Goddess, I Am.

And so dewy Iris flew down from the sky on saffron-colored wings, trailing a thousand different colors across the sun… - From Virgil’s Aeneid

I remember my last year of high school. While everyone else talked nonstop about the courses they were going to take and the universities they were going to attend, I did nothing. Oh, it wasn’t because I was a lazy slacker who couldn’t care less if I ended up selling my body on the streets. It was mostly because, short of becoming a porn star (seriously), I didn’t know what I wanted to be.

So I ended up heeding my mum’s advice and taking up accountancy, the same degree that she has. I lasted a full year before I conceded that I didn’t have a head for numbers. Because I needed a good excuse to transfer to my best friend’s university, I chose a course that was only offered there – journalism. I transferred too late, however, so I ended up taking a few unimportant minor subjects that first semester.

By the time the second semester rolled in, my family had already convinced me that I couldn’t possibly have a future in journalism. The future was in computers, they told me; hence, why I ended up taking up IT. Three very long and very excruciating years later, I finished the course and couldn’t be bothered to turn up for my graduation. I was just relieved to be rid of school forever.

Off to the job market I went, and because I spoke English with a passable American accent, I ended up working for a call center. This was the start of my love/hate affair with call centers. For 3 years, I ended up working for 2 of the big centers in my city and one ‘publishing’ company that refused to be dubbed as such – a call center, that is. I also worked in a bank, at some point. The pay was crap and the work bored me to tears, so I eventually ended up taking calls again. I dabbled in technical support, sales, and customer service. Eventually, I worked myself up to quality assurance.

Somewhere along the way, I got it into my head that I wanted to be a teacher. I applied for various training jobs, but always got turned down. I even went back to school for a spell to get a teaching degree, but ended up quitting in the middle of the term because juggling work and school was too exhausting for me. I eventually ended up in Thailand in some obscure coordinator job, and eventually to teach English where I was unceremoniously fired after my first week.

So where does writing fit in all this? I would say it was when I started blogging, but looking back, I think it was far longer than that. I kept diaries as a teenager. Eventually, the diaries became blogs. Back in high school, my best friends and I started an underground newspaper that everyone loved – everyone except our English teacher who promptly outlawed it. We also wrote a bunch of silly 'novels' to rival the Sweet Valley series in grubby, old notebooks that are now gathering dust under my best friend's bed.

For the longest time, I’ve been having my love affair with words, and I just didn’t know about it because, to me, it was always just a hobby, something that came as naturally as breathing, and it was never really nurtured or encouraged. I didn’t even think that I was actually a good writer until a blogger friend of mine, who I was (and am) a huge fan of and who I respect most, told me that she enjoyed my writing. It was only then that I even considered writing freelance for a living. And even then, I could only do it part-time because I, like all and sundry, didn’t think it was a real job.

If I never left the security of the call centers, if I never had delusions of being a teacher, if I never got fired from a job that I hated every single day that I was doing it, I wouldn’t have had the courage to pursue what I love most. I wouldn’t be writing for a living, and I probably wouldn’t be happy. Indeed, I probably wouldn’t know who – and what - I really am.

Somewhere along the way I took a wrong turn that kept me from my ultimate destiny. But I found my way back, and I’m here now. I'm now where I'm supposed to be, something that a lot of people can't say about themselves. And really, I’m not going anywhere. I'm here to stay.