Shh…this is between us. Nudge me if my boss’s coming. It kind of keeps me happy at work. Happiness is my company’s motto, anyway.
Posts Tagged With: work
Dear Work and Life (no, it isn’t in order of priority or importance or trouble),
How are you? I’m not good as you may see. No, you didn’t ask but thanks anyway. I need to tell you something.
I almost cannot bear it anymore. I. NEED. SOME. TIME. OFF!!
Professional I always want to be.
But what does ‘professional’ mean exactly?
Recently, I find myself not so professional. I mean in term of business. I’ve got my job, a professional career (it’s meant to be professional, not that I have to be, though). However, it’s not that professional in my definition. It’s more materialism, more objective. When it comes to professional, I think of business people; economics, medical field, politics, and every field which needs competent and liable appearance. These people will walk in the outside world with such self-assertive confidence which I never have. Sometimes they almost feel they’re condescending.
As I hadn’t studied in those fields (I didn’t regret it. OK, maybe just a little), I happen to think if that has influenced what I become today. Of course, it is. If I had studied Accounting like my mother and big sister, I would definitely not have learnt the art of being impecunious independence as I am today. Or if I had studied Law as my mother had hopefully suggested, I would have been more eloquent. Or if I had studied Engineering as peer general trend at the time, I would have known how to have my inconsiderate laptop work. However, there were reasons why I did not take those courses.
The first reason happened since I was the sixth grader.
Can you believe that these symbolic significance of numeral and unidentified alphanumeric codes are for sixth graders? They are only eleven. I was only eleven! I was busy trying to survive peer pressure and learn how to live than comprehend these numerical force. And as if that’s not enough, look at the answer, 2+1=3!? Great, I learnt that in kindergarten, using my fingers and toes and friends’ head. What the necessity of complicating things? No wonder why I hated mathematics and algebra and could not force myself to learn it in university.
Note: I used to be like this in Physics class in high school, except that the teacher wrote ‘R.I.P.’ back on the paper with a meekly huge red zero under it.
Another rationale was the most overwhelming. It happened when I was senior in high school.
Can you imagine ‘things’ which are able to silence all twenty of the most boisterous and hyperactive teenage girls (I was in private girls’ school)? It was when the school held a tour to a medical institute in order to let us see what a medical student has to learn and inspire us. The consequence was counterproductive, at least for me. I saw all the horror for a life time in one particular day. There were unborn children (and never been born, unfortunately) arranged in every week of ages for us to see the development. I decided to leave it to the mother in duty. There were also bodies which each had been exhibited all the muscle tissues, both smooth and skeletal, internal organs, bits of skeletons, blood vessels, arteries, every part of brain (cut into pieces to see what inside was), every part of heart (same as brain), and every core and detail of human organism. There were human bodies with diseases. There was even a body which was not a body, but the literally practical nerves in a body been meticulously peeled out and injected the colors to see all the threads thoroughly. It was as if every eye and brain and cell were intensely staring at you, as if thousands of tiny needles were prickling your nerves. I appreciated the painstaking detail, though.
I felt as if my remained childhood innocence had been cruelly harassed when we entered the ‘objects’ section. It was worse than looking at those soulless bodies and none-bodies. It was the pain of memories they represented. The pain of how inhuman human was capable of doing to each other. The pain of innocence such as the little boy who had hidden in a large jar when there was fire. The jar was there, carrying the memory of the boy. And there was the real serial killer’s body over eight or nine decades ago. He had been small. Even though his body shrank from the process of stuffing, I could see he had not been a big man. How could he chop people alive and eat their guts?
When I got out of the heartbreaking building to the world of the living, the unsettling reminiscence was still knocking in the back of my head. I saw people as the merely containers of souls and cells, cutting the right nerve or vessel in their brains and they were gone for good, once and for all. I have NEVER thought of learning to be a doctor again.
That’s so overwhelming. Although I liked Biology, I found the plants’ cells were much more lovable than human and animals’ organs. And although I did well in Chemistry and was the creme de la creme in my class, I hated it. So what’s left? Ahh, art and languages, my inner supports! After those tragic catastrophe, what would soothe me best except a good piece of literature or a gentle art work or even a tinkling music? It reminds us how beautiful people’s minds still are. It reminds us human is not slicing other people all the time. Still, art and those medical investigation relate somehow. I cannot help wondering that doctors might be good artists, considering they know all the detail of bodies like that 😛
However, if I chose another way of life or another more professional way, I would not be the person I am today. I might have learnt to be a successful person, even a billionaire, but not a happy person. A busy bee I might have been but I also might have ended up finding no peace and committing kind of suicide by relentlessly banging my head on the wall with mind-numbing boredom eventually. That’s not good for me and people around me, so I guess what comes out now is already the best solution; being obscure and frivolous, doing things of my own volition, staying low-profile and languid, facing psychological breakdown sometimes. Isn’t that good enough?
On many social network sites, every Monday, there’s at least five people out of ten ‘speaking’ something about being on Monday. Something as ‘Gosh, MONDAY again!’, ‘F*ck the traffic!’, ‘Monday again? I swear it’s just passed!’, etc. And every Friday everyone will be freak out with ecstasy. The atmosphere will be changed into ‘Awwwww, FRIDAY!!!’, ‘Where’re you going tonight, babe!?’, ‘Let’s hang out!’, etc OMG. It seems that week day is tragically transformed into fangful, snarling monster ready to bite your head off with one snap. Well, it may be….
