Sunday, March 30, 2008

 
Almost Catching 30

All that hectic travelling punctuated with flight cock-ups and transportation delays have done nothing to distract me from thinking and straying off in my thoughts.

I spent many nights lying alone on my big, comfortable bed with plush pillows (with no lover to hold me tight, especially the yearning for the Old Boy) in a 5-star hotel room thinking and thinking away, often drifting in and out of sleep. I had (and still have) lots to think about- my sense of feeling trapped in my work situation, the failure of shaking off the Old Boy who dominated the most part of my waking imagination and the very thought of DL and the Fluffball and the ability to let go… my tears constantly welled up my eyes.

On the weekend, I spent my last day in San Francisco with another friend from the old days in Paris. We had a blast in the year of 2004. She mentioned that her mum found a video of us all stoned from pot and hung over from cheap bottles of French wine in that bohemic apartment that I first rented alone. I vaguely remembered giving my two cents’ worth of the world in a snarling way I think and my hilarious confession of my lust for M. Yes M, who was so 2004, 2005 and 2006… Unfortunately, her mum couldn’t send it on time from Texas for us to re-live the good old bitter sweet of that part of my existence.

Larky and I spent my last evening in her beautiful Victorian era apartment that sat on the top of the hill, overlooking the wonderful views of the San Francisco skyline. She continued smoking pot and we reminisced our time and tear a lot-me about DL and her about Pat (who is M’s good friend and part of the Chilean boys; she regretted her actions and now understood his love for her). We started piecing certain missing puzzles together about M and what I am slowly beginning to get a bad taste in my mouth…

Larky was slowly beginning to be surprised about M’s visit to Singapore to visit me.

“He wrote to say he bumped into you in Singapore, P.”

(I didn’t mention also that M confessed that he didn’t consider Larky a true friend).

“No, he came to visit me. He stayed at my house.”

(Widened eyes and slight jaw drop).

“Oh my god, P. He made it sound so casual…Did you guys sleep together?”

“Yes.”

(Greater shocked face.)

“He said he loved me too.”

“Oh my god, P. I can’t believe this! He always made it out in Paris like you were the one coming onto him! Remember one night while you were crying, I slapped you and told you to wake up and forget about him?”

“Yup. And I didn’t understand why you did that…”

“So M did love you…”

“I thought he came to Singapore as a friend and wanted to have free lodging, to be honest and then I realised otherwise. After all, it was more than a year after Paris by then…”

“Oh my god, I still cannot believe this.”

“Yeah.”

Then I told Larky the story about his visit.

“Hey, so do you think if you were to move to Asia like Shanghai, you will end up with M?”

“No, don’t think so. Maybe we’ll shag and that’s about it. I am now at a different place emotionally Larky plus with what you have told me, I don’t think I could ever take him that seriously ever again.”


“But obviously he did loved you to come visit. Maybe he put it in that casual way because I was friends with Julie (the girl M cheated me with)…”

“Doesn’t matter now Larky. Truth is he misrepresented me that way in Paris. Don’t think I could be so giving of my heart to him like I did before. And he’s young and will have lots more to come for him…”

M will turn 25 June this year. Only.

See no stones are ever left unturned in my life, even if it meant much later.

****

There is just something that made me instantly fall in love with the city, San Francisco.

The wonderful Victorian architecture, with the numerous plantation shutters I noted within the apartments, the weather, the dog friendly environment, the friendly people and just the general layout of the entire city. I even spotted Danielle Steel’s house.

I feel I could live there.

The first thought that came to my mind was DL, the Fluffball and I. How perfect this city would be for us- I could so envision us living there and being happy. I was bursting in excitement to tell him, just like that day when I was in another state and was having the best Japanese buffet and got so excited I had to text him about the food and what a great business plan it would be for him in Sad Town or even Sydney.

****

Yesterday, I turned 29. The last of my twenty-something years I spent on the plane.

I waited to see who were the people I called my friends who would remember.

My parents had emailed me two days in advance.

Yesterday, the Older Sibling was the first to text me- “Happy Birthday! May this yr bring u great health, gd luck & happiness! xoxo”

Then came DL- “Happy Birthday AP (his nickname for me) It’s 29th of march, 3am here in Australia. Just remember it’s ur bd. C u on tue.”

Followed by Nano- “Hey P :) happy bday!”

