For the first time in many moons, I don’t feel like heading home just yet.
The sick feeling of seeing those jaded faces is well assaulting me.
Why am I even trying?
I have to learn how to manage my finances. Better.
I am so utterly shattered now, I can’t breathe.
No one’s gonna be able to help me. Let’s just hope I tide over.
2 changes proving that I’ve been gone for too long.
1. WordPress has changed their user interface. I feel like a dinosaur.
2. I’ve forgotten how it feels like to be typing furiously, purging myself clean of all my darkest thoughts.
If you were wondering.
1. I’m still on my PR job.
2. I still love clothes and shoes.
3. I’ve put on weight for the 2343455th time since I crawled out of my Mom.
4. I still hate that someone.
5. I’m still with the boyfriend.
6. I now am an avid fan of gossip girl.
7. I have taken a brand new interest/inclination towards point-formed writing.
Yes, despite the fact that I blew a lovely grand total of 300bucks on clothes (I’ve been holding back my spending power for a mega hit combo) and that I’m still effectively size 12-14 (new job made me binge), I am feeling pretty dandy this very moment. Prolly because I just had my third dose of caffeine albeit the fact that I’m on leave today. Why the hell do I need so much energy? Oh yeah. I’m not sure if I told you that I kicked the coffee-drinking habit a couple of months back? Now it’s back, the worst since GCE ‘A’ level torture time. Yeah. Sometimes I see coffee as my only vice, apart from shiny things that include diamonds, coins and that holographic strip on our Yusof Ishak-ed crisp notes, and you know how I love to damage myself. I always feel like the melancholic, dolorous one. Yes, I memorised my thesaurus results for the word “sad”.
Anyway. Back to my current state of life. I sound like I’m on crack, but I’m in Singapore and I have a boyfriend who has a rabbit, thanks to me. If you’re wondering (again), PONY is doing fine. He’s very, very mischevious. His actions spell “BOY”. Love it when he gives me the rebellious look; the same look that he sports everytime he pees in defiance.
Ok, apart from that, although I’m earning more, I’m saving less, if at all. I need to manage my finances better. I know, I’ve been saying that since I was a virgin. But, well. Don’t shoot me.
Okay. What else. Oh I bought lovely, lovely frocks today and last weekend. To your horror, I bought two gorgeous gorgeous skirts from a pushcart near my house. One’s with lace and one’s with frills. Tempted already? They’re a mere 26bucks each.
I hope I can pull my socks up at work. I’m feeling rather groggy these days. Lacking concentration. Any tips to curb that? Besides tobacco, prozac and lithium, of course. Maybe I should have attended Tony Robbins’ talk. Yeah, whatever.
Amidst all this hogwash about how my life is getting along, how I’m so happy and how my boyfriend is (still) very sweet (he got himself a new job. I can see the stark change in his smses. he’s conversing in perfect english now. did I tell you we’re gonna have our 4th year soon?), I have to say, I have no idea how some people can be so deluded and disfunctional. I can’t contemplate. This irks me, when I see liars sugar-coating their life in pink icing, making everyone think they’re successful when the poor taste and lack of ethics is so fucking apparent. I wonder what’s wrong with these earthlings. Maybe it’s the environment, the upbringing, the experiences. Obviously, I do not give a shit for all these excuses. It’s unfathomable how because someone is adamant and pure unreasonable, people just let them be. And choose to continue sticking with them. That’s the shocking part. People still stick with them.
Anyway, I just trimmed my hair for the second time in 2 months (that’s alot for me) and now it’s shoulder length short. My nails are long. And I’m going to Malacca in October.
That’s all.
I was among the first in my class to dabble with make-up. Before people could even spell lipgloss, I was already at mascara. And it’s funny how everyone else have caught up with me, while I lagged comfortable behind, content with my liquid eyeliner.
I’ve long wanted to try on falsies. But it’s a pity my natural curls fail on my lashes. I have stick straight, rebonded-like eyelashes that make me look like snuffleupagus because I have long lashes.
