Fly or Die?

fly or die

Friday, August 27, 2004
Heng, Today, I watch you pack your years in this agency into 5 A4 Double A boxes. The naked lady hourglass I gave you two years ago for your birthday went into that one, the one with the dented corners. You put her away last. The last thing you took from you now empty desk. I will miss seeing her on top of your Mac. My muse, you used to say. And I'd say, I thought I was. To which, you never bothered to reply. Remember when we worked on Project KickAss - that was some thing! Sleep did not touch our eyes for 2 days. I was on a permanent caffeine high. But you, you were steady as always. Did you even yawn? But boy, did we cut it. On some quiet nights, I still hear the clients' applause after the presentation. That project sealed you and I as a team. Dizzy, trigger-mouth me and you, Mr. Talk To the Hand and the winner of stare downs anytime. Since the drama with Account Servicing, you have lost a bit of your intensity. You fight less. You let Account Servicing get away with blue murder. You go home early. You seem to want to care less but I see the struggle at the core of your being. Because Heng, you do care. You love your work, though one would never decipher it from your stone cold features and flat voice. But I know. I've watched you swell just so slightly, imperceptible to most, when we talk about your pet campaigns. I know that little upturn of your lips, when you hit the sweet spot, when you have nailed the strategy and locked horns with a winning concept. Though you don't say many words, Heng, I've read you. The outburst has left you - oh how I hate the word - disillusioned. It is certainly not the first nor only time you've had Account Servicing by the throat, but I guess it was the proverbial straw. Yet at the same time Heng, you've seen it all in the industry. How you have managed to keep your passion undefiled for so long is a lesson I need to learn. To keep giving your best even when everyone tells you that this low budget product of equally low-life client is a shitty job. 'Close one eye and get it over with' is the sad mantra of creatives. But not you, Heng. It kills you. I see life slowly ebbing from you. I hate to see you succumb to the system. I think you hate it more. Which is why today is what it is. You, go kick some serious ass in your new place. I will be watching you through the naked lady. Thank you, Heng, you've been the painting to my thousands of words. Pencil chewed at 6:41:00 pm //
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