Followed by B- “Grown any wiser?”

Followed by Old Boy- “Happy Birthday dear. Hope u have a gd one wherever u may be. Thinking of u fondly. Kiss Kiss.”

Followed by Ros- “Happy Birthday darling wish you pretty health and wealth will all be good for you so when you coming back (Sad Town) really need to catch up and Archie wants to wish you as well see ya when you back.”

Followed by V- “Happy Birthday P! Life begins at 29 :) May everything go well from here.”

Followed by Tina- “Happy Birthday to you P love Tina.”

Followed by the Younger Sibling-“ Hey happy birthday! Hope u have a good year ahead… be happy n treasure e things around :)”

Followed by Adel-“Hi gal Happy Belated Birthday!”

**

When I got home this morning, I logged onto my laptop and checked out my Facebook.

Three more messages written on my wall:

Ant: “Happy Birthday, my dear P.”

Koran: “many happy returns & many even better ones to come! hope u doing good & have an awesome one!” And a sweet u-tube Happy Birthday video.

Happy Birthday
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v...

Cherry: “Happy Birthday, P.”

And then surprise!

A Facebook message from M:

“Happy birthday Miss P!!
Hope all is going well over there, any exciting news? (weddings, children new jobs?)
Here all is well in shanghai, raining today and spending a quiet day at home reading and relaxing...
Just talked to Random George the other day, he is in NY and Pat is working in New Zealand, surfing a lot...
Best wishes for the coming year and a big hug...

M”

****

I find myself crying heaps lately. Like now.

(The last clairvoyant who saw me looked at my face and she chided, "You love to cry don't you? What's there to cry about?")

I think of the Fluffball. I think of DL.

Then I think of my claustrophobia at work.

Then I think of the Old Boy.

Then there are more.

Congestion I feel.

I hope by the time I hit 30, I would have all my mess figured out.

****

Oh did I also tell you that Nano kind of proposed to me before I boarded the plane last night?

Something about us getting married on Wednesday. But I’m quite sure he meant it in jest.

Don't think you will all be hearing wedding announcements from me anytime time soon. Not before my 30th birthday at least, I don't think.

Monday, March 24, 2008

 
Jetsetter

The past few weeks I lived through a series of flight disasters and catastrophes basically.

Then I was dumped on Monday formally by the Old Boy and now here I am in Los Angeles.

Its not even 9pm yet on a Sunday night and the house that I am staying in is quiet as hell.

My heart palpitates away as I type. You see, my nerves are still frail and given that I am left alone to my own devices by the old friend of mine from back in my days in Paris (who too is suffering from an astronomical physical pain that leaves her beautiful self all depressed and skinny and the need to pop multiple painkillers and sleeping pills to knock her out in the night),and being more of an owl, I am plagued by my own thoughts and anxiety. Surprisingly, my energy levels remain high and I am undefeated by sleep, I am getting more and more nervous by the minute.

Tomorrow, I fly to another state to work- the claustrophobia and fear of that thought fast accelerates my anxiety levels like my hectic travelling schedule, reminding me that before too long, I will be back in Sydney in no time and that I have to face the horrible team that I work for again...

My chest continues to tighten by the thought. I am just about to lose it at work (got the bad vibes again from the team on my last day prior to the long weekend) combined with my emotional state.

In fact, guess what? I did lose it when I learnt that my replaced flight to the U.S was delayed. First, my issued Business class ticket got canceled on the day before Good Friday, then the flight got canceled at the airport and I had to fly with another airline and THEN I missed out being allocated an aisle seat (claustrophobic problems) and then upon embarking the plane, I was seated next to a couple with two young babies and then we were made to disembark the plane due to technical problems before delaying the take off.

This was notwithstanding that I was still severely jetlagged from my return from Asia at the start of the week. I returned to the office straight upon touching down (the day where I also started to week by being ditched by the Old Boy and then meeting DL and Fluffball on the same night and felt like my entire life was going freaking downhill). Last week in Asia, I had a similar problem where I was flown off to a strange city that wasn't supposed to be my destination and was stuck there because the system didn't have my name to travel onwards. A string of crazy events took place where I finally arrived much later (a straightforward 2.5 hours turned to an 8-hour nightmare)and to add on to the fun (not!), I was allocated a seat that wouldn't recline to let me rest my sore back. I arrived in that hotel, dumped my bags and headed straight to the hall to do the necessary socialising and networking. By 2am in the morning as I returned to my hotel room tipsy, I realised in utter shock that my bag with my passport and at least AUD$500 was missing. I had left it in the limousine.

