Two days, maybe.
Two days, maybe.
I wonder if is it really a good idea to start work after graduation.
What is that about the hoo-hah of our local graduates not securing employment upon their departure from the realm of thick textbooks, boring lectures and tiring assignments? I am somewhat convinced that that issue has been blown out of proportion.
I was reading an ex-coursemate’s online jottings of her two-month trip around Europe. I reckon it qualifies as something valuable that can be passed along to generations to come.
“I went hiking across the Himalayas and witnessed this rare white goat giving birth on the mountains, and…”
“Ooooh…” Cue gasps and sighs from the grandchildren. “I wish I was there!”
“Oh yes. And I inadvertently appeared in a scene of Matrix: Resurrected when they were shooting on location there as well!”
But nothing beats it. Experience.
There are so many things to see, hear, and learn from around the world. Beautiful landmarks of note, friendly people, extremely blue skies. Soak up in foreign culture. Laugh at yourself for not knowing a word of Russian. Collect postcards from all around the world. Eat the weirdest things on the planet. Get life-long experiences.
Why did I ever think of strapping myself into a seat in front of a monitor, surrounded by the constant ringing of phones and shuffling of paperwork, and cooped up in an office where the daily temperature takes a dip to at least 15 degrees Celcius?
It makes me feel like I am missing out on a big chunk of life.
Sure, I am getting work experience now. But how much of an impact is that going to make when it comes to life in general?
Money, you say. Anyway, that is besides the point. Grin.
My life revolves around mediocrity these days. There is nothing memorable worth remembering; nothing that warrants so much of a scribbling in a diary. In fact, I am as average a person you can get. Stuck in traffic jams everyday. Rain. Shine. Not having been in a romantic relationship before. View. Print. Facing the same four walls. Five. Six. It goes on.
Besides, I cannot be on planes for a long period of time. Just thinking about it makes me nauseous. I know, I know: it is all in the head.
(Yep, Strizzt is that uncool.)
Geez, the local blogging world is getting funnier day by day. I really do not know if I should laugh at its hilarity, or at the hopelessness of it all. I think I am going to dedicate a long entry to it over the weekend.
Two days, consecutively. I was like, “Not again…”
It was terrible! Terrible! But driving really fast behind the ambulance was fantastic! (?)
That quote came to mind when I was stuck in another one of those infamous daily crawls while heading home after work.
Sirens from afar, and the all-tell lights of blue and red spinning round and round atop the approaching vehicle.
Oh dear. I felt a mild adrenaline rush. Make way, make way.
It was amazing though, to see how the cars slowly inched off towards the sides, leaving a clear path for the ambulance to squeeze through. It was something akin to a Domino effect: one by one, cars of all sizes and makes were attempting to utilise space still available, to the best of their ability.
And then it comes…
... and passes by.
Like a vicious shark snaking through the waves, leaving behind a V-trail of sorts.
And then it was back to as it was before.
On another note: kljda;lsf#&$#$#kjslk (I am not supposed to be talking about my workplace again! But it does not take a rocket scientist to figure out that things are hardly going to be all right when two of your bosses leave one after another, leaving a one-man-show that will be who else, but yours truly.)
On air now: Failure, Kings of Convenience
Did she seem like before?
Did she seem like before?
I cannot believe I have a memory span of a goldfish.
Okay, not really. But there are times when I thought I could really sink that low and turn into one, swimming round and round the fishbowl that has only a miniature windmill and a few scattered coloured stones for company.
You see, sometimes I think of going to certain websites while I am immersed in my reading (of blogs, usually). URLs just pop to mind, suddenly.
So I proceed to open a new browser window…
And promptly forget what I am supposed to do with it.
“Damn, why did I open this window for?!”
For the record, however, I am sure my memory is not really that bad. I believe I am still pretty much alert about the going-ons in my life: I know all the important dates, turn up for scheduled appointments in time, and perform most of the tasks I had planned beforehand.
In other words, I do not live within a foggy world of my own. Very rarely will I curse myself for having left my brain at home.
I usually trim my nails during the weekend. So it was with much horror when I looked at my fingers today, and realised something was a bit… off. Then I put both hands on the table, side by side, and look at them. Hard.
Turns out that I had somehow forgotten to trim the fingernails to my right hand this time around. Sigh.
