It's a quiet night

BEHOLD

Possibly the cutest creature ever born into the Earth. My niece; Ann Wong Pui Ling. As of today, she is ten days old and she has stolen my heart ten times over. I cannot believe I am saying this, but she is a miracle. A sheer miracle.

I held her for the first time today, and she seemed quite content to sleep on my (fat) arms, swaddled in a blanket and peering at me from half-open eyes. She has no clue who I am, but I'm sure over time she will come to realise the giant face with the goofy smile on it is mine.

I think my entire family is going to spoil her rotten, and I'm sure we cannot be blamed for it.

*goofy smile*

That aside, I have not much to update; save for more about work.

Work... which is not as fulfilling as I thought it would be. It is, in essence, a very lonely job, this job of mine. Much time is spent riding on trains, meeting and being surrounded by people you only perfunctorily acquaint yourself with and then chances are you'll never see them again -- or if you do, you have forgotten them and as such, it is awkward.

It is a lonely job, this job. You attend functions and write about them, you see politicians squabble among themselves and report about them too. You return to office, where everyone is too busy with work (or too busy looking as if they're busy with work) to talk to you.

Everyone IS nice, very nice, but at the end of it all you won't be meeting them out of work.

I used to have that -- hanging with colleagues after work, but it was taken away from me. Or rather, I backed out of it. I don't regret leaving, but I regret having to give up that part of my job that was fun, where my colleagues were also my friends and I could kick back and have a pint with them.

Now, the only ones who drink are the editors, and the editors are far too scary to do any kick-backing and pint-ing with.

I miss my friends -- K, V, JE, Zenzei, Braman. I want to go on a holiday but it seems we're poorer ever since we began earning money on our own.

We are all too poor to afford a vacation but Lord knows I need one so, so, SO badly it hurts.

The worst part about it all is that despite my perpetual destitution, my all-consuming job and such and such, I KNOW I should have nothing to complain about.

My job is a great job that most people would die to experience. My family is a gift of which till today, I;m not quite sure I deserve entirely. My friends are amazingly, STILL my friends even after everything bad or tumultuous. I am healthy, my niece is healthy, and poor as I may be, I am happy.

But I am, somehow, embarrassingly enough, lonely. Its a feeling I cannot describe. I don't think I can describe it without coming off as ungrateful or whiny. So I won't.

God.

I need a vacation. Please?

And because it's Sunday in the office

and right now, only my colleague is here; editors are thankfully still

a) eating leftover rookie reporters from the Reporter Stew they made last night
b) boiling Journalist-soup with carrots, parsnipes and some additional blood, sweat and tears

Coz y'know, editors roll like that. My time will come when I too, become an editor, and shall find that the flesh of a terrified rookie journo tastes better than lamb.

I'm supposed to follow up on a story but since it's Sunday, nobody is going to answer my calls now, are they?

So thats' why I'm blogging now, as if I don't already have enough writing to do on a daily basis.

So since it's been a long while since I blogged, I guess you're going to have to put up with an extra-long bunch of nonsense.

Sun-shiney days

So yeah my old/new job has been a rollercoaster ride where I came close to being inside the Editors' stew pot on many occasions. I swear I saw my news editor look at me and think:

"Now that scared reporter... she'll be great with potatoes and a bit of basil and rosemary. Hint of pepper. Now to convince her that the pot is merely a funny-shaped chair..."

I have also gotten 'up close and personal' with some of the slimiest politicians in the world, jolok-ed Ministers, snooped around Kampar, called up people and witnessed some of the finest liars in the world in action.

Yeah, it's been awesome. I've done so many stories and written so many things I can't really remember half of them. But being in newsdesk has been surprisingly, amazing.

I have always had an aversion to newsdesk, see, because I don't do so good with giving facts as they are. I like going round the whole background story before arriving to the point because I believe in telling the entire story without gaps in them.

I'm like that in real life, and I'm like that in writing.

I've gotten some flak for that in the first few weeks, but my Lord, I think I may have finally gotten the hand of it at last. I've learnt some about giving the facts without frills, to give readers only what is necessary for them to know, and filtering what isnt:

a) new
b) important
c) or will have an impact on people.

So no; what our Health Minister had for lunch does NOT count.

(P/S: He had vegetarian food. He's vegetarian. I had lunch with him. I was pretty much invisible, he was talking to my EDITOR)

So.

On a more personal note...

I have no life except work. I think about work on my off-days, I think about work during work days, and I think about work even when I am not working.

My parents are beginning to give me hurt looks again, as if I am treating the house like a hotel, but what can I do? I need the overtime money; credit card bills a-piling, see. So if I work overtime, I can cover for any bill shortfalls.

But money is so small these days -- a hundred bucks is like ten bucks these days.

Shit, did I just type a double dash, like I do in my stories? F-it.