Oh, I haven't mentioned that the drycleaner's have also lost my expensive dress (that I took so much trouble to get the shop assistants to alter and return to me on time; think it's not meant to be) that I have only worn once. The night before I flew to Asia, I wanted to pack it into my suitcase and surprise, surprise, it was missing with the bunch of drycleaning that I had just received the evening before! The phone was slammed down on me when I demanded the matter to look into. I was so fuming mad!!!!

So yeah, I felt that I could not take my shitty life anymore and had a good mind not to board the plane whilst waiting its technical problems to be fixed and then not return to the office. EVER!!! I rang the older sibling and bawled my eyes out. People were looking at me but I didn't care a fuck about looking crazy because I was really losing it!!!!

I even lost my boarding pass for one moment (although it was re-issued to me at the boarding gate cos I insisted on a better seat like 15 minutes before)and my hands were terribly shaking...

****

The Old Boy continues to haunt my mind. On planes, on my sleepless nights and wherever I haven't occupied my mind on anything. I try to confine my thoughts of him in abstract forms as the idea of intimacy or lack of from his end drives me straight to depression. I feel my heart squeeze mercilessly...

Just 2 weeks ago at the Paragon, I got him to buy my lollies from Marks & Spencer. I hoarded them preciously and with each Percy pig that I chewed on, I know that the packet is only as good as it last. There will be no second time where he would buy me another packet. He offered to get me the Pierre Cardin handbag that I have adored whilst we were there but I wanted nothing from him except his affections for me.

Finally, I did decide that I wanted a present from him- only because I knew I was losing him and that sentimental me just wanting to hold on to the fondness of memories. I wanted a keepsake from him to affirm that our joint existence have been real.

Ironically, he bought be a white gold chain that I was meaning to replace from the broken one in the longest while and which the Old Boy knew. It was my 26th birthday present from DL that held a brilliant cut diamond pendant.


****

The day we last laid intimately together on the bed in Hotel 81 some two weeks ago and the last it would be, I said the three magic words to the Old Boy.

"I love you Darling," I whispered in his ear affectionately and I held him tight.

"You know you shouldn't. We should't even be doing this."

"But I do. Please don't say that you don't want to be with again," I whined vulnerably and kissed him lightly on his cheek.

He tightened his embrace.

We fell asleep after that.

**

I miss the smoothness of the Old Boy's body. I love running my fingers along his tummy, down his thighs and even holding his flaccid willie in my hand. Just the sheer vulnerability of his being, which I am overwhelmed with tenderness.

Those haunting moments when I inserted his hardening manhood in my mouth with dear affection and gave it all the pleasure that it sought while I went almost breathless. My eyes would meet his as the engorged beast filled up my entire orifice while I sucked it with love, affection and lust. With each moan the Old Boy uttered, I was encouraged to lick and suck harder and deeper until he is finally overwhelmed and succumbed to his desire where he would relived his manhood in my mouth. With affectionate duty, I swallowed his cum. I wanted to be his good gal.

*

Post intimacy as we laid in bed, I ran my hand down his bare belly. I felt the flattening contours of his tummy. We were lying sideways in spoon fashion.

"Baby, you seemed to have lost weight."

"That a sweet thing to say, Darling." He turned his head to me and smiled.

"I mean it baby. You definitely have lost weight. I can feel it."

*

Days later, we met for the last time at the bar on a Friday night. He presented me with the present and brought me some food that he had cooked earlier on. We were seated with his group of friends on high stools where we held hands under the table. He whispered to me affectionately that he had weighed himself that day and indeed, he had lost some weight. He then kissed my cheek lightly.

That night, we finally parted around 3a.m in the morning. Despite much cajoling by me to tempt him into sneaking to my room, he had firmly refused. He attempted to break the tensed situation as my tipsiness is making me even more persistent in keeping up with my bad tantrums, the Old Boy got me to take the chain out of the jewellery box so that he put it around my neck.

I continued to be insistent. I wanted it to be a last special night. I will risk it at all cost (with my parents) to take him to my private chambers and spend some moments of intimacy with me. He was as persistent as I was in his rejections of my propositions, citing that it was very late, his wife was waiting up and she had texted him and that we shouldn't risk it with my parents.