And I used to crimp them to death, pile on mascara, only to have them wilting towards the end of the day.
Well, I’ve been such a lazy make-up-er that my super-curling mascaras all expired past their glory, and have been tossed away. Then. Just now, I decided to try some on. Those online tutorials are getting to me quite a bit. Kinda, inspirational.
And I still had a relatively fresh tube of Fasio. I tell you. Fasio never fails you. NEVER.
So, solved. The only drawback from having falsies on is gone. I was always afraid that I would end up with the splitting lash look “<” where my real lashes go all separatist with the fake ones.
Ok, so after spilling some lash glue (which I bought when I had the falsies fever, without never came to fruition a few months back) and stuck on a pair I bought from Daiso.
Have I told you how much I love Daiso?
Okay, here’s what I got.
Not bad eh.
Well, a good alternative to agonising mascara pile-ups for those special occasions. I’ve had these lashes on for an hour and I think I could very well live with them.
Not bad, not bad, I’m suitably impressed.
Yeay, I’m no longer a laggard!
p/s. i know i shouldn’t be doing such teeny stuff at 24, but i can’t help it.
I’m having a quarter-life crisis, and it has resulted in the below consequence.
Taken at office with my webcam in low light conditions.
Just as a reminder, my hair was black like charcoal.
Channeling my inner-lian once again. Ohm.
Lots of people love it, including Sugar who has NEVER seen me in dyed hair since I stopped colouring my hair more than 4 years back when I was in college. Funny thing is, I had coloured hair throughout sec/jc where I lived in constant fear of getting caught my vicious unmarried female teachers. I know, I’m analll.
Very rarely do I end up in such situations. It never happens, especially when it comes to shoes, bags, clothes or never culminates into something as major as this when it comes to hairstyles, hair colours, insurance policies and boyfriends.
I pretty much always know what I want. “Follow your heart” is a very difficult thing to do. In my blog when I was much younger, I wrote about how it was impossible to “be myself” because essentially, I take on persona’s like a thespian. I assimilate myself into different environments, I speak differently to different people. Everyone says something different about me. Which is what I’m proud of. But that also means my life is a pretense. I think I studied too much of absurdist theatre. Literature ruined my life.
And so I was stranded. Well, that Marcom job cancelled on my because the “Country Manager could only make it next week and they didn’t want to pursue this further (fucking make up your mind). And after thinking about how the Marketing job could mutate into something I’d tried and ran away from previously in a fit of disgust, I have decided to take on Public Relations.
I have been warned. Long hours, crazy Clients, 24 hour call-back for crisis management. How much of me is prepared for the job, I don’t know. But thoughts of having to spruce up my wardrobe and start the whole advertising suit thing is quite exciting. I’d consulted with friends, colleagues, family. And somehow Family (Gary included) have told me to go ahead with the PR job. Maybe cuz they know me too well. Maybe cuz they know I was preventing myself from exploring that option because I feared that I’d neglect them in the process. And it was endearing, how they are supportive of my current career direction.
So after a divine lot from the Bugis Temple which pretty much just says everything will be fine anyway, stop worrying and coin tosses that said PR 3 times, I’m now pretty sure that. Know what, this is a calling. How I even got to the PR job sounds like an uncanny fairytale that seems predestined. I know. I’m getting into my anti-determinism state of mind again. Well, I’m a deep believer of chance, fate, destiny. And maybe I should just, leave myself to it this time.
So now, what should I tell the other company…
How about…
YOU SUCK?
I was stranded without options. Now I’m stranded within options.
Life works in a miraculous way that gives us all abundant reasons to slash wrists/engage in self-pity/murder someone. Murphy’s Law is like a devil’s wish. Ironic, estranging, frustrating.
And well, I tendered last Tuesday (happy weekaversary for my resignation) thinking I was going to get a job at an MNC in a comfortable Marcom position that I’d have died for.
