one week in February

Now that I am finally home and rather work-free for the remains of the night, I find myself awake from the over-zealous amounts of caffeine I have ingested unwarily - through teh c peng (siu dai) and Panadol Extra.


I am exhausted. It is Friday as I speak but I have little of a weekend to look forward to because I will have to wake early anyway (unless I somehow really cannot make it already), and I have work to do on both Saturday and Sunday. I am only glad that I need not have to go to Pasir Ris on weekdays next week because that school is having their CA1, so I can take a break and concentrate on my other projects and portfolios at work.


I still give tuition to my secondary school kids even though I am way past the undergraduate phase, because of a couple of reasons: firstly I need some extra pocket money, less so now, but it is still life-saving as I am still a poor semi-entrepreneur. Secondly I want to carry my kids till they graduate: two of them are taking their O levels this year, and the third is doing hers next year, so though I can do without, I am committed to them by some integrity. For these reasons I definitely spend my Saturday mornings, Sunday afternoons and evenings, with these students.


It is only February, but I really already need a holiday, just like some lifeless wimp. So Calvin says the AUD is going down by the end of this year, back to luxurious 1.0+++ rates like those of 2002. Lovely. Perhaps an Aussie holiday for me this year-end. In the meantime, a quick check at the bank account and schedule, -


I think I will probably just be glum and type away here.


Some friends will say, perhaps a beer. But I can't, now, with the Panadol in me still. I drank two glasses of tao huay zhui instead. Hence you can see I have little to destress with and, in fact:


much to destress about -


Apart from having been busy and tired everyday, waning away are also my patience, sense of self-efficacy - what efficacy? - and general happy feelings. I am only happy for a few things: seeing my folks at work makes me happy, and when I play worship songs on the guitar, that is when I cannot help but smile. There are few other genuine instances.


My job is bigger than me by a thousand times, I feel rather not-so-good. They say, find one thing you do well, and do it. I am not that great at management, nor art, nor teaching. In fact for that matter, I do not really know what I am marvellous at. I am one of those people who currently are 'good' at everything but not great at anything.


I think if you made me just sit down and do recruitment for a large company, I will do it well - I am great at drafting selection criteria, doing interviews, find the right folks through my network. But I am not (no longer) in recruitment; recruitment is just one of the many things I have to do, and it is rewarding now only because we get to work with these people. Plus because I thrive on performance appraisals, feedback and substantiated affirmation, whatever I do now is only a trifle confidence-building, save for the results we reap from whatever I might have done meagrely well, because, there are simply no one-ups or two-ups and the like, to give me my 360 performance appraisals, or teams by which bosses will affirm you in front of, and all that snazzy MNC stuff. Only relationships - they are what keep me going, to see my work carry someone else's burden, or inspire and enlighten, or to make them feel self-fulfilled and nearer to their destiny-fulfilment. I find myself constantly small in comparison to my job(s) otherwise. Reaching the end of my twenties and I am still here.


I wonder what my mom was like when she was my age. I was born when she was 27 just like I will be this year. I am sure she had it harder than me at this time of her life, because of family, work, survival, and likely because of a lack of a divine relationship with God. Today, she is still vulnerable, but incredibly wiser, and less critical and impatient, I think, though because we live apart I may not be entirely objective about this. But I think my parents at this age were really passionate go-getters, meaning impulsive, hard-knocked survivors who may reach the brink, yet still maintain their foothold on whatever that remains, and clamber out to safer ground. When will I be wise enough for my age?


There are years of my life that I no longer remember. Every day seemed the same, numb, and I did things without much emotion and thoughts to remembrance. I am not entirely sure why that was so. Much cause of my explanation, would be that it was due to my depression. I hardly even remember how long I was ill for, or which year it was now. I sometimes worry I might relapse if I make the same emotional mis-management mistakes, or do not grow up with my coping skills to fit the challenges of a late-twentier.


About leisure: I have not been reading except for trashy female mags - Her World, Elle, Style. In fact, after I have browsed the trends and gained some fashion-art inspiration, I have come back to the end of it and I am still bored. Little stimulus to sleep, little stimulus to wake up to.


Not any activity now that is within my doing reach, is able to make me feel much glee, The glee curve is probably at its lowest of the week right now, not that I have completely ignored the downward trend, I have been contrarian about it and have kept introspecting during these days of the week to contain it all and get up to 'whee!' like a Ribena berry eventually. Meanwhile, there is really nothing that I feel like doing very much, excitedly at that, even Breakinasia sounds so far away when it is actually this Saturday night. If not for Calvin, Kelvin and Daphne I think it wouldn't even stir me.


And so I write here as usual, writing to communicate, for you to read, for me to map my thoughts into your perception. Read me long enough and you would probably think my blog is a whore-house of cleverly packaged insecure thoughts, entertaining, and worrisome at times. I guess I don't mind the publicity. I keep myself close to you, while remaining my distance that I cannot help - Syl says I am distant, I forgot that I really am, and I am not sure why. Cal the Geek will say, it is probably because I am an alien, or some mutant monster!


Tell me if you enjoyed this post, not just because I mentioned my insecure motivation by affirmation, but because if you like it, I will write more, and bring my distance into obscurity. I cannot write for a living, once again, good but not great, but I am motivated by my relationships, that reward and fulfill me much while I am on this earth, and functional at that. I don't want to let you go.