I was fast losing ground. With the copious amounts of alcohol that I have consumed during the night well kicking into my blood stream and further heightening my anxiety and pain, I made on last emphatic plea.

"But we won't see each other for a long time..."

"There is still July. Darling, please I got to go home.It's really late."

"But I don't even know if I can definitely come back, baby."

"Well, there's MSN in the meantime."

"NO! You know, I will cut you off and never contact you again! You break my heart!"

He nodded and there was a calm smile on his face.

Our eyes met and I stared daggers at him. My heart was in pain.

I knew I was fighting a losing battle. I was a wounded soldier who is all ready to lash back whatever that was left of me.

"I HATE YOU!!!!!" I screamed.

My voice echoed on my street and broke the silence of early morning as I got out of his car. I slammed his door with all my might, culminating the anger and pain I felt for the futility of the moment. (I was told the next day that the door handle fell off from my violent exertion).

During this visit back home, we did not consummate our affair.

I had waited fervently for eight weeks upon my return home again to spend time with the Old Boy.

He wasn't keen in Hotel 81 although his oral and finger stimulation did a great job at bringing me to orgasm consecutively. I bestowed him with a puddle yet again and could have continued going on for the afternoon....

I was coy to put in my special requests with him (which I have fantasized for a good two months)and by the time I had given him enough satisfaction, he was too tired to re-start the session with other forms of play.

Well, guess he just wasn't interested in me anymore.

Actually, I know so. He told me that day. I stressed him out even in bed. I am just not his type.

****

So yeah, I lost the Old Boy.

And then there's more.

****

All the travelling does nothing to wear me out physically just yet.

Emotionally, it has been jet setting and globe trotting for a long time now.

I am really getting sick and tired of myself.

I still haven't become a seasoned traveller.

Or rather, is it a tourist?

I always do the touch and go. Mostly involuntary though.

One affairs ensuing another or maybe simultaneously.

****

It's been almost four years since Paris.

For the first time since then, I met my good friend in Los Angeles she now calls her home.

She said I am now emotionally more stable.

No way, I told her. Am just trying to keep myself under control, my dear friend.

So did you ever have sex with DL after, she asked. She knew I had lost interest in carnality for a long time pre-Paris.

Oh yeah. Paris did change me, my friend.

I cannot stop after that. DL calls me a "terrorist" (for sex). And then I never stopped having affairs. I have become somewhat like the compulsive shoplifter, my friend.

But memorable and fucking good orgasmic sex? Two comes to my mind, barring DL.

The Aura and the Old Boy.

****

I thought I found the perfect formula in the Old Boy.

Married man, no strings attached eventually. We would even allow polygamy and non-exclusivity.

Endless indulgence of great sex and companionship.

The Certainty of not having a joint future.

I never cared for marriage.

****

Last night, at the Standard Hotel, us ladies hung out at its exclusive balcony bar that overlooked the beautiful skyline of Downtown LA.

We mingled with a group of men, having a Buck's night.

"Good Luck!" I said to the Lawyer,one of the friends of the groom-to-be.

"Are you married?" he asked.

"Do I look like I am married?" I laughed.

"Well you could be."

"I couldn't be bothered with the notion." I smiled flirtatiously.

" I very much like to enjoy all the honey of matrimony but non of the sting.Thank you very much."

He laughed nervously.

****

Back to jetsetting.

My heart constantly is.

Tired and suicidal I am.

But will I ever find a home?

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

 
March of Blues

Being back in Asia in March has always been an interesting or trying time of the year for me-socially or romantically speaking.

You see, I am the one hit wonder in December who suddenly falls out of favour by the beau comes March. As the usual story goes, I return with a heavy bucket of tears.

Early morning, I thought I was about to do something destructive to my life.

I woke up feeling like I couldn’t cope with the world, the burden of my heart and the pain of my soul.

I broke down and cried so hard before my dog. Before, we had a nice early morning walk in the autumn cold, which did nothing to inspire me. The greyness and coldness of the weather only compounded the weight of my heart.

**

Yesterday, I touched down in Ozland and went straight to work. Jetlagged and severely overcame by fatigue I was. I treaded carefully at work and remained on high alert as a corporate slave.