I resigned, in ample anticipation, all warm with enthusiasm to receive news that I’d been deprived of this position because the company’s top management have begun on their drive to keep things lean and hold the hiring for the soon-vacant position.
And so, I was slumped into thick disgust and displeasure towards life last Wednesday. That was when all hell broke lose. Having only gone to 2 interviews by then, one for a local company (refer to below below below) and one for this MNC, I was despondent. The clock was ticking. My dad has stopped working. What do I do?
I guess my resignation pricked the hiring Director (who’d let me down) enough to push her to push me to her best friend, whose company was hiring. Went down for the interview which was in this godforsaken place (comparable to Sengkang) and thought it’d definitely be no go since the interview was only 15 minutes long and the Managing Director (that best friend) had this hard, scornful grimace that stuck to my head as I strolled out from that godforsaken place (I had taken a cab there), making tears well in my eyes. She did PR. But she definitely wasn’t PR-ing me. For a moment, I thought my life was finally going to be positive for a change. I was wrong. Terribly wrong.
I was “jobless” momentously, I felt feverish, and I started crying for real when I eventually gave up walking and decided to take a cab to the nearest MRT station which would have taken me 10 minutes I realised, but cost my 10 dollars because of irritating rush hour traffic along the stretch. While strolling out along the offbeat neighbourhood where 3 skanky women were trying to hail a cab to no avail, who doused themselves with so much perfume, they smelt like insect-repellent, with thick make-up, dominatrix gear and the I AM A SKANK look that was plastered on their face like a cheap mud-mask.
I found myself thrown into strange lands. But that was before I found a familiar looking yellow cab. I sat in, face crumpled together because 1. my life sucked and 2. the taxi driver had bad breath.
So a few days went pass in sombre until I received a call on Thursday telling me I’ve gotten the PR job after another lady called me to tell me about this Marcom position (yeay Marcom) and asked if I could meet later that day, since I rushed her like nobody’s business telling her I NEED TO RUSH. I NEED TO RUSH FOR AN ANSWER.
But I cancelled the appointment since I got the PR job. Reason being, I couldn’t wait. First round with her and the existing Marketing person, second round with the Country Manager, this mysterious persona that sounded like the ghost in the fog. Well, the lady warmly extended a re-sched and offered the next morning as a free slot. Ok la. I’m a very easy person. Just go, just go. Ya know. You never know what will happen to offers. Once bitten, twice shy. She agreed that the Country Manager will meet me immediately after our first interview to save my time. In the end, it didn’t happen, because I was late. Gave me a personality test I did before (thanks to my brother and I had such warped results, the booklet told me to retake the test. otherwise I was an edison/mozart. I rock.)
Ok. They called again today, 4 days after my interview on Friday and said they’d like to invite me over for a second interview as the Country Manager was on leave (i told you he was enigmatic) and would be back on Thursday. The lady was very empathetic about my situation even when I told her I had unofficially accepted the PR offer. Ok so, meeting them on Thursday. For the first time in my life, I knew how to ask people to “Give me an idea of when you would like to make the final decision as I am pending for you.” with such confidence and balls that it was invigorating.
So they promised to give me a response by Thursday. Frankly, I’d already made up my mind pretty much to go with the PR job even though I was still hanging confusion on my lips. But yesterday’s interview enlightened me regarding the first local company that I went for. The first interview was with Mr. Director 1. Good. Was shortlisted for second interview by Ms. GM. Ok, tough, but they called me back yesterday saying they needed to discuss my package. In the end it was a THIRD FREAKING INTERVIEW with Mr. Director 2. In total, they wasted 5 hours of my youth on their stupid interviews. And they wanted to offer me something LOWER than my current pay. EXCUSE ME. I see this as a downgrade? People only offer lower pay if they’re like. FMCG, MNC, because they have bargaining power and value. WHAT IS THIS CHING CHONG LOCAL COMPANY MAN.
Well, I’m going Bugis Temple to seek some divine intervention/enlightenment. Ohm.
Leave comments if you know how to HELP ME. HELPPP.
