Lost in translation

March 23, 2010 § Leave a comment

Having grown up in an environment where feelings are commonly repressed and emotions are known to be stored in the deepest darkest corners never to be seen again, it’s safe to say that I’ve been well-trained in the art of non-communication. In the event that we do have to convey emotional information, it has to be done in an efficient and least confrontational manner so as to avoid unnecessary conflict at all costs. With so much effort, sometimes I just decide not to acknowledge these nasty feelings, go to sleep, and hope they go away.

Although this method has seen me through life for the past 3 decades, I never really considered it detrimental until now. With my well-known loathing of most people at work, I spend my 8-hour day actually trying to minimize contact with anyone in the event of which I would actually need to talk to them. This applies to talking to people in person, and talking to people on the phone. I haven’t quite decided which is worse. Sometimes I let the phone go to voicemail on purpose, and later reply by email if possible – this being my preferred method of communication, as it avoids having to talk to idiotic people (as per previous post) or waste time having long conversations on the phone.

My dislike of phone conversations also extends to my personal life. I do not chat with my girlfriends or even the companion on the phone. When we do not see each other in person, my mode of communication is text message, email, or MSN. Finally I’ve come to realize that what I now face is a bit of a communication problem. With all this work going into not talking to people, plus coming home to an empty apartment, I appear to be losing the ability to speak at all.


Ingrates are among us

March 18, 2010 § 2 Comments

Right this minute I would just like to sleep a very long sleep. The kind of sleep long enough to ensure that when I wake up, all the clueless and ungrateful people who make other peoples’ lives a living nightmare, have disappeared. Today I found another reason to hate my job. Stupid clients who have no understanding or appreciation of what we actually do and on top of all that have the audacity to insult us by trivializing our professional opinion. The consequence of this one stupid client’s comments has resulted in this. I kindly asked to be removed from this particular project. I kindly asked the receptionist never to put any calls through from this client ever again. I would kindly ask for someone to put a bullet through this woman’s head, but that would be illegal. The imagery makes me feel better already.

Return to sender

March 17, 2010 § 2 Comments

Today I received some mail which was not mine, but for someone who used to live here. Like all mail I fish out of the mailbox which is not addressed to me, I do one of the following:

1. Chuck it in the bin.
2. Open it and read it.
3. Write ‘return to sender’ and put it back in the post.

For obvious reasons, No.1 rates the highest, because I figure if a person cannot be bothered redirecting mail to their new address, then it cannot be all that important. Sometimes I do No.2 when it’s from an obscure association such as Women’s Lawn Bowl Club. I cannot help it, curiosity gets the better of me every time. I have only done No.3 on two occasions. One was during Christmastime when I kept receiving Christmas cards for someone else. Another was someone’s certificate which looked rather important. Of course I was tempted to chuck every one of them in the bin, but I figure, re-directing Christmas cards was my good deed for the year.

An ode to denim

March 16, 2010 § 2 Comments

Hi new pair of jeans. Thanks for finding me. I’ve been looking for you since, well, since I bought my last pair of new jeans. It’s been a while. I think it’s been 2 years, maybe more, I don’t even remember. It hasn’t been easy. I’ve searched high and low for you, going into every reputable shop that sells jeans, a wad of cash in my pocket to thrust into the hands of anyone who could present me the perfect pair. Yes, I know there are jeans galore in every corner of this city, but finding one for me is a difficult mission. It is akin to finding a needle in a haystack. Perhaps the colour isn’t quite right. The blue is too blue, the pockets look funny, or the cut emphasizes the part I want to de-emphasize. Eventually, my heart gives up hope of ever finding another pair, and I slip back into my faded grey ones, hoping that another day another time, I would have better luck. One day. Well, today was that day. The best part was, I hadn’t even been looking. Somehow something drew me into this shop, as I casually made my way towards Town Hall Station. I spent 5 minutes grabbing this pair, 10 minutes to decide my butt looked good in it, 2 minutes to shove money into the cash register. All done and dusted by the time peak hour was over. Awesome.

Are we there yet?

March 10, 2010 § Leave a comment

I am counting down. Technically I only have 7 more months to work for the company. Some legal commitment crap. It seems so near yet so far. Some days it is bearable. Most days it is unbearable. Today was another such day. Then I remember I’m committed for 7 more months. That is approximately 210 days. 210 days in the layers of hell which have been unpeeling slowly before my eyes. The layers of hell which lay in the guise of riches and security and responsibility but day by day eats away at my soul. In addition to the fact that I hate everyone and everyone hates me, the question is this. Will my sanity survive? Will it go to limbo and never come back? Tune back in 210 days.

Also, I am feeling in a quiet mood. A quiet but hungry mood. That’s ok because you can eat and be quiet at the same time.

Growing old gracefully

March 8, 2010 § 1 Comment

Some passing thoughts of a new old fart attending a music festival over the weekend.

– Why is everyone holding a red provisional driving license except me? Duh, because EVERYONE is, LIKE, um, 18.
– Is there a new fashion school only teenagers know about?
– I hate all your cloned haircuts. And those damn shorts.
– Why do all of you have ‘Carpe Diem’ tattooed on your bodies? Not qualified.
– Oh, they will definitely regret having ‘Catherine’ tattooed above their left nipple.
– Hey, limit yourself to your 2 serves of alcohol!
– Gee, everyone’s an idiot.

I am so not going to next year’s.

Update March 10: A couldn’t-have-said-it-better-myself review here.

Wrath has no time limit

March 2, 2010 § 2 Comments

The year was 1996 or 1997 I don’t quite remember. Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, where we freshlings straight out of high school started college. From the first week college began it was already obvious who were the winners, losers, sinners, weepers. Who were the popular, the sadly unpopular, the weirdos, and the ones everyone else talked about. CP was one of those girls everyone talked about. A few other girls in the class were from the same high school, and the gossip had already started. In the course of merely months she became the walking cliche who everybody whispered about. The one with the pleasant-looking face, the voluptuous figure, and of course, the big boobs who men loved and women loved to hate even more. The one with more beauty than brains but had a mouth that was quick enough to cover that up with fancy words of non-substance. She had a mean streak. Someone who pretended to be your friend and would smile in your face but spit on your back. Of course she got together with who was then the smartest guy in class. Years after, he probably realized what he was dealing with, and he left. Since, this has been heard through the grapevine, and through the grapevine only, none of which has been substantially proven or witnessed firsthand.

She had a torrid affair with a married senior lecturer. This may or may not have led to his dismissal.

She managed to bluff herself into a top firm, and slept her way to the top.

She escaped her third-world life and flew to London, where she miraculously landed a job with a world-famous architectural firm.

She didn’t stay very long, and soon ended up back in the old top firm, and being promoted to associate.

The above was all relayed to me last night. Angrily, by one of the girls who loved to hate this one. It has been 10 years since we all left that college campus. She simply did not understand how someone so clearly unsubstantial could achieve so much with so little. Sorry sister, life is unfair. Me? I really don’t give a fuck.

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