That afternoon, I was ditched by the Old Boy on msn. No amount of “I can change to accommodate you and keep you happy” and “but I love you” were enough to keep him. I was just not his type he conceded. Being with me was too stressful he said- he was constantly afraid of getting caught out, he said. Then he went on to say that I could get any guy I wanted and why would I want to stick to him, the married man. Then there was more- P being manipulative in getting her way3, obsessive, possessive, bad attitude and my love of public display of affection (PDA) for him. He has always been uncomfortable around me, couldn’t I see, he asked. He cited that even my friends noticed.

“I will change and tone down the PDA, darling,” I begged emphatically. But it was no good.

“Maybe it’s not about you, it’s me. In short, I just cannot handle it! I cannot handle you, ok!”

Ironically, we both tried very hard with each other.

The Old Boy never failed to “service” me voluntarily. He babied and pampered me in every way he could. I noticed he made the effort to spend a fair bit of money on me, always afraid and self-conscious that the food and presents he were to offer me were not good enough. When it drizzled lightly, he fussed around me with an umbrella, which I dismissed carelessly in my child-like pouty way that I am not a wimp. He never failed to remind me that no one could massage and crack my sore back like he did. For all that, I love him to death. Sadly, it was also for all this, that he couldn’t handle me.

I am so child-like which he dislikes and then when I am strong, he didn’t like it either. How much of a damsel can I be to you, Baby? I asked. He got to see the most child like part of my being, my guard let down and now he was telling me that he didn’t like that part of me that he was privy to?

He was sorry, he said. He still prefers his other silly slaves. They made less stressful and easier company.

All I could say was not good enough-after he got me started and me bending backwards for him in action and pride (as my friends would attest), now he was telling me I was not good enough? I tried, I really did…

By the time, we logged off, my nerves were strung real tight.

DL, whom I hadn’t seen in months was waiting for me downstairs at work. I had to re-compose myself.

We went to our favourite restaurant where we spent many an occasion in the past over wine and sake with the view of the harbour before us discussing the grand plans of our joint future. My heart ached silently when we touched on the topic that we no longer had to worry about our day-to-day lives financially which had traditionally bonded us but ironically, resulted in a lot of resentment. I noticed too that he had grown pensive and perhaps was too quietly aching on why we never finally came together after years of struggling to make our lives work and become in sync. Now that he is finally getting what I meant all along and truly wanted the lifestyle that I had originally proposed for us. I quickly felt the warmth of my tears swelling up my eyes as I turned my face straight to focus on the harbour…

We refrained from holding hands (as a very openly PDA P, whom very strangely had successfully refrained from encouraging a touch as she knows that if she did with DL, she would say yes to him and sail back to her Designated Harbour and hang up her sails for good). Many a moment, we talked in our familiar idiosyncratic way injecting it with the ugliest phrases we had coined so comfortably in each other’s comfort. Even having to fart before him would do little to tease a glimmer of embarrassment from your truly and vice versa. When we walked towards the car with the Fluffball popping her face at the window, he exclaimed like a proud parent, “Isn’t she beautiful?” That is so us. I walked towards Fluffball with my arms wide open and said affectionately, “Mummy and Daddy are back, baby!” For that split second, I detected that mutual pain and regret we shared.

At home, I toned down my bossy ways with DL but still maintained that tone of authority over the choice of his liquid intake- he was to drink water and nothing else before bedtime I insisted. I noticed that it served him some comfort that I was still my old ways and over caring for him. I laid on the couch whilst he watched TV and waited with him until he was ready to retire to bed upstairs, just like the good old days as a couple. I must have fallen asleep for a while and in my groggy stage as he nudged me gently to head to the bedroom to sleep, I vaguely remembered that somehow I might possibly have been sleeping on his lap on one side while he sat on our old familiar couch and with Fluffball on his other side…

But no, we did nothing. Even his mattress had a dividing groove to separate mine.

Then early in the morning, he got changed and left for his flight back home. He bid me farewell in the dark and in my half awoken state, I put my palm to my lips and blew him a kiss goodbye.

I sunk my face into the pillow- my heart performing its torturous somersaults as I recalled the emotional blows the Old Boy has served me less than 24 hours before combined with the pain of my inability to want DL back (despite often tempting to but heavily suppressed with distractions of other social extra curriculum activities that sought to compound emotional problem on problem like now) recalling what a great night we had before and then him leaving just like that, so strangely without a kiss or any words of endearment…

This morning, I was very close to destroying myself or allow my depression to do a free fall…

I did wish that I were dead.

