Promoted and demoted in 6 months. What do you do? You run away to NYC

I stood by the narrow aisle, waiting for the line of people ahead of me to move. I had just arrived in New York at 2:30am. Instead of being excited, I was gripped by stress and an amount of trepidation. I tightened my hand on my overnight bag, a bag containing my yellow, blue and white sneakers. One by one, the passengers shuffled out, eager to be rid of the tightness the airplane imposed.

And yet I insist on doing this again and again. Solo travel. It's stressful, nerve-wrecking, disciplining, non-relaxing and yet it's the most wonderful therapy for character development. I do it because I emerge better each time. I get to know myself better each time. I get a little closer to God.

I insist on solo traveling because it does wonders for me.

The past 6 months had been trying, challenging. I had been given a new role in the office that I adapted too with great difficulty. I’ve always been a writer and had a free spirit compared to my corporate friends. I would listen to their stresses over tea and calmly dish my sagely advice while I sipped milk tea. Perhaps I didn't know how free spirited I was until I was given a team to oversee. My world was suddenly plundered with stress and difficult people. I can only describe the feeling as being given too large a commitment. I felt like a single girl who was force-fed a husband and too many children. I felt like the weight of a cupboard had been put upon my bony shoulders.

In the course of the 4 months where my role really took off, I felt misunderstood and under-appreciated. I didn't enjoy the work and I had too little information about everything. I was expected to deliver instantaneous results without even really knowing my entire job scope. For the first time in my life, I got a flu that lasted 5 weeks.

Besides the role in the office, I had started a new project for the company called Journalist Talks. This was something I was passionate about and it showed great promise. However, like every new product, time and manpower were required. Being the lone soldier in carrying this out, I was eventually weary from organizing talks and giving talks. When one journalist pulled out 2 days before a talk, I fell into depression for 1 day. The thought of giving yet another talk gave me a gag reflex. I remember sitting in my dance studio looking glazed, bitter at the thought of giving a talk tomorrow. "Are you okay?" my friend asked. "Just a tough day," I replied.

I started a project for my company called Journalist Talks :)

I was drained from corporate jostling. Where once I used to write monthly, I hadn't written a single article since Chinese New Year. It was also within this new role that I got to know myself a whole lot better. Very distinctly, I learned what I didn't like, or perhaps, what I was weak in. I hated analysing, writing dumb reports and drawing tables. I hated weekly meetings. I hated email threads. If there was such a term as "Death by Admin" it would be me. I imagined my funeral where relatives nodded matter-of-factly, “Oh yes, the poor girl died because of too much paperwork."

More importantly, as I looked back on my stressful months, I learned what I could really do. I never realised how aggressive I could be in getting a client. I never realised how persistent I could be in doing boring things. I was very good at landing appointments and finding ways to make things happen for clients. I found that I was very loyal and proactive in bettering my company. I was also a pretty good public speaker. It was only upon deeper reflection that I realized why this 6 months had to happen. It made me so much better.

When I was finally summoned into my boss' room, he told me kindly that it wasn't working out. Since I started, I was busy seeing clients and trying to make Journalist Talks work. But truthfully that wasn't my job description. I was supposed to be analysing and looking at data and finding ways to increase numbers. I thought I was doing that in my way. But with no results, nothing mattered. In conclusion, I was doing a really sucky job.

My boss told me that my skills were best put into a different section, one which involved seeing a lot of clients. Reality hit and I experienced 2 emotions simultaneously.
First. Humiliation. I felt like a failure.
Second. Intense relief. Fucking intense relief.

I remember sitting by the stone slab in the lobby feeling sorry for myself, two contrasting emotions washing over me in cascading waves.

I have always felt successful. Besides my dayjob, I run my own company Superheroes, doing writing, publicities and tv production. The company has always done generally well and it affords me things a 9-5 cannot.

In my mad quest to excel in my new role, I had put Superheroes in the backburner in the last 6 months. I had hardly made any money from my own company in that period; and now, despite my hard work in my new role, I was being demoted.. I felt totally unsuccessful and stuck.

However, when I awoke on Monday morning, I walked to the office with a significantly different feeling. My step was lighter. The feeling was............... freedom. I felt........... like a single girl again. I felt like the husband and children had been taken away. No offense to happy families, but as a single girl, it felt great. The cupboard from my shoulders had gone.

As I plonked myself on my chair, my smile became noticeably wider. I looked at the gray files that I had been reviewing in the last 4 months. Suddenly happiness washed over me. I would not longer have to look at these dreadfully boring files. I happily gave them to my colleague who asked for them. Why anyone would want them baffled me, but yes, please take it away. Take it far away from me!

Two days later, a client called up. In the past months, I had been trying to monetise Journalist Talks with no success. Suddenly, this client wanted to take it up and sign an agreement. They were going to pay for my Journalist Talks. I felt a rush and my eyes widened in disbelief. A few days later, another client took it up. A few days later, another client, and another client. As hokey as this sounds, it proved to me that you only attract success when your state of mind is clear and positive. I was working with a lot more zest now.

I decided it was time to reward myself obscenely. I went to Expedia.com and bought a ticket to NYC. I signed up for 3 Screenwriting classes in Manhattan. I went to Airbnb and chose a cosy home in Brooklyn. Then I informed mama and friends that I would be leaving for NYC in 2 weeks.