I'm still trying to hang out with my friends (hello!) as often as I can, and I've gone out a few times with my ex-colleagues, who've been great to me. LOADS of gossip about my ex-employer but I won't go into it here.

I'm still hopelessly in-love with my dogs, who have been crazier than ever, and continue to plague and love me.

I suspect Lucky is an alien from outer space, sent to dispense love and affection to unsuspecting owners.

And for now, that is more than enough.

Marjorie's very stale Margarine and then some.

So, many things happened.

I got my first ever front page byline in theSun. It was hidden by a half-wrap advertisement but I think I'll take whatever cookies sent my way.

I bought Danish butter cookies for the office to celebrate the fact that I don't suck. Or at least don't suck much.

It's slightly comforting. But I still make stupid mistakes and I feel totally ashamed. I seem to have most my touch, being in the previous place made me careless with my facts. That will take some time to break, but by golly. I'll do it.

So. Marjorie's Margarine is back in slippery business. Wrote another 500 words or so, very proud of myself. Here is the fourth part:

CHAPTER 3

Matthew, better known as Bloodlust Writes, woke up with a vicious headache and a very pretty, slightly pinkish girl sleeping on his shoulder. He was sitting inside a train filled with people in suits, dresses and the work-wear of those who wished they had better jobs. And definitely better pay.

The train sounded as loud as the screeches of the Leering Men Who Killed My Only Family.

He glanced around, eyes squinted, head throbbing and legs stiff from hours of sitting. He had no idea where he was headed, but he knew what he wanted to do. And what he wanted to do was retrieve the wisps of blue from within those sons of bitches who ate his father.

There was only that small problem of how, but he thought it a minor detail. If anyone can lead him to them, it’s the brown-haired girl that slept next to him. The one with a little bit of drool down the side of her mouth.

He shifted uncomfortably, and she woke up with a jerk.

“I thought you said you had a plan,” he said to her, testily. She looked abashed. “I did. The plan was to bait them with your brains, capture one of them, and force the truth out of them.” She looked downward, and rubbed a stain of blood off her pants.

“But they… were not quite what I thought they would be,” she admitted.

Writes bit back the urge to be sarcastic, mean and just a little jerk-ass. He wanted to tell her that she caused him to lose everything. But seeing something misty in her eyes softened his already soft heart.

(Of course he has a soft heart. Just because he was bloodthirsty didn’t mean he was a monster.)

He sighed. He looked around for a few short moments, taking in the other passengers, taking in the battered seats, taking in the entire situation.

He couldn’t.

But he was certain that the lady sitting three rows down to his left had a dark and mysterious past, muttering to herself and surreptitiously feeding something inside her large brown handbag a slice of bread every now and then. He knew there was a story there. Maybe she kept her children inside the bag, after she had cursed them with a spell that would keep them as children forever – except it went wrong and they ended up the size of rats.

Or maybe she had a pet mouse inside her bag and just didn’t want the station master to find out.

But that was too boring. That was not his style at all.

Marjorie was, however, looking at him strangely. Her body tense, she straightened and leaned towards him.

“You had another idea didn’t you?”

He lifted his eyebrows. “No. I had a story in my head. I can’t help it. It’s who I am.”

She nodded. “That’s it. That’s just it.” She sat back, with a satisfied air, as if she had finally proved her point.

Something clicked. Suddenly. But Marjorie didn’t notice his eyes glazing over and his extra furious biting of skin that was the trademark of his ‘ding!’ moment.

(Some people get lightbulbs going off in their heads. That was too common for him. Writes just sucked more blood and felt a visceral, innate brain orgasm.)

Marjorie picked at lint on the chair. “Whatever. You said you had an idea.”

Writes nodded. He had it. He really did. He had toyed with that idea at first but what she said just made up his mind.

“I do. I am going to follow you around. Sooner or later, they’re gonna show up. When they do, they’re going to eat my ideas. I’m going to let them. Then I am going to show them what a real horrible idea looks like.”

Marjorie’s jaw dropped. “Wha- what do you mean?”

Writes shrugged. “Well, if they can eat and regurgitate a warped version, surely that warped version is still going to be mine? My consciousness? The ideas they eat belong to me, and I figured they’re a part of who I am. Isn’t that what you said?”

Marjorie shook her head furiously. “That’s not how it works! When they consume you, you are gone. YOU cease to exist. Your ideas are all that remains of you –” she stopped. “Wait.”

Writes grinned. “Lightbulb moment?”

Marjorie grinned nastily. “No. More like an exploding margarine moment.”

But her expression softened suddenly. “This is a no-recovery kind of plan. Once you’re consumed you don’t exist anymore. I can’t get you back into your body. I don’t even know if your crazy idea will work. If it doesn’t, we’re both dead and so is the world.”