No need for SOS or plea for attention.

Just end it.

****
In the depressive autumn cold of the morning, I walked my dog and again I heard the echoic recitation in mind of my favourite poem:

Love's Dormitory

I am tired of giving my heart
cold showers
and early morning runs on emotion's
playing fields.

My love wanders wide on quiet
studious mornings
so please tell me how long
until the end of this term?

- Stuart Flavell


It was déjà vu- reminding me of the height to my depression in those dark years between 2002-2007, which I thought I have slowly but surely have managed to leave behind.

How was I to learn only now that my soul is fundamentally still one and the same?

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

 
Anxiety

Got the palpitations at the moment.
Don't know how it happens.
I feel shit.
Thinking of work.
My trip back to Asia.
Shitting me.
I keep thinking about work.
Me missing in action with the deal.

More cock ups today.
Fuck them.
Most people get on my nerves.

Apprehensive about home coming.
Mixed feelings.

Want to go home for good.
Leave this darn place.
Emotionally still tied.
To DL and the fluff.

Can't start on this one.
Cos my tears still flow.
Disappointment I detected.
But suppressed for me.
When I mentioned I might leave.

Wrote to B today.
Tell her how much I miss her.
Feel like I am about to crumble.
Heart is no good.
Snappy nerves.
Need refuge from home.

Every spare waking moment.
The Old Boy lingers.
My mind is haunted.
By his tenderness.

Imagination ruined again.
No sex he said.
Taunted I am.
Yet again.

Cuddles I want.
The Old Boy to give.
His dick I long
To suck.

Dirty thoughts I have.
For him to commit
on me.
Foul foul thoughts.

Then a video or two
We should both make.
To capture the moments
of sweet delight.

Close up shot
I want of his dick
entering my pussy.
Capture the flow of
my wanton juice for
his thick hard rod.

Love him I do
so much I want
to give all of myself
to him.

Surrender mind
body and soul
seek refuge from him
let him seek refuge
from me.

shield us from the
disappointments or
pains of this
crazy world

Can you see
I am so
crumbling
and
spiralling

Different love
from DL
No energy to
become heavy.
No expectations.
Just love.

Can we jointly achieve?

Anxiety
I feel.
My soul needs
to get out
of me

One day I
fear for me
A knife I will
lunge deep
in my heart
and pull it
out to
sever
me.

Sunday, March 02, 2008

 
The Camel’s Back

Since the start of the week, you have slept no more than five hours each day. You felt dehydrated and with the impending arrival of autumn in the wet weather, you felt you are coming down with the flu.

At a certain stage, you flew in and out of state in a day after back to back meetings (with no time to pee or eat), plus a delayed flight back due to storm and with no chauffer arranged to come pick you back home in the late of the night, given that the secretary has no idea when exactly you might touch down, you were basically fucked.


In those next few days, you came to learn that hired cabs are unreliable in Sydney. No matter how early you have awaken just to make sure no one fucks up your schedule and inevitably your career just so that your mind of steel could outdo the fatigue of your body, things would still fuck up. Somehow your stipulated cab driver will either keep you chasing after him in the rain because he was blind to you in the wee hours of the morning and it didn’t help that you happened to be dressed in your black suit or he did not know his way to THE tower of power you work and his electronic navigator cum street directory could do little to assist him in fathoming your address so much that he had to disrupt your power naps so that you could do his job or he simply bailed out on you while you waited for a good half hour and you have little choice but to run to the train station and instead rely on the good old trusted public transport. You learnt that the most reliable mode of transport is to get a hired chauffer like the ones you get to sit in when your bosses are around because these people understand that their livelihoods only stand at the expense of waiting on other people’s time and making sure everything runs smoothly; there is no room for mistakes by missing the beat by even one second.

This is also a week where you realised you always get to do everyone’s job for them. Your servitude and patience of God has been tested at a new profound level.

Working away at your desk for fifteen hours straight again with little food and toilet breaks is something you have always taken pride in being able to handle. You realised that you are quite able to do the work of your bosses and multiply that by six times in efficiency of what they could usually achieve in producing in one day of the similar job. You do the grunt work but you also do the write up that as a junior burger of your team, your work contract would have stated that the level of that job was meant to for the revenue generators, not the executor. And you must realise your place as an executor. Never mind, you keep telling yourself-that is the fun part of the job- writing about people. After all, isn’t that what you do in your private time?

