicted. I made a wish and you forsee it coming true. Only God knows, only he knows.

You are amazing as it is. And I don’t want to fuck this up, I don’t. Let there be love innocent as it is, and let there be courage to face it all. Now I go to sleep and greet the evening when it comes.