It's 12.41am, and I'm still in the office. The budget was tabled today, which meant more work for us. There's only two other colleagues in the office with me now. On normal days, I would be tired, frustrated, itching to go home. But today is no normal day.

Today is my last day in The Star as a news journalist.

Yes, I resigned. Packed in the bags, threw in the towel. I hate using those words, but I guess that's what it is.

Most people said putting in the letter would be a liberating experience. Like Mel Gibson screamed, "Freeeeddooomm!!". Some likened it to the last day of exams in school, like the day a prisoner is finally allowed to clean out his cell and walk out into the world outside.  It would be alright. Just be impersonal and cold about it, and you'll be alright.

Riiiight. Of all the emotions I had when I handed in my letter to my Klang boss, I never counted on this: sorrow. I gave it in, barely said a word, walked out of the office, into my car parked outside, and did something I rarely ever do: I cried. Hard. For around 20 minutes.

Why? Because I know, when I look back at my Star journey 20 years from now, I will look back at a chunk-ful of memories that I will cherish.  Moments that are all at once so beautiful, so hilarious, so momentous, that I will be proud to tell my grandchildren about them over and over again. Moments such as:

seeing Jaclyn Victor become the first Malaysian Idol at the Arena of Stars, and then getting to attend the press conference later..with G and Y posing as reporters.

being in PWTC when Barisan Nasional won the elections, and watching our Prime Minister Datuk Seri Abdullah Ahmad Badawi pray to Allah with such fervency, I almost wanted to become a Muslim there and then.

walking around Port Klang interviewing people when the haze situation had registered a 'hazardous' level..in Port Klang.

running around frantically chasing politicians to get a one-sentence comment after the MCA elections.

talking with 4-year-old golfers, 12-year-old piano prodigies, 17-year-old girls who seduced friends to kill their stepfather, 25-year-old internationally-renowned violinists, 50-year-old blind motivational speakers, 70-year-old handphone users.

laughing 'til my side ached when minister Lim Keng Yaik said the word 'sai' at least 4 times in a conference..with the British Water Minister in attendance.

blushing red with anger when minister Lim Keng Yaik chides me in the pc after because I asked a 'stupid' question.

smiling in vindication when minister Samy Vellu brushes me aside for asking if our highways are structurally safe..and then seeing a highway collapse six months later.

coming face-to-face with rapists, murderers, molesters, snatch-thieves, corrupt cops, bribers and cheats during my two month duty in courts.

cancelling my dinner appointment with so-and-so because I just HAD to finish my story by 9pm, no questions asked..and looking beside me at two other colleagues who did the same.

working on New Years Eve, Chinese New Year, Labour Day, Easter, the Sultan's birthday and any other public holiday.

attending national Deepavali, Gawai-Dayaks, Hari Raya, CNY and Christmas open houses.

asking a father who had just lost his wife to leaukemia the most inane but necessary question in the world: "How do you feel?"

calling an IRB director at his home on a Sunday by looking his number up on the Yellow Pages.

lying my way to get an association to tell me they did not agree with a health law.

walking around Mid Valley trying to talk to people about Negaraku, and almost getting thrown out by the security guards.

receiving free cups, pens, bookmarks, journals, Pewter ornaments, caps, T-shirts, dairy products and pharmacy vouchers during assignments.

But most of all,

talking about breasts with Parveen, wrestling with Eng Hock, God with Cheng Yee, old school mates with Royce, work with Olivia, passion with Ewe Jin, female smokers with Joel and my dirty habit of flicking my hair behind my ear with Meng Yee.

I read that again and again, and 'sad' would be an understatement.  I'm scared too - I mean, leave my 4 month bonuses and huge transport allowances and great overtime pay?

Which then, as I read all those moments again, I have to ask: why quit?

The official reason is because I don't see myself as a journalist down the road.  I look at the commitment and, for lack of a better word, love some seniors have for their jobs (for some, a little too much commitment), and I want that. I want to wake up every morning rushing to see my byline, gnashing my teeth when NST gets a better story, dying to get the next big story that changes the nation and the nations beyond. But I don't. At least, not enough to last me 'til the end.

But as much as I am terrified by the future, I am also excited. There is adventure in the air, and I can smell it. It is the road less travelled, and as G would tell you, there is no glory in taking it, only the spilling of your guts. I long to explore, to find out what doors can open, what faith can lead me to.  It's as if Someone has nudged me over the edge of a cliff, and whispers to me, "Enjoy the ride. You only live once. Might as well live it with courage to follow your heart."

Already, I am seeing incredible gifts suddenly discovered on my porch. Astro has offered me a part-time TV host job, while there are freelance writing opportunities that are slowly coming. Yet, nothing is really confirmed. Only time will tell if I end up a full-time employee somewhere or a gainfully unemployed bum.

I am so scared, guys. My heart is pounding.

Yet, I am so excited. My heart is pounding.

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs.  Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that, because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” - Gil Bailie

A paradox hoping to discover a Life worth living,

j

ps. G and Y, your turn. :)