Have you guys entered the giveaway yet? ;)

I bought me some ribbons from Rosa Pomar. They were sold out last year, so I didn’t hesitate when they came on again!

I know it’s horrid that I don’t blog here often enough — Pikaland keeps me so busy that I can hardly can see straight sometimes. But it’s a great feeling to have, so I’m not complaining!

Taking things slow is what I’m aiming to do. I’ve been zipping around like a fly on meth (don’t ask me where I got the idea), constantly flitting from one place to another — I felt that I missed out on chunks of life that’s happening around me. So the resolution for the year, which I kept, is to take things a little slower, and to find my ground.

My last day at the office was this Monday, and boy was it difficult to say goodbye to routine. Switching off my good ol’ Powermac at work for the last time was bittersweet. Hugging colleagues and drinking in the environment which I have been bitching about became a little ritual in itself.

Now that I’ve leapt into the unknown, I’m surprised to see so many nets waiting to catch me should I fall. It’s a great feeling, and after a few weeks of nervous twitching and re-thinking (yes, there were smack-me-silly moments where I almost chickened out), I breathed a sigh of relief throughout the last week I was at work. I could only feel a calm joy coursing through my veins.

I’m pushing as hard as I can, but at the same time I’m also unwinding and unraveling parts of me that I didn’t even knew existed.

Discovery is a great feeling.

“So did you make a wish for your birthday?”

“Yup.”

“Peace and happiness for everyone? Like last year?”

“That you’ll be my wife.”

For the days when the rain won’t seem to let up, and the sun refuses to shine, I know there are people out there who are waiting for me with an umbrella and a blanket, hands outstretched, and hugs to make it all feel better.

Thank you.

More inspiration here, and in Marisa’s podcasts.

I’ll tell you this: it isn’t easy to juggle a couple of things at the same time! I’ve been pretty busy for the past few weeks, what with Mr T’s parents coming over, and with a couple of other obligations in the way, our weekends didn’t really belong to us!

But good things first — Marichelle just started a blog about handmade lovelies on the Hearthandmade blog, and things are looking very swell — I love the design of her blogs, and this is no different. Go Marichelle!

I bought myself a Moleskine diary for 2008, and because it’s almost April, I got it at 50% off. Well, the year is almost one-third over, but I got it anyway because it’s going to document my journey come April/May, so to me, it’s a sort of a new beginning to me anyway. :)

The PikaPackage project on Pikaland is doing very well, with a fantastic line-up of artists so far, so I’m very grateful for the support and encouragement I’ve received.

I have a lot of emails to reply, but thank you so much to everyone who left a comment on my last post on IF. Thanks for sharing your stories! I’ve also made some new friends along the way — it’s a fantastic feeling to have kindred spirits who knows what you’re going through.

And I’ve been thinking of what I’m going to do with my home. It’s still not officially ours yet, so I’m just scouting around for inspirations. Holly’s flickr page is especially wonderful!

1. West Elm 2007—Look@that lamp!, 2. so open and interesting for dining with friends, 3. AB Chao’s Hip Lousiana Abode, 4. Urban Outfitters, 5. I like those green ceiling beams, 6. House to Home, 7. House to Home, 8. An Angel at my Table, 9. Liza Giles {designer}

And here’s Mr T with Cookie – she adores him to bits. And for those who wrote in with well wishes for her, you’ll be interested to know that she has changed a little since her ordeal — she’s much more affectionate and brave too.

Hand drawn, digitally rendered.
A bigger image here.

There’s a certain sense of fear when you leap into the unknown.

I know that, and I’ve been avoiding taking leaps whenever I can because I’m not sure what will catch me if I fall. I’ve discovered that once you’ve set out your purpose, the hows will slowly answer themselves — like a pages in a storybook that will unfold in due time.

I’ve seen many others throwing caution to the wind and suffered for their dreams, and most of them are now living the life they had once dreamed of. I realize that we can’t expect things to fall into place by themselves, and that suffering and pain is a necessary experience that will test our strength and faith. We can’t write a book with a beginning and an ending without the middle. That’s where the important stuff happens. That’s when you grow. That’s when you become whole. And without the middle, nothing makes sense.

I’m sure I’ll make new discoveries, and in the process become whole, instead of being half the best that I could be.

I can’t say for sure where I’ll end up. And I can’t even describe to you how afraid I am as I try to carve a different path for myself. I’m not sure where this is all going. I could fail miserably, or I could soar.

But all I can do now is to remember to spread my wings and let the wind catch me.

“Hope, is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense regardless of how it turns out.”

~ Vavclav Havel

I quit my job yesterday.

I finally mustered enough courage to do it. It wasn’t a last minute decision — and it wasn’t a rash one as well. It wasn’t personal at all. It was a selfish decision, and it was one that I made for my own good.

