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.

Of all things neither here nor there

So it's been not at all long since my last post and you're all probably bored of me by now. Don't worry, I'm bored of me too. It happens.

But because I am a narcissistic and self-indulgent creature of impulses and emotion, I shall regale you with tales of backbone aches, work and my impending alcoholism. Because, you know, I roll like that mah.

(Please note that there is some amount of alcohol left in my bloodstream as I am typing this, so if what I say is a bit out of character then please, do strap me in a straightjacket and lock me way from the sweet temptress called BEER)

I am also suffering from a backache la, so I am just going to be an all-round whiny bitch la.

Nights Out of Home: 3/5

I've not been back for dinner almost this entire week, so mommy and daddy are giving me funny, somewhat hurt looks. Trust me Mom & Dad, I want to be home too, but sometimes I need to see the world outside of the four walls of my home.

That being said I miss going early to bed. And eating hot dinner with my family. And eating Daddy's cooking. And being home to watch the telly with my Dad, or tease my Mom.

But I also need to get out. Sometimes I feel like my skin is too tight and I want to escape from whatever invisible binds that hold me together.

Because I am someone always needing to be in control, I want to lose control even more badly than any normal human being. Sometimes I want to push my own boundaries and see what happens. I want to throw caution to the wind and do something so stupid I will never ever do it again or failing that, die trying.

But at the same time I am the scared puppy with the tail tucked between the legs, growling and showing ineffectual teeth. It's like being on two extreme ends of things, and neither is plausible but both are very much lusted for.

I think I may lose my mind just re-reading that sentence above.

I think YOU have lost respect for me reading that sentence above. Hur hur.

But if you've ever had the urge to do something you know you shouldn't do, you'd know how it feels.

Staring out into the crowd at Beer Factory in Sunway Giza yesterday, and seeing my colleagues (they're friends too) having a great time on three towers of Carlsberg (I hung out in Hoegaarden with Stella), I had an epiphany brought on by one and a half pints of Stella Artois:

"This is what adults do eh? It's nice. It's really nice."

Not so much the drinking. It's the whole experience that comes with having a few pints with friends and colleagues. Beer is only the liquid that greases the conversation, helps loosen the tongue and frees us from our taut lives for just a short while.

Added to that good company and great people, who could ask for more? Its not about what you're doing, it's who you're with while you're doing it. This same principle applies to sex, movies, dinner and gaming. (Bad game? Bad movie? Who cares? It's with someone you like and enjoy being around!)

So yeah. I may have overshot my budget a bit, but it was worth it. I needed to laugh at anything and everything, because when you've got a few pints in you, everything anyone says is funny as hell.

The very funny people I know; all ex-MT - L to R: Ivan's arm with ciggarette, Eliza (who was in sales in MT 3 yrs ago), Terrence, former sales and marketing manager, Kiru, best person ever who was our uni-coll exec, and Michan, Kiru's BF.

Former intern Alvin, CK (who was our IT guy now in S'pore working), and LJ. Who is in a weird pose. But it was good to see him, since I missed out on his housewarming shindig.

Aaaaand the whole gang. Malas want to intro edy. Lol.

Yeah, so the whole bunch of kaki botol came out to the watering hole, and I enjoyed my time with them like madness. So what if I have to drink and be a total 'eat my words'? I think it's a small price to pay to get to know people outside of work situations.

Because Lord knows sometimes it's so hard to just get up everyday.

Nights in Pain from Backbone

I sleep in the worst position one can imagine - foetal, back curled, blankets pulled up to the neck, chin nearly touching chest. I think it's a defense mechanism in case the Boogeyman (or Kakaman) comes to get me. He will take one look at me, declare me an insecure child with low self-esteem (because 'em psychiatrists say that ppl who sleep in foetal position are insecure and unhappy people, and we ALL know those guys are always right, pfft, shyeah, right) and then leave me unharmed.

Yeah.

So I have bad posture too, I hunch over my computer like an old grandmother, so one day, upon returning home, I bent over to wash my hands on the sink and felt this stabbing, burning pain in my lower back.

I was immobilised for ten seconds. Very bad juju.

So now it still aches, even though its been over a week, and the more I go around the more it hurts. I think I need my spine-readjusting.

(insert pun joke about being spineless here)

I need to change something in my life so I may sleep with my arms at my sides, CONFIDENT and SELF-ASSURED even when I am asleep. CAN ANYONE ACTUALLY SLEEP CONFIDENTLY? YOU TELL ME. WTF.

