Last day of being in my 20s and feeling this nostalgic urge to come back on here to vomit thoughts, as I have for the whole of my 20s. 

Here I am again. 

Typing out my thoughts feel foreign now. I haven't done this in a while. Hello the end of 20s. I know it's technically no big deal and when the clock strikes midnight, I'll be me as I am me right now. But for months leading up to this day I've been extra introspective. This turning of a fresh decade has made me very reflective on the past 10 years. 

They say 20s are trying times and boy weren't they kidding. Trying in so many ways. Trying as in struggling through many different problems: the loss of friends, of dreams, of my rose-tinted glasses, the constant discovery of my own boundaries in a fluid world, of finding what kind of love sits best with me, the unpacking of childhood trauma, the constant rerouting of how I envision life panning out, the pandemic. Trying as in the act of me exploring so many things over the years. The time as a wedding photographer, as a fashion photographer, as a graphic designer, as a photo assistant, as a prop stylist, as a multi-media content producer, as an art director, as an artist, in more than 5 different industries. Trying as in the act of me attempting to be better, be better, be better, year on year. Trying as a constant state, a constant act, almost an assumed state of mind. The trying times have led me somewhere...

And here I am now. 

I am so thankful. I am so contented. There have been many lessons learned. Some so much harder than others. Yun Jing a decade ago was curious, excitable, doe-eyed, an untouched dreamer and a huge tangle of emotions. Yun Jing now is aware, rooted and humbled. She sees people and things in layers now, not black and white. She knows when she is mean to herself but is still learning to be kinder. She struggles to define a version of her own worth unshaken by others' expectations but every day she draws a small line. She learns of a quiet, confident, assuring love. She doesn't feel like she has things figured out but she is sometimes in control. When she doesn't have control, she learns to be accepting of where things will lead her. 

And here she is now. 

A rather good place, filled with rather good people, with a rather good job, with a rather good mental health. 10 years came and went. What a decade! Here's to 30s!

Throwback to this post 10 years ago and in the same spirit...

30th!!!

 A smol little check in, a tiny popping-by to just say "hi" except to probably no one really. 

Hi my little space of word vomit. A space that has held space for me for more than a decade. And to you too if you're reading this. 

4 months into 2021 and I'm doing all right. This month marks 4th month in therapy. I've been working through negative inner workings embedded and entrenched into the way I process and function and it has been such an incredibly enlightening journey. I always knew I would go for therapy at some point in my life because I knew I wanted extra insights into how I am the way I am. It's the introspective side of me I guess. And I always knew if I ever decide to become a parent (years down) it was paramount for me to go to therapy first before making any decision because when it comes to parenting someone, I want to be a better state of self. (Adulting thoughts eh?) I understand therapy still has a certain level of stigma and it took me awhile to open up to the idea that maybe I don't have to be completely and utterly depressed or have a huge debilitating issue in order to have someone guide me through things. I did reached a point where I was so tired of trying to manage my emotions all the time last year so I figured, "Let's ask for help". 

One of the best decision I've done for myself. 

My therapist has been the most... present, patient, empathetic, validating "stranger" I ever had to pour my heart out to. It makes me want to cry knowing there are people out there who are willing and professionally capable to sit there and be there for you, and impart skills on how to show up for yourself whenever you need to. I jokingly call this The School of Yun Jing because I've learnt... so much about myself. I've always known there to be monsters but when I slowly figured out how these monsters came to be in my own mind... there was a huge surge of self-empathy and I'm in turn slowly learning to be much kinder. People always tell you to be kind to yourself but no one tells you it's easier when you realise exactly why you're hard on yourself.

If you ever are entertaining the idea of therapy but have pre-conceived notions that are stopping you from receiving help, take an active step to clarify your doubts and worries. There's such a range of help available, differing price points (I go for a cheaper option and it's been great), specialities and all. Feel free to reach out to me if you want to.

Ahead, a housefly on a flattened cigarette butt in a field of madly waving grass blades. 

Beyond, the ocean laps with a dead fish floating. 

Above, the palm trees heavy with ripened coconuts and leaves like fluttering fingers, and

beside, a love that's both near and far away.

Hey, it's been a while. 