This comes with a sick sense of irony, because not too long ago, when the recession first hit Asia, my Boss actually told me a self-reflective piece for our corporate newsletter that says “Are we trying too hard?”.
While I try to struggle juggling Work, Dad, Mom and Boyfriend, somehow somewhere someone forgot that I’m only 1 single entity. And I’m not the sort who is always springing with life. Seriously, I’m competitive, but I’m always the sort who try to pitch wit over hardwork. It has worked very well during my school life, but at this current moment, with this onslaught of events all requiring my PHYSICAL attention, I cannot handle. I cannot cope. I’m telling you, I fucking want to die.
Because somehow somewhere, my Boss decided to forget that my Dad is still in hospital, and asked me why I’ve been so aloof these days. He asked me, what’s wrong? Excuse me, what’s NOT wrong? I’m getting SGD500 in wages for slogging my ass off and I get less than a Macdonald’s counter crew? Like hello? I thought my second upper honours degree would command a higher per hour wage than that? No?
Anyway, I fronted my response with “I’m just too tired.” Woah man, that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
I’m supposed to clean up the house today, and it’s 11.43am and nothing’s done yet except that I’ve cleaned my room THOROUGHLY. Yeah. My Mom decided to reprimand me for not having started vacuuming the house when my brother’s room is still in a mess (they’d gone our to grab some medicine) and her room is still not fully cleaned up yet. And so? Vacuuming is NOTHING to me. Do you think I’d be so lazy and stupid to not do it if everything was done and ready to go? I hate it when people doubt me. I fucking hate it.
But before that, my boyfriend had to tell me that I’m not putting enough effort because my house is still not cleaned up yet which means I’m going to go over his place late. I mean. I’m not putting enough effort?
Fuck man, am I trying to hard to make the world go round and continue spinning like nothing is happening at all?
You tell me that I’m not putting enough effort?
YOU TELL ME???
I’m just crying and crying and I just don’t know what to do at all. Why does everyone depend on me? Is it because I’m too nice, too conscientious, too giving?
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ALL OF YOU.
When I’m gone, you’d better pray your life doesn’t crumble.
Dear Gary,
I am shocked beyond belief. But I guessed my blog entry last night did prove my point.
While without it, I could have gotten a call in the morning with an apology thought it still exposes me to a repeat episode of the same issue, I got a call at 6.21am this morning, at first refusing to pick up the call trying to feign sleep, telling me something that very well justifies my blog entry last night further.
You asked me what I want.
You asked me why I insulted you.
You asked me why I insulted you in writing in a public domain.
You told me to take the entry down or forget it.
“It” being our relationship.
And I told you. “Then forget it.”
And that’s the end I guess.
When you look back in years, I hope you realised what you’ve done to me.
I’m so overwhelmed with pain now I don’t know what to say.
So. Hospitalised Dad, check. Pay delay, check. Boss who wants to slog me to death, check. Depressed Mom, check. Breakup with boyfriend, check.
Thanks for putting the icing on the cake.
And making me wake up crying.
Dear boyfriend,
I’m not giving you the capital-B anymore because I’ve decided to give the capital status to D. For Disappointment.
Despite the fact that I thronged you with smses from 9 o’clock onwards, whining about my ailing father, my fledging career, your niece’s hand-mouth-foot disease, I received no more than 0 replies from you.
I sincerely thought you were struck by lighting/electrocuted while reading notes off your laptop/drowned in your toilet bowl which was why you didn’t respond.
But your sms at 10.35pm was classic.
“Hais i’m having a lot of things in my mind and i don’t want to hear all that.”
That was when I realised I had made the BIGGEST mistake of my life by apologising the last time I troubled you with work-related meme during your examination period.
You know what? I’m not going to try to be Miss Nice anymore.
My desperate pleas for consolation and empathy was reciprocated with dry indifference. That one person I thought I could share all my worries/burden/troubles with has told me that he was so burnt out by his exams, that he had no time and effort to care about how I felt or the attention I needed.