Anyway, I don’t want to be one of those people who piss out on Monday and embrace Friday. It would be so inconsolable because week day is the most part of your life. And if you’re just overwhelmed by the sense of aversion to it and feel as if you’re enduring the considerable time of your life, your lifetime will be definitely shorter and shorter. How could you survive to the next ten years with this misery? Therefore, I decide to decrease the gap of difference between week day and weekend by making my weekend to be like week day; suffering alike or more.
1. Surround myself with the most ignorant and dagger-eyed people in downtown with no place to really rest.
This way, you will feel exhausted, vulnerable, and melancholy that you almost scream out with relief when you get back to your dark and cold house. In this frantic downtown, people will rush to and fro around you all the time even though the languid sunlight are shining soothingly. And if you’re already worn out from being incessantly attacked by passersby, you have to look for a place to rest carefully. Of course, there’re coffee shop, restaurants, or even benches on the foot path. But if you’re not careful, you may find that a little cup of rich coffee you’re blowing costs your approximate daily wage. And if you’re not definitely careful, your bank account may be bit off a large chunk. My friends had gone to a lovely restaurant on some relaxing day and got out with a panic look and a bill cost nearly half of her salary… No relax at all that day. Then, the benches sounds good, but you sure don’t want to sit there so long with the ignorant but observant eyes of passersby. The places where you can really rest without any concern of looks and money are those international cholesterol and heart attack sellers; MacSomething and KenSomething – you name it. But with the bunch of those little figures resembling the people outside with the tendency of more hectic personality?…… Well, make your choice…
2. Surround myself with unpredictable, moody, changeable like weather in tropical forest, and pessimistic family.
You will certainly not be able to concentrate on anything. They will not let any minute waste without complaint. There must be at least one thing that someone thinks it should be better or it shouldn’t be there. Also, someone must not be satisfied with at least one thing of what you’ve done. And believe me, that causes particularly stress-related mind problems. You will be overwhelmed by misery and strain that you may need to knock your head with the poor walls. It’s the cons of being with many family members but at least you’ll never feel lonely.
3. Surround myself with occasionally energetic people.
These people, such as your usually lethargic family, are not always energetic. But when they are, nothing can prevent them to do whatever comes across their minds at the time. They truly believe that such activity they’re going to do (and drag you to do, too) is helping freshen up your dark life, which may be true if they’re not taking it too serious and dragging me out of my warm and comfortable bed at an ungodly hour…without warning…
4. Renovate and redecorate your room so that you’ll not have any privacy and energy left.
It’s time to get things done. The rooms that need to be renovate five years ago. The point is that you need to do it All at once. Painting the walls of every bedrooms at once will safe a lot of time. And this way, you’ll have no room to dwell for a while. Many people will be walking in and out of your private room and see what you have possessed. No action blood-splattered films, no slightly pornographic Youtube, no sitting around without doing anything or the people walk by will give you a questioning frown. You also have to push, pull, and drag furniture, changing the room’s atmosphere, and end up put everything back in their original positions because it’s the most versatility in the first instance. Then, you’ll have no energy left to do anything contentedly.
There, now, weekend is your shelter of real life no more. If you follow these simple processes, you’ll definitely embrace Monday. It’ll not be your purgatory and not give you a persecution complex anymore. Well, at least, when you come back to work, you’ll be able to make peace with yourself and you’ll thank everything to be there.
Such an attractively tranquil state!
You can damn insult yourself, but do not dare plant that thought to anyone else.
“I know you despise me!”
That’s the sentence I have just heard today. The speaker was infuriated and incandescent with rage at another people – totally stranger although they’re neighbors – because of a little car accident. She did not stop complaining for ten minutes. I still heard her hysterical voice even I was in my room, urg. I could see that the stranger was totally confused that she was assailed by this unpleasant imprecations. How can you know that a stranger despise you? How can you know that someone hate you despite the fact that you both never talk to each other?
Not only this person, my colleague also met a maid who thought that other people had an utter contempt for her, so she treated my colleague slightly under etiquette of social awareness. What’s wrong with human nowadays?
How can you live if you think that everyone in the world hate you or look down on you? The maid thought that my colleague looked down on her because she earned the living by mopping floors. Since when cleaning is considered to be in lower hierarchy? What? About 70 years ago? Or in colonial period, when there had been that sickening slavery? Of course, there are kings, queens, leaders, presidents, those hierarchical standings and so-called social classes, but do you need to wear it on yourself, put it on your sleeve? Why don’t you get your status crown upon your inane head? To tell people how miserable you are so that they can offer you some commiserations? So, in this case, the maid felt her dignity was ruined and didn’t like my colleague. You see the relationship? Her dignity was bruised by herself. She impoverished her poor mind. It’s the absurdity of human I never understand.
You may suffer from your great sense of insecurity. I understand that. I, too, want to be accepted, of course! I’m not living on sole planet. I encounter people unavoidably and live among them. But what do you expect of? The tremendous adulation and admiration? I will say it again. You can damn insult yourself, but do not dare plant that thought to anyone else. It’s contagious. I consider it to be escalating crime.
I’d even experienced such ridiculous situation myself. I had known a guy and he was quite good-looking, for … himself. And since he and I had to cooperate with each other somehow, he had that hallucinatory idea that I liked him. I didn’t know what had I done to him to imaginatively think that way. And since I did not meet his standard of beauty (which was way too much for a guy looking like him), he didn’t think he wanted to like me and tried to avoid me. Gosh, we needed to work together sometime and he didn’t give me a hand at all. And I gained rage and loathing for him. So that’s that; he thought I liked him; he didn’t like me; I didn’t like him back. Damn, such an ugly theory. The awful linkage. Many guys around me were/are snobbish, smug, pompous, and overgrown self-esteem.
I’m always dumbstruck by how personal mind can lead people. “I think, therefore I am” is definitely true. Minds are no respecter of persons.