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read between the lines
pre-grad thoughts there's a lot on my mind tonight. which is not an unusual thing for me. but what is, is that there's so much that it makes me feel lazy to type it all out. and what's worse is i'm supposed to be doing my schoolwork right now, writing an article for my stupid assignment that's due tomorrow which got the get-go only yesterday night. but after...what has happened, i don't feel in the mood to write at all. write my article i mean. noooo......i haven't even bathed yet and it's 3 plus, simply because......oh my gosh, it's a long story. well it's a story that leads to another story that leads to another story. i know, because i just erased more than 2 paragraphs and i still haven't even got to the main point yet. so oh well. maybe i should call it quits for the day and work on my assignment tomorrow. or maybe i'll feel better when i bathe at this unearthly time. but then again i've been going fully nocturnal this week, since pri.nt journ piled all that last-minute shitload of articles on me. [i've decided to put a full-stop in-between 'pri' and 'nt' because i know if i don't this stupid thing is gonna come up on technorati again and i'll be one more screwed blogger.] irregular sleeping times. and my record time of not sleeping the whole night until 10am the next day was forged during this week too. (even then i only slept 10am-12pm only to wake up to slave some more.) previously the latest i'd ever stayed up was 6am. and i thought that'd be a one-off thing, the late nights, the crazy sleeping hours, the weird bathing time, the process of rushing around singapore interviewing people at the last minute like a mad fool, but apparently i was wrong. it lasted the whole week..right until tonight. and i don't know how much longer it will last because the nature of this thing is such that it is so hard to tell. i think tonight i know for sure i will never be a journalist. not over my dead body will you find me running around, chasing people, wasting taxi fare to go from one end of singapore to another (thank god it isn't as big a country as malaysia and the taxi uncles are generally honest about their fares unlike here), concocting stories in the dead of the night, meeting tight deadlines, facing stress, fatigue and sleep, doing all this....as a lifetime job. at least while i have my sanity i know i won't do it. emotion may cloud reason and leave me feeling otherwise...but, for now, i just can't see myself doing all that AND being a good christian (by being able to have sufficient quiet time with god, having time for god's people, etc.) AND not feeling either so stressed out or burned out that i don't want to kill myself with multiple papercuts. as my interviewee (and, as it turns out, my new-found friend) pointed out to me earlier after our talk, it's not the writing that i hate, rather it's the super-tight deadlines that i hate. and he said something like what's work without that? erm...please don't tell me all jobs have to be like this. i'm sure there's a way out of this while being able to put food on the table somehow... this, coming from an inexperienced, innocent pre-grad like me. i wonder what i will make of this post when i'm much older. blame my parents for forbidding me to work, not even part-time during my hols. sometimes i think they do this on purpose just so i can come out young and stupid into the working world, thinking it will make me go back to them for milk. which i will not, for as long as i can help it. that is one thing i vow never to do once i start working. even if it means i might have to sleep on the streets (anyway i can never believe god would be so cruel as to let me), i will not come back to them for help. because i know they expect me to. and they want me to. and i am just so extremely sick of being smothered by my parents' suffocating, controlling mechanism which some point-justifying friends term as "love". and if i can, i will stop this cycle once and for all and either be a better parent or not have kids at all, so they don't have to suffer like i do. i guess the thing that really gets to me is not really that my parents set down so many rules that i am not supposed to break, but rather the way they tell me that really pisses me off. they order me as if i'm some slave prisoner of theirs and it's their right that i should be ordered around, since i was born into this...this slavery. the way they say it, it's always first a NO and when i ask further, it's usually a there-is-no-reason-why-it-should-be-a-no-and-no-it's-not-negotiable dictatorial kind of ruling. i can understand if this was instated upon a 5-year-old. but a person hitting adulthood like me? i hate it. it makes me feel oppressed. and no matter how many times i try to explain to them that i am a human being as well and i need to be communicated to instead of talked down to, they still do it their way. such is the old-fashioned way of thinking. not even will they stop to consider or admit that they could be wrong in the way they deal with these things. and this is just the tip of the iceberg of what i wanted to say. but then again, how is it possible to pour out several years of pent-up frustration, grief and anger in just one post? |
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