Anyways. It is the aching now, so I'm just going to insert one long GROAN in this post.

GGGGGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNN.

Having Dinner with Friends

Did, however, manage to have dinner with Bra Man and JE some days back. It was great, and awesome, and it was then that I watched Inception la. Bloody good movie. Made me think. I need to think or my brain may degenerate further ok.

Didn't manage to catch the couple, though, of V and K. Sigh.

Yeah anyway this drivel has gone on for too long. Bye now.

The Times, They Are A-Changing

It's like pulling a band-aid.

Rip it out quick, and rip it out fast. So what if it hurts like a bitch. What's gotta go, gotta go. And this, THIS, has got to go. It hurts like a bitch (we've established THAT) but yeah well. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

And this girl has got to go. Go where? Back to the Sun Priestess.

There and Back Again: A Writer's Tale, by Pauline Wong

Odd, isn't it. I was going through my blog archives at random and landed on the post I wrote when I was preparing to enter into my internship at theSun. I was talking about how I wanted the Stars but I ended up with The Sun instead. Sun Priestess at that time was the HR exec (who no longer works there) and she was nice.

Two years can change someone so much.

In two years I've learnt that hard work sometimes gets you nowhere. I no longer respect or want to work with The S**r. In two years, I have seen how everything goes to hell when levels of dedication don't match. I've faced people who work like yo-yos, I've dealt with nice people and bad people, I know that sometimes being honest is going to ruin you, and worse: That people are suspicious and no, they do not trust you.

Trust is dead in the working world, and for anyone reading this (here's looking at the three of you, lol) TRUST IS NOT AN OPTION in the working world. People stab you at all times, and you stab people too sometimes, whether you meant to or not.

So now I go back to where I began. Back to where I realised I loved Journalism. Back (hopefully) to where I was once looking forward to completing my studies and foraging into the big, bad, frustrating yet exciting and interesting world that is Journalism.

Somewhere in between I had lost myself, and my love for it. I am now hoping to find it back. Because I need to. Desperately. Writing is the only thing I've ever done well and loved doing and if that is taken from me I will be a hollow shell.

(well technically I can't be a hollow shell thanks to my tendency to eat too much and vegetate in front of the computer but allow me some melodrama please? yes? thanks.)

So I sit here, typing away at my blog, waiting for some information to come in from a client. It's slow, and I was just told to buck up and contribute more by someone who seems to have forgotten I practically put the paper together, albeit rather clumsily and with too much naivety.

But it's water under a bridge. I need not deal with it anymore.

Come October, I am leaving for better prospects. And as far as anyone knows, thats why I am leaving.

And On a More Personal Level...

I dreamed of something that I regretted ever waking up from. It was so simple - a hug. Just a hug, and the words: "You're going to be alright." Who the hug was from was more important than the words, but at that moment my dream-heart was relieved - maybe I AM going to be alright even though I am foraging into uncharted (sort of) waters. That I am going to be okay no matter how much I will have to give up when I leave my current job.

Then my eyes went and opened themselves and first thing I thought was DAMN, NO, COME BACK.

But it's a dream right? Whisps. Mists. Flits away when reality comes crashing over you again.

I hate reality.

And Speaking of Dreams...

INCEPTION is the best goddamn movie of the year.

It is like Christopher Nolan has this checklist of things that mindfuck with moviegoers

- Gravity defiance

- WOBBLE

- BWOOOOONNGG

- Cillian Murphy, Joseph Gordon Levitt

- MINDFUCKERY DOODLE DOO

- AWESOME COOL

- Han Zimmer

- BLINK-and-YOU'LL-MISS-IT keyplots

Well-played, Mr Nolan. Well- played. If you haven't seen it, please do. If you've seen it, please drop a comment here and we'll mull it over. Yeah. For the record also, Cillian Murphy's EYES GOOD LORD HAVE YOU SEEN HIS BLUE EYES.

It totally turns the tables on the kind of CRAP movies we seem to be getting these days. It has all the elements of a classic: Mind-boggling stuff, edge of the seat excitement, FLAWLESS execution of plot, timing, pacing and music...

It is a troper dream come true, please visit it's trope page at www.tvtropes.org.

For a serious movie lover, its ORGASMIC stuff. Go. Click. GO.