And so I arrived in NYC in early June at 2:30am. Denise my host greeted me with so much warmth when I stumbled into Brooklyn. Was I in a dream? After a warm shower, I collapsed on my cosy bed and drifted off. When I opened my eyes the next day, I opened the door and a little Latina girl peered at me curiously. Wow! Reality hit. I was in NYC! I was miles away from home!

Part 2: My NYC Solo Adventure

I spent my first day in Prospect Park attempting to have a picnic :)

My plan in NYC was to spend my days writing a screenplay. I had recently taken up screenwriting after I got involved in the movie industry in Malaysia. It had been hard to write when my mind was distracted and tired. Now, in NYC with its parks and the fascinating American people, I was determined to get significant work done.

And write I did. Not that it was easy. Writing requires discipline and it took awhile to let my flow come. I planned my days everyday. I spent the first day in Brooklyn, exploring, sitting in parks, having coffee and writing. I would repeat the same thing in Harlem, Manhattan, Chinatown, Prospect Park, Central Park, Coney Island.

Writing a screenplay is very different from writing a short story, but there are similarities. I began to get into my character’s head as I wrote. I began to feel that I was doing something right with my story. I think that when a story takes life, you know you’re headed in the right direction.

I did not feel lonely at all. This was my fourth time doing a solo and my stamina at being alone had developed tremendously. I had also brought an iPhone tripod and I took dozens of pictures of myself with ease. New Yorkers found it funny. I have to give myself credit for taking a lovely shot somewhere near 42nd street with its throng of people and cars. You really need patience, not to mention thick skin to pose over and over again to get your shot. I got many bemused smiles by people.

I absolutely love the energy in NYC.

I stayed in Farragut Road in Brooklyn, an area that consisted predominantly of African Americans and West Indians. Every morning as I walked the street to the subway station, I noticed that I was the only Chinese girl in sight. Once I got lost, so I took a Uber. I couldn't help feeling like a nerd when the African American guy asked me all ghetto "Which way you want me to take you?" He was lazily eating chips while a cool tune by the rapper Future played in his car. I was so fascinated by the whole 10-minute ride,  oblivious to him of course.

Home for me was Farragut Road near Flatbush Avenue

I couldn't have asked for a better holiday. I found out that an "End Dog Meat" protest would be held in NYC during my time there. Wow! I was a passionate dog lover and I immediately committed to go. I appeared in the China Consulate at 12th Avenue that sunny morning in my new red Forever 21 sweatshirt. It was my first time protesting and I can only describe it as being very passionate and tiring. Americans are far more passionate than Asians and I was surprised when the girl next to me started crying. I like how outspoken and definite the protesters were about being there.  I also sensed a hardness and anger among the more passionate protesters. Passion really brings people together. All that chanting for 2 hours is pretty exhausting though. I looked around and everyone seemed unfazed, so energetic and passionate. Yikes. I swallowed my exhaustion and continued chanting merrily.

"It's not culture, it's torture." We chanted and chanted tirelessly.

Perhaps the highlight of my trip was attending my Screenwriting class with my instructor Paul Zimmerman. It was in this NYC trip that I discovered yet another side of myself. I have to say, while I am a writer, I’ve never really given respect to my skill. I profusely admire others who have skills – dance, martial arts, football, drawing, music and etc. But to myself, I always think “Nah, my skill ain’t anything special.”

After speaking with Paul and going through Screenwriting Class, I saw clearly that I was meant to tell a story. It’s just something very natural for me. I’ve always had a knack for knowing what works and what is interesting. Paul is an excellent writer and I found it extremely attractive. I think meeting him made me see writing in the way I should have always seen it. It made me respect my skill. I was determined to make writing my number one priority when I went back to Malaysia. Often, if I had to choose between working out and writing, I would choose working out. Not because I liked writing less, but for some demented reason, I felt that writing was less important. No more. Absolutely no more. I will work on my craft.

My writing instructor Paul changed my view on writing tremendously :)

I spent the day before my flight in Coney Island. I think it was the perfect ending to an amazing holiday. As a child, I had heard so much about this magical place through movies and here I was now, looking at the kaleidoscope of colour and fun before me. I sat on the Wonder Wheel and marveled at the sight from its soaring height. I’m a chicken when it comes to heights. That was probably the only time I wish I had someone with me – on the Wonder Wheel. I felt so blessed to be able to give myself this holiday. It was also my first time in an American beach. I'd never seen so many body varieties and skimpy swimsuits in my life. It was amazing and an excellent lesson in body-love.

Happy and rejuvenated and grateful in Coney Island.

I finished 80% of my screenplay in NYC. I couldn’t believe I had managed to put together 60 scenes of a movie.

I can't help liking America tremendously because of my familiarity with all the movies and books I’ve watched and read. I love the American friendliness and proacticve-ness. It's magic every time I go there. I’ve been to other countries but none gives me that spirituality the way USA does for me. Yes, people start critiquing me and giving me reasons why I shouldn't revere the US. What can I say? It's personal. US works for me, flaws and all.

I flew back in an extremely rejuvenated and energetic state. I felt “successful.” And sure enough, my life began to turn around. I started waking up early and becoming productive. I began getting opportunities for Superheroes. I signed another deal. I started writing articles again. I cannot stress the importance of a solo journey. It's true what they say. If you want to find God, find it within yourself. And you can pretty much find it when you solo.

And the tune my Uber guy was playing? It's called "Trap Niggas." I've got Future's DS2 album on my playlist. I can rap now yo!

This article was written in 2017.