Writes shrugged. The world was of little concern to him. He was more interested in knowing what being a blue wisp of nothing would feel like. Maybe like cotton candy.

That, he figured, will be just sweet.

**** to be continued***

(links to parte one and parte two and parte three. You know. if you're interested.)

Ya that's all la. I am lazy now. Kthxbye.

*blows dust* FOOSH!

I've done it! I've finally crawled out of my prison of work! I did it! I - OH CRAP.

Looks like I still have work to do

(UTARMCAGREEDYSONSABEETCHESREJECTTHIRTYMILLIONBUCKEROOSANDGOVERN-)

*GASp*

(-MENTTRANSFORMATIONPROGRAMME)

*wheeze koff koff*

So it's been exactly 21 days since I started work at The Great Big Ball of Fire in The Sky. Aka TGBBFS. That shall be the code word for where I work now. And like all new jobs, I struggle to prove myself and prove I am not a complete idiot but I must say.

I think I failed.

Three weeks isn't really enough time to tell if I am going to get myself fired or not but if I do not prove my worth soon I shall find myself out of a job.

Perhaps I am too melodramatic but in TGBBFS, it is serious. Dead serious. People here don't laugh, they don't smile, they don't joke, and they certainly do not suffer fools. And I, my friends, can be foolish.

I think I am not doing as well as I thought I would, and I am certain I have annoyed quite a few of the editors there. I simply find it hard to get used to the high power distance (thank you, Education) that is so in contrast to the way I could call MR H anytime and discuss with him anything. I miss that, and my ex-colleagues, the most. I miss the laughter and the ease, the way I could be involved in everything down to the final layout.

But I do not miss the way the company is being mismanaged, and I do not miss having the feeling my rice bowl could be kicked over at any time. That company is on it's way down, and I heard this from the horses mouth. The concern now is how to absorb the staff back into the group, and that is the only thing that is keeping the company from closing down entirely.

I blame a certain person, whom I shall not name. Everyone who heard that I resigned and joined the TGBBFS told me that it was the right choice. Let's face it. I'd rather be small fry in a big pond than a big fry in a DRIED OUT POND. I could have made top-dog, but I'd rather be small-puppy in a big kennel than a big-dog in a cardboard box.

Over here, the smallest frying pan in the office is too big for me, thats how small-fish I am. I knew exactly what I was going into, and what I would be getting, but it's hard to get used to it. It's been three weeks and I am still struggling to catch up. I am usually quite fast, but working where I was must have given me some bad habits that I can't break yet.

I worry that I am losing my touch, and I am totally unsure of myself. Perhaps it's because I have worked here before that nobody bothered to give me a briefing or show me how things work. But they forgot, it was 3 years since I last worked there. I have forgotten many things.

And so did The F (he shall be known henceforth as The F) tell me as much: "It seems that you've forgotten a lot of things since the last time you were here. I understand and give you some time to adjust but if you still don't, I shall have to turn on the heat."

Which is Editor speak for: "Get your shit together or you're fucked."

Of the 21 days, I worked 18. I had only 3 days of break for the past 3 weeks.

I think it's not fair of him to say the heat has not been turned on yet. As far as I can see, I have turned on my own heat.

BUT I SIMPLY JUST DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO ANYMORE.

I don't know if I am allowed to work independently or at my own pace anymore. I don't know who I should speak to for this and that, I don't know if I can approach so-and-so for this or that.

Heck, I am too shy even to drink the bloody tea/coffee. -___-'

I don't know what to do anymore, and I am not sure of my place anymore, and for this, I feel helpless and stupid and angry and frustrated and depressed.

I wish I KNEW WHAT TO DO. I WISH SOMEONE WOULD TELL ME.

But looks like nobody will. I'm scared. What if at the end of six months they tell me: Hey, by the way, sorry, you're too mediocre to be here. Go back to where you were.

If they do, there is a rope that has my name on it.

It's been three weeks since I last blogged

F-it.

What the heck is wrong with me? Am I losing my need to regale my three readers with every aspect of my life? Am I dusty? Am I losing it? It being my sanity?

T-T

I think those bimbo blogs have had an effect on me. By blogging everyday about themselves, they put me off blogging about myself. Next thing you know my blog will be pink and take 40 minutes to load. *shudder*

But I digress.

So what's been up with me, you ask?

Urm. A sorta-failed outing. A new job (soon). A realisation. The discovery that will end world hunger. Cure to cancer.

(It's zombies. Zombies are dead, and hence, cannot get cancer. And so turning everyone into zombies will solve everything. Zombies don't kill other zombies, either. So that ends crime. Zombies don't need money, don't need food or water - they like eating brains but don't really NEED it to survive, I mean, they're DEAD - and they don't commit adultery, incest or other such sins. Since they also cannot talk, they cannot lie or backstab. Zombies rawk.)