A whole lot of nothing happened for the first half of the year and now with things easing up, a whole lot of new things unexpectedly unfolded for me. For months' I've been freelancing, both doing photography and photo-assisting. Unexpectedly, certain freelance job opportunities opened up and I find myself slowly easing into the world of wardrobe styling and prop styling in the commercial world. I just said a bunch of "why-nots" (I needed to make ends meet) and I guess it led me to this realm of the industry. Every time someone asks me on job what is it that I do, I look at them dumbfounded. Every. Single. Time. How do I explain to someone that I'm a... photographer / photo assistant / stylist assistant and now a prop stylist at times. How do I explain that a large part of my job skills in full-time employment was in art direction and content creation in ad agency / client-side setting. I have my feet dipped in so many ponds I don't know exactly what it is I do. Jack of a lot of trades, master of none eh? 

I know we are all taught to be good at one thing, to work in a job that allows you to walk a long way. A part of me do yearn constant stability and a particular career growth that comes with guaranteed constant increase in salary but while I search for that, hopping around makes a lot of sense to me. Maybe it's curiosity. Maybe it's just me constantly wanting to try different things that allow me to creatively express and execute. Back when I studied art, we were taught a bunch of mediums so we could figure out we liked and worked best with. I guess I never outgrew trying things and I know doing that defies a lot of societal expectations. Sometimes I get frowned upon. I got called a "slut" for hopping around. I'm constantly seen as a junior in respective fields (that's fair). Constantly told I'm never good enough but conveniently capable enough to play different hats anytime someone needs me to. 

Sometimes we go where we have to go when life eggs us towards it yknow? I do work hard. I do try my best with every thing that I do. Times are truly hard now so I take that in my stride and walk a lot more paths. There is nothing wrong with that because nothing is ever for naught. If anything I am proud of being a creative chameleon (or slut) and it makes me prouder that while the job market takes a hit, I can freelance for now and still have a sustainable income. I don't want to sound overtly inspirational but at some point, you got to define your own success. I'm slowly learning to. You don't have to be the top of one particular thing to be successful. And I've seen typically successful people who aren't happy. What is it to you?

27 and A Speck In Vivid Orange.

A year ago, I turned 26 in Tasmania surrounded by vast oceans and grand mountains, sipping wine by the beach as the skies turned a fiery orange. I couldn't have felt any smaller at that point in time, a speck in vivid orange, and oh boy did it gave me a sense of perspective: Life's a whole larger picture I can only partially fathom. 

On the same day a year later, the world felt immensely claustrophobic. It's a strange time right now with the pandemic and the deep sense of limbo that comes with it. It was a strange day to turn a little older knowing the world's on a lockdown, as if time hasn't stood still even when the world had seemed to. I could say "strange" a thousand times and it would not have scratched the surface of this displacement I felt. Everyday I was drinking a concoction of anxiety, helplessness mixed with a generous dose of cabin fever.

On the evening of my 27th birthday, the skies turned to the warmest shade of orange. For exactly 25 minutes, my room was painted a fiery colour and there I was again, a speck in vivid orange. A serendipitous reminder that life's a way larger picture I'm only partially seeing. I don't have all the answers and perhaps I will never have all the answers but that's just how much a speck can know.

Growing older this year is hugely about self-realisation upon self-realisation. They say twenties are trying times and they are. 27 and I feel like I'm still constantly learning, unlearning and relearning, a perpetual reconfiguration of self of sorts. It's me growing a quiet understanding of how I work in a world that works in infinite ways and me carving out my own space.  It's sometimes frustrating to attempt to appreciate life in all its nuances and conundrums, but hey, to my 27th year trying.

Sat down with Maca yesterday at this little park which was oddly filled with only couples and I suppose I can see why. A small little field lit by a couple scattered street lamps with chairs for lounging. Early on we had dinner next to a couple who looked like they were on their early dates in a ridiculously small but cosy ramen store and it was interesting eavesdropping on their conversation and watching their body language. Maca and I met on a dating app so that made their situation relatable. It felt like I knew what they were feeling. Why the guy thought sincerely listening to his date meant not having a single bite of his ramen. Why they were talking about themselves like they are reading their own autobiographies. The same surface narrative you tell about yourself to new people, again and again. Whilst modern dating is a weird hazy realm to navigate, there is so much to two strangers having a sincere go at connecting, taking time, bearing selves and all, that I really appreciate.

I'm glad Maca came out of my "having to be vulnerable" / putting myself out there and meeting all profiles of guys / having to deal with strangers' emotional baggages (which btw... is something you shouldn't have to do) dating period hahaha. 10/10 worth it. 

He's a special one.

sitting down and writing a letter to someone who matters but words are elusive, and stringing them together doesn't make much sense but it seems poetic almost. i guess poetic works. the past month has been a dream, in a real good way, and boy has it been awhile. And come Monday, Maca and I are going on cruise so that's great.

hope you all are well.