That one person I left my Mom alone for the weekend for to spend some quality time with has told me that, no. I’m too busy to fucking care about your shit.
Sounds like poetry doesn’t it.
I’m no longer going to care about whether your Dad has 1000 papayas and watermelons and bananas and injure his feet and get his legs amputated on top of my very own paternal problem that involves a 51 year old recalcitrant patient with a serious case of lung infection.
I’ve had family friends who’ve had their legs amputated due to diabetic implications. I’m not cursing you. But the way my life has unfolded these 3 fucking years has thought me that it never rains but it fucking pours.
I’m no longer going to care if your niece never ever grows out her front teeth, even if she ends up looking like a witch, or spoils her eyesight by watching TV in the dark thanks to your parent’s habit, ending up with clumsy-looking spectacles that will scar her childhood forever. I’ve been there. Done that. And too bad if your niece ends up fucked up like me. At least, you know what? I can snigger and say I TOLD YOU SO.
I’m sorry to say that but you’re not the only one on earth who’s taken exams. If your mental capacity proves to make your study life such a struggle, I’m not sure if you can interpret from whatever I’ve written that I’m fucking pissed off, disappointed and distrustful of your tenacity and credibility as a boyfriend/potential life partner.
I’m no longer certain that I can live with an apathetic person like you who’s wound up in his own world like my boss and decides to engage in some very convenient but self-destructive escapism and further your delusional behaviour by simply filtering away things you don’t wish to hear.
I can imagine. The next time some calamity strikes my family for the 2346309237055th time, and you happen to have a major project at work (if we last that long), you would tell me, “Sorry Bitch. I’m packed man. Fucking sort it out yourself.”
After 3 years, I would have thought I could at least be a little more important that exam revision.
Because you’re as important as my parents are to me. And my parents are the most important people in my life. I’m sorry if we didn’t coordinate such equitable priority-setting for these thousand over days we’ve spent being a couple.
Even if we cease to be a couple from this moment on, I am genuinely worried about your inability to multi-task and handle stress. My current job has made me jaded as hell. And is the ultimate boot camp for stress management/strenuous hours/repetitive emotional trauma.
Maybe that’s why to me, all this is chicken feed.
I found out today that my Dad has been given 9 vials of intravenous antibiotic drips for his IV therapy EVERYDAY for the past week. And my pay is delayed for the 3rd month and counting, my Mom weeps by my bedside. My Brother just bought an Xbox.
I pronounce myself pretty sane and strong despite the onslaught of negativity in my life. And for you, who could simply reply with a placid “Aw, poor thing Baby.” or “You have to be strong.”, you not only decided to NOT REPLY ME, you went on further to tell me to NOT GIVE YOU THIS SHIT because you’re having your final exams.
You know what? Why not concentrate on your studies? Let’s call it quits. I know Britney Spears filed for divorce over her mobile phone. I am breaking up with you with a blog entry.
I know, I’ve always been a tech-savvy person.
And to the person who GAVE UP while trying to find out what was wrong with my laptop some time back who happens to ironically be taking his final exams for his INFORMATION TECHNOLOGY degree, let’s just hope your next girlfriend lives on a bed of roses.
And with your next girlfriend, please remember to check your schedule and inform her in advance when her family members are allowed to fall sick, when she’s allowed to have her period/mood swings and when to let fatigue and desperation get the better of her. Please remember to send everyone an email invitation, and reminder 2 days in advance.
Till then, I quit. First you. Then maybe my job.
You’re so ugly and I’m not even referring to your teeth.
The situation here is getting pretty tough. And with what seems to be an exasperating new leash of hope come end this week, I have no idea what to do.
This stagnation is very worrying. And what seems to be an impending bout of effort required and responsibilities worries me just as much. It prolly will be better for my mental, financial and physical health, but I am lost.
I just don’t want to be slapped with challenges that I find beyond my means to handle. I hate that feeling.
And I hate begging people for things. So. I’m not sure. Really.
Guess we’ll just have to see.