But you get the shits when things were deemed wrong-grammatically and what have you. People forget that you are doing their work and you haven’t any support to double-check the work that they have so carelessly promised the client within an impossible turnaround time as you churned the assessments away. They forget that like them, you have also got only 24 hours a day and no matter how much sleep you have sacrificed to make the mission impossible work and tried your darnest to make them look so good whilst they slept in peace, you could only achieve this much.

Came crunch time to deliver as the client called for the finished goods to be delivered whilst you continue working tirelessly away, suddenly the honcho started getting the panic attack. The honcho hurried and watched over you as you typed, telling you how cross she was and how slow you were typing whilst she then rounded the rest of the frightened team (who was actually getting ready to leave for the day) to stay back and proof read your work. She spat sarcastically that it was filled with errors and some bits were “rubbish”. You had ten arrows flying in your direction, the honcho telling you she really wanted to get home now and you better send it off whilst the proof readers simultaneously shot questions over in attempts at making better sense of your work since they were not there at the meetings. You tried to take some deep-ish breaths whilst you type away and talked sense to each and everyone, with the honcho hounding you like she herself represented a pack of wolves and demanded that you stay glued to your seat whilst she tried to manage your screw ups. You did not allow yourself to crumble or cry under the pump. You simply would not let anyone detect your weakness- you kept a straight face and took the blows as it came. You hardened up but you did not feel any ounce of sorriness. The only sorriness you felt was a sense of disappointment perhaps with yourself thinking how you could have better managed yourself and prevented this situation.

When everything had gone under control or so it seemed, interested parties started to enter and take over at a very good time where all they needed to do was to take out the red pen and made some window dressing amendments to your work when you have already done the necessary damage control with the client directly. In fact, the “rubbish” that you have earlier written suddenly seemed to be worthy of presenting to the client. Never mind, you told yourself, at least it was done and you and the team made the deliverables and the client expressed satisfaction with the work.

You heaved a sign of relief. You truly believe in team spirit and sharing the credit for the finished product since the honcho has always been a preacher of joint collaboration amongst team members. You were ready to unwind for the evening with colleagues in other teams post the fire fighting.

The national Big Boss of the office (a man of ambassadorial presence and a prominent Chairman of a certain elite sports club) was present at the office social gathering that evening. He came over to speak to you. You have always held the man in the highest regard for his charms and gravitasque as a leader. You began to have a friendly chat with him over wine and then you asked him cheerfully why was it that he never looked stressed. Some small conversation there and he started telling you that he has been noticing for a long while because it is his job to observe all how his staff are being treated by their respective bosses and colleagues. He said that you have been too giving- you need to learn to say no sometimes to people and what has been demanded of you. He assured that he has said this not only in the capacity as a colleague but also in confidence as a friend because your instincts to always to protect your own pack. Your peers sitting around nodded away furiously. Your peers whom you have external friendships with have asked you for the longest while how the fuck you could handle the shits from your team when they often overheard what has been expected of you to produce or do. Whilst your peers each support just the one originator, you have been supporting a significant multiply to one. They asked you how the fuck you do it, especially when your team can speak to you in such a manner at times. You always smiled and say well, there is so much to learn from the expertise of each individual and that you could still handle it. You said the same to the national Big Boss that you have always asked yourself the question of whether you could handle it. Yes, thanks for his concern and advice and you will bear in mind but right now, you are quite happy with the way things are. You always maintain that level of prudence at work because you truly believe in team collaboration and to stick by the rules that you never bite the hand that feeds you despite the shortcomings of each of these people, which you are fully cognisant of. You hate to be caught in any potential conflict of interest and just want to get the job done and move on. There is still much good value in the experience you get out of the corporate world to prepare you for your own gig to come in years- you continue to grit your teeth.