After staying for almost two years at my company (April would be my second anniversary there), I felt that I had nothing more to give. I did the best I could — I started a regional magazine, and did a pretty darn good job, if I could say so myself. Of course, there’s always room for improvements, but this was a place where I can’t climb anymore — any higher and I would step over my boss (I was the head of the editorial department)!

Why did I quit? Well, I wanted to challenge myself out of my comfort zone, and be wiling to take calculated risks for things I believe in. I wanted to try and push myself to not accept a life where I feel like I am sleepwalking through the day. Mainly though, it was because I had nothing to lose.

I could stay on, and be the media darling of designers and architects, but I wanted something more, and I believe that my work at my company does not define who I am. It would have been an easier to stay put, but by doing so, the cost of such a decision far outweighs the good, and if I’m not careful, I risk being stuck. I can’t have that — not now anyway.

It’s a two-month notice that’ll see me working through April, but my real adventure begins in May, where I’ll be in a new environment for a while. I can’t wait to walk down the Philosopher’s Path again.

——————————————————————————————-

PS: Thank you everyone for your kind remarks about Cookie – she was a little shaken, but is slowly recovering from the ordeal. And so are we!

Cheras is a town 10 kilometers away from where I am, and Mahkota Cheras is a sprawling township that is connected laterally via a main road that strings all of the development together.

We lost Cookie in this area — an area that has side-to-side pockets of residential houses along with vast grasslands and forests on its fringe. The first two times we saw her, she was on a grassy slope, and the last time we saw her, was that she skidded down — to another residential area. We knew she wouldn’t make it back up again, and therefore had moved on to a bigger area.

We panicked. She could be anywhere.

As we trudged up and down the area, we saw a carcass of a dog that made us fear for the worst (the area has seen plenty of lost dogs). We went back to the site at 10pm, and drove around, desperately searching for her under cars (she loved to crawl under there for refuge — there’s loads of other dogs around, and Cookie was defenseless with a muzzle on, and without food and water, she was getting weaker.

I couldn’t sleep a wink at all. I woke up to a thunderstorm, and my imagination running into overdrive — I worry about her being scared, alone and hungry. What if she was accosted by dogs, or worse, humans?

I went for a meeting this morning, and only went back to the site at around 12pm, and continued our search. We went all around, and by this time, although I am hopeful we will find her again, I was prepared for the worst.

The odds were clearly stacked against us — finding her was like finding a needle in a haystack, and I couldn’t bear to give up, not when she was in that condition.

We went to a secluded strip of road and continued our search, stopping to ask a security guard to see if he saw a dog with a muzzle on wandering the area. Surprisingly — because we asked a lot of people without much success — he said yes.

My dad gave him his mobile number and told him that if he were to spot her again, that he should give him a call — with a reward waiting for him. We went on our search again and settled down for a breather at about 3pm, and just as we were about to leave — my dad for home and my mom, sis and I to stay behind and search for her some more, the security guard called.

We hurried over to where he was, and he took us to her, slowly. And we could see her — hidden underneath some shrubs, still as can be. We could never have found her on our own — the area was so big, and because we could not pinpoint her exact location, the situation was horrible. And to add to that, she could not eat, bark nor defend herself, PLUS she had a big wound on her body that was set to get worse if she didn’t get medical attention.

We crouched down and called her name, but she was apprehensive — my mom shook her vitamin pillbox and cooed her name, and she started to wag a little. As my mom released her muzzle, her tail began to wag faster and harder, shoving her face in between my mom’s hands and licking her. My dad brought along food from a nearby restaurant and we laid them down where she gulped it down with a lot of water. We found her at last!

My mom was so happy because she thought she wouldn’t be able to see her again, as did I. Thirty hours of fear, hunger and loneliness — I think we almost felt the same way (hers was way worse, of course).

It sure feels good to hold her again in my arms.

Thank you for keeping us in your thoughts.

I had a flat tire this morning at 9.00am, and I found my dog Cookie had a cut wound on her side, and told my mom to call the vet.

I let my vet bundle my dog Cookie in the van with a muzzle on.

And once my dad changed my tire, I set off to work — but mom called a short while later to tell me that Cookie broke free and was lost.

I cried.

And I sped off with my dad to find her.

We did, but she ran away as soon as we got close, and as we called her name. She was still wearing the muzzle, and my heart broke when I saw her run away.

Mr T came back all the way from work and helped me in my search, and soon got a call that she was in the exact same spot where we found her the first time. We rushed over there midway through a quick lunch.

Mr T went to her, and tried to coax her, but she soon ran away too. This time faster, and more determined to get away from everyone. She slid down a small hill and she disappeared. My heart sank.

We waited, and walked through every road and residential lanes, to small pockets of hills, calling out her name, clapping our hands.

We couldn’t find her.

It’s now 9.30pm and I’m worried sick. I’ve never lost a pet before and it’s not something I’m ready for.

Please think of her for me.