I haven’t been able to sleep or eat much these days.

Accepting invites for dinners or to catch a movie is simply my way of distracting myself and keeping my sanity intact. I watch PrisonBreak series from Season 1-3, back to back, just so that my brains and senses get numb from sensory overload, just so that I get too tired to think about anything else because three days away from now, my life hangs on this bloody visa that I am applying for. You might think that a judgment day calls if I’m actually attempting the green card but this lowly regarded visa, by other nationalities, abused and used so often by backpackers from ‘developed countries’ has been eluding Malaysians ever since it’s been introduced: the Working Holidaymaker Visa, guaranteed to scare the shit out of aspiring Malaysian travellers.

I have been tenaciously following forums pertaining the application of this visa, and seems like, chances of getting it are 50% 50%. If you’re lucky, your application gets through without a hitch and you’ll get your visa within 2 working days after you submit your application. If not, they’d call you up for an interview, assume themselves God, interrogate and reduce you to tears if you let them, and then decide whether they want to approve or reject your application, based on your performance and on their whim. Some of the Entry Clearance Officers (GOD) has been reported to be easy-going and some, pretty hostile and look at you like you’re the lowest scum on the earth, trying to get a break in UK. Oh, give me a break!

It’s really not fair, considering that the world’s travelling community is largely made up of backpackers, anarchists, hippies and the like-and frankly speaking, those people you see, hanging out on the streets, filthy like vermin, remarkably stoned and delirious, penniless and squatting away at some rotting corner of Prague or Bangkok, are really not the Malaysians. The dreadlocks, the new age believes, the one-way tickets, not the Malaysians. The ones who do visa runs from Thailand, the ones who believe that they don’t need much to live in the paradise of Ko Phangan, are not Malaysians. Malaysian travellers, are affluent, elite and even though cliquish, are typically concerned with careers and money. And so, such opportunity arises for a visa, these people produce at least RM30-60K in their accounts, just so that they can ‘backpack’ UK. This is ridiculous, making us go through these interviews and trying to mock our ability to survive, when these stressed out Malaysians, wanting a break from their suits and society’s status quo, are rejected and kicked back to their stone cold office environment, just because they don’t speak English that well, or that they don’t have an instinctive Lonely Planet mind that help them plan the perfect backpacking itinerary. But how many ‘savvy’ backpackers you’ve seen, speaks great English? Ever talked to the French, Italians and South Americans? And who needs planning anyway? The idea is to just go and live it up, and whether you survive or you don’t, makes you a better and tougher person.

How do they expect to make us travellers when only the ones who can spout money from out of nowhere are eligible for this visa? It’s no wonder why we, Malaysians, are so out of practice and disconnected from the exciting world of wanderlust-where doors of possibilities are waiting to be opened.

Here are the forums if you’re interested in the 2 year working holiday maker visa, and wish me luck on Wednesday.

P.S-Marc buddy of mine from Toronto said:

“Yingie,

both times my life depended on a visa, (once for France, once for Italy), I had problems – but in the end, through patience and perseverance, I finally got it. There is a way, you just have to suck up and do what they say. And if they say “we’re sorry, we simply can’t issue a visa.”… don’t despair and don’t give up. You’ll think of something.”

Inspiration for writing comes knocking whenever I’m at my busiest. Whenever I’m not pondering, reflecting, analyzing or thinking, it comes, like a torrential downpour, threatening to rain down ideas that I’ll never get to jot down because I goddamn busy doing other things! Like when I’m on a meditation retreat, or when I’m up to my neck, doing data entry work. Like now.

But I know better and this time, I’ve decided to take heed of this muse. Because it never comes twice. Not especially when I’m faced with a blank screen, waiting for something profound to come up.

Anyway, I’m trying to start writing again. A year has passed and my blog is in a rather forlorn state, neglected by its indisciplined owner who claimed to be a writer, despite the fact that saying that she’s a writer, and doing the actual writing itself, are two separate things completely. One’s a concept and the other’s reality.

I’ve got many stories to write about but I need time to sieve through my memory bank. Much has happened from the time I left this blog (to rot!) till present. Some good, some bad, some so-so. When I’m caught up in some sort of obstacle, time somehow crawls by, but now I’m able to look back in retrospect and see the journey that I was on, unfolding itself onto a map of life. It was an interesting year and I’d dearly love to write about it but not now. This post’s merely a teaser (it’s my way of telling Muse to stop bugging me but hey, at least I’m acknowledging its presence).

It took one sultry night, when I was sitting with a bunch of girls that I barely knew (some better than the others), that made me want to make use of this virtual portal as an outlet of expression again. There’s so much to share, on this blank online journal of mine. From time to time, people wanted to know how I did it, like travel without having to worry about money (trust me-it’s not easy being poor but I’ve got people to thank for helping me out of the financial rut) and how I got myself such a cool gig, working on an Italian cruise ship but not having to resort to scrubbing pots or running around on stilettos, trying to please old, fat but wealthy passengers.

Sit tight; stories coming right up.