The secretaries got flowers of appreciation by the honcho on a Friday morning for the “long hours” and stress they have gone through to support the team. You smiled and felt somewhat relieved. So whilst you thought that the last day of the week seemed to be winding down pretty well and the previous days have been saved with satisfied clients and a very appeased honcho, you thought the week couldn’t have ended any better. In the least expected of moments, the honcho, your colleague (the window dresser of your words) had to plan the next course of attack on the assignment. You suddenly found yourself being side stepped and openly insulted by the honcho that your colleague should really be sending his interview notes (and no P, you do not need to travel inter-state anymore to conduct the second rounds of interviews) to the secretaries to type up because “P can only type with two fingers” and “P, please don’t get us into this situation again…”

You felt so stumped and had a good mind to ask what situation? Because you must know that if P hasn’t written up and went along with her decision to write up thoroughly on each of the individual’s assessment to bring colour to them each but instead followed the honcho’s advice to write a few points, the client probably would not have been able to plan their strategy too well given that the work would have been slip shot and P was better off writing just one fucking big assessment to represent the “views of everyone”. Surprisingly (which the honcho should find out within these few days since she probably hasn’t read the completed client version), the other colleague (senior enough to make the call) has used P’s “rubbish” work and all the assessment will suggest that the content that she had earlier stressed over are still one and the same of P’s earlier work albeit being prettied up a little in some of the word arrangements. It is so convenient you know, to edit other people’s work and pretend that it is your own… your face began to turn red hot and you swallowed your saliva and held your breath for a bit…

You left the honcho’s room and got back to your desk. Business as usual, you told yourself. You have other assignments to get on and no time to grieve or moan. Somehow, as you continue typing away at your PC, you feel the hot tears swelling up your eyes. You took a deep breath but to no avail. You have little choice but to get up from your desk before you got too ridiculous looking…

You quickly made your way into the bathroom cubicle. You sat on the toilet seat and tried to hold back your tears but you could do little to contain that dam of tears. They just burst and you found yourself sobbing uncontrollably. All you could think of was, “how unfair, how unfair…” Thoughts flashing across your head- all the hard work and momentum you have gathered to work your way up the corporate ladder finally getting some traction but once again now quashed, the sacrifices you made along the way to make it work, even the relationship with DL that you gave up because you knew you have never been a multi-tasker to begin with and realised that you wanted a career more than you have the courage to juggle with two things… and look where that led you to, you asked yourself? You haven’t broke down like this since the day you let DL go after he left your place because you simply cannot allow yourself to crumble no matter how much pain you feel…you tell yourself you should allow no time to dwell and grieve on anything in your life because you have to be strong for yourself to prepare you for the bigger things in life that will come if you continue to focus on it...

But a screw up- you have been deemed. You did other people’s work, bore the brunt when things are not looking great, finally delivered satisfactory work with happy clients but people only remembered those “mistakes” you made and never failed to remind you that you screwed it up for them- never mind how ridiculous the deadlines they have promised were but the fact was you delayed the unrealistic timeline they have set and in that, you have since been condemned a failure. No one backed you up even when they were aware of the injustice committed on you(and silently am glad each of them were not on the firing line) - once again, you are made to fend for your defence- less self. Either way, you could only lose in a situation like such.

Heck the sore back, neck and eyes from the long, crazy hours of deep concentration at work. The camel has always been real hardy and quite enjoys a good challenge. But injustice- how could one justify one that has been committed on you that will continue to mar her good reputation? What’s your limit?

This incident has thus broken the camel’s back. You have already questioned yourself critically if it was your Ego playing silly buggers with you yet again to attribute to your embarrassingly wimpy break down episode that amounted to a wallow in self-pity session. But this time you know better.

****

The bonus cheque was delivered. You noticed that you have been taxed more than 40% on the amount that you hadn't been too excited about.

Anyhow, you just blew more than one grand on retail therapy to prepare yourself for homecoming where you got to pretty up on those occasions where you do your social rounds. Still, the outlay has done nothing to appease that internal injury committed to you at work this time round. You continue to keep the scores close to your heart.

****

So yes, you are convicted to plan your next course of action. You will seriously take up the national Big Boss’s advice and bring it up to him on Friday night drinks and form an alliance comes the following week where another social event will give rise to some opportunity for aligning with the right people. You have never felt so determined with this notion. But now at all costs, you will devise a plan to find your way back home. You have enough of doing the right thing by everyone and inevitably letting yourself down one too a many time, setting your own plans back. Now you will take care of you- no more excuses for anyone and for yourself. All it really took was one final straw of injustice to cut you deep enough at where it matters.

All that deep seated anger has culminated to this point and with this one incident who has thus fuelled you to the extent of no return, you are so ready to launch. And yes, with a vengeance.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?