Actually, I do not think ‘forgotten’ is exactly the right word. Rather, I had been doing things so unconsciously, I had that overlooked.
It either means I am becoming less alert because, apparently, seven hours of sleep a day is not enough for me – or that lately, I have way, way too many things to think about.
(By the way, that was only a matter of expression – the saying about goldfish having a memory span of three seconds is not entirely true.)
On air now: Sky Starts Falling, Doves
Twenty questions, part two.
Twenty questions, part two.
It looks like a beautiful day today. You know the drill: clear blue skies, birds chirping merrily, greens looking even more green than ever, if it were possible.
I know this is embarassing, but I sorely need to stop talking about work.
I wonder if I should start getting people to throw me random blog topics before I get myself dooced. You can also, however, choose to give me a sound knocking on the head whenever I tread anywhere within the lines of complaining about my job, again.
In any case, it has been nearly four years and this is still up and running (sort of, anyway…), having clocked in almost 43,000 visitors (I think I make half of that) since then. This modest website clocks in an average of twenty to thirty visitors daily. I know a lot of people who have stopped coming here, and those who still drop by here every now and then. A majority though, got here through the almighty Google when they attempt to find out why their left eyelid twitches.
So this is another round of doing the drumrolls and getting to know who reads this.
No, this is not about keeping track. This is about getting to know you.
Please say hi, if you are reading this. Or you can choose to dance a little jig. This is also the chance for you to lodge a formal complaint on just about anything involving Rantglass, and me – do I write like an annoying little brat who gets on your nerves occasionally? Where is the proposed skies.insatiably.net? Why do I have to be so damn vague?
Questions, questions. Answers there may be not. I would not be pumping my fists in the air, jumping onto couches a la Tom Cruise just to justify why I am still doing this.
Bear in mind that I am not an 8ball, or a walking encyclopedia.
I just thought it would be wise to do this, in view of the Aggressive Big Change (ABC) scheduled at the end of the month. You never know what might happen then. I could just accidently, er, wipe everything clean here.
(Do not let your mind wander that far!)
And if you are still looking for a place on the net to host your website, just ask. I have plenty of space here. I reserve the right to dip your applications into my hot cup of coffee and make them vanish into nothingness, though. This is what I get after having to wait in vain for job interviews and sit around impatiently while waiting for the results.
Honestly though: could you still see me writing here for another six years, and eventually celebrating the tenth anniversary of Rantglass?
How long will I be here, I wonder.
That also results in another question: how long will you be here? But you do not need to answer that.
We shall keep it a secret: between you and me.
One month plus already, at the workplace. Seven weeks, actually. I still harbour thoughts of walking away – I just cannot stop thinking about it. It comes to mind every single day, I wonder if I should begin treating it as an extended internship of sorts – one without a definite date of completion, unfortunately.
There are the good days where I will go, “Hmm, things are not that bad here after all.” Self-satisfaction of seeing your work getting favourable feedback from others. Being ahead of everyone else in the country when it comes to news. There will undoubtedly be a lot of things to learn, and valuable experience to gain.
Then there are the days where you wish that things could be better. Having to fulfil random requests from Mr. Intimidator, who loves barking at every single person in the workplace. Heavier responsibilities are imminent; ones that are a bit too risky for my doing. Going nowhere in the socialising department. “I want to leave. Now. Argh.”
Plus, the fact that I am currently being under-utilised makes me feel more unworthy. Maybe later, the tasks will start rolling in and I will be drowned in it anyway. But now, I sit at my desk and wait for the shorter hand of the clock to get to seven.
I still scour the recruitment pages daily. I think it has become somewhat a habit of mine. A good or a bad one, I know not which.
“There goes the weekend again…”
One thing for sure: once you have a job, the weekend seems too short. It does not seem enough. I love holidays, but what fun is there left when you might be called back to work on a public holiday – and without extra pay whatsoever?
I feel so shortchanged sometimes. Or am I just being a bit too calculative for my own good? And having everyone trample over me because I am a newbie and absolutely bully-able?
(Yes, I am so nice a person, I know no one will take me seriously if I become a boss one day. Ahem.)
In other news: being on broadband is such a breeze. Fvroooooom! That means I will be planning a massive upgrade of sorts. MovableType? Wordpress? Nucleus? Textpattern? Anyone?
Damn it, no H2G2 at thecinemanearmyhouse. Gah.
On air now: One of Those Days, Doves