A failed (?) outing

Supposed to go out and makan, but last minute V-dearest kena stomach ache. I upset. Then Bra-man kena fever again (he kena earlier but he recovered then kena again yes I know I can so be a Doctor kthxbai) and left me and Jeembie to roam the streets of KL, eating brains and popcorn.

He likes the brains of hobos, beggars and the occasional crazy Uncle. I have infinitely higher tastes and I enjoy me a Datuk. Eh wait f-it, they have NO brains so what the heck was I eating - Oh.

Right. Akhem. Moving on.

So it was fun, actually. Really fun. Jeembie was missing his Bromance with Bramance (er, Braman) so he felt a bit bummed out. I would object and say 'Am I not good enuff company?' but I realise that no man or woman can come between the power of a Gaming Bromance. Hur hur hur hur. So it's cool.

But it WAS fun - it's the most time I've spent and talked to Jeembie since, well, ever. And we watched Avatar in 3D oso, and it was beeyootiful max. Bought a few books (by a few I mean a lot, and by bought I mean I charged it to Hell's Card) and added to my tower of tumbling books in my room.

iLove Books *happy sigh*

iDon'tLove Credit Card Bills. *gnashing and wailing*

Anyhoooos.

Am the totally waiting for lunch now, so I'll continue my incredibly entertaining insight into Zombie-ism and Life soon enough. You're going to be so proud of me Zenzei!

Re: Your Brains

Heya Tom, it's Bob, from the office down the hall.

Good to see you buddy, how've you been?
Thing have been O.K. for me except that I'm a zombie now.
I really wish you'd let us in.
I think I speak for all of us when I say I understand
Why you folks might hesitate to submit to our demand.
But here's an FYI: you're all gonna die screaming.

All we wanna do is eat your brains.
We're not unreasonable, I mean, no one's gonna eat your eyes
All we wanna do is eat your brains.
We're at an impasse here, maybe we should compromise:
If you open up the doors
We'll all come inside and eat your brains.

I don't want to nitpick, Tom, but is this really your plan?
Spend your whole life locked inside a mall?
Maybe that's OK for now but someday you'll be out of food and guns,
Then you'll have to make the call.
I'm not surprised to see you haven't thought it through enough.
You never had the head for all that bigger picture stuff.
But Tom, that's what I do, and I plan on eating you slowly.

All we wanna do is eat your brains.
We're not unreasonable, I mean, no one's gonna eat your eyes.
All we wanna do is eat your brains.
We're at an impasse here, maybe we should compromise:
If you open up the doors
We'll all come inside and eat your brains.

I'd like to help you Tom, in any way I can.
I sure appreciate the way you're working with me.
I'm not a monster Tom, well, technically I am.
I guess I am...

Got another meeting Tom, maybe we could wrap it up?
I know we'll get to common ground somehow.
Meanwhile I'll report back to my colleagues who are chewing on the doors
I guess we'll table this for now
I'm glad to see you take constructive criticism well
Thank you for your time I know we're all busy as hell
And we'll put this thing to bed
When I bash your head open

All we wanna do is eat your brains
We're not unreasonable, I mean, no one's gonna eat your eyes
All we wanna do is eat your brains
We're at an impasse here, maybe we should compromise:
If you open up the doors
We'll all come inside and eat your brains

(Jonathan Coulton - Re: Your Brains)

Of Some Things Here and There

So HS, Lord of Darkness, caught my eye with his MSN status message:

"I believe that suffering in this world is a constant. The more you suffer, the less I have to."

And it makes a twisted sense, it does. It works the same with happiness as well. Case in point: Politicians - The more money they cheat us (the ordinary people) off, the more happy they are. But since it's our money they're taking, we are, hence, sad.

It makes a whole lot of sense, especially when you start applying this constant to every part of your life. Except for good friends and family, because those guys share your happiness and sadness.

So it got me to thinking.

Sometimes in life you do things that make you have the sads so you can give someone else the happies. (vice versa also) In this act, you balance out the sads and happies in the world. Of course, the balance is purely on the one to one basis la. Global sads and happies are in Chapter 10 of this lesson.

Back to the topic at hand.

So my sads are of work. I do things which make me sads, hoping to make someone happy. But that someone became angry, and I still haven't heard of HS's theories on THAT. (Maybe the Angries of the world is balanced by the Don't Care-ness?)

So I have even the more sads, but for this, I am sure someone, SOMEONE is having the happies. A lot of happies. I have my suspicions, but I have decided to sit out on this.

So I move away from my sads, and thus, I am happy. This means someone will have the sads. But at this point, I don't care anymore la.

So ya. Like that la.

And this is the last (I promise) time you will see (read) my bitch about my work, my job and such. I've decided to Be A (Wo)Man and Do The Right Thing. So I am going to do my best for the next one-and-half months and then move on to fresh beginnings and a new slate.

Here's to my Happies.