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| i was watching this awesome youtube video of smashing pumpkins, performing their song 1979 live.
then i had one of those sunday evening senile moments where i wonder why things are the way they are.
my brother was unfortunate enough to be online, so i threw one at him
"eh why the hell weren't we ever in a bank?"
"like, a rock bank"
in my haste, i subconsciously typed "bank". i'd also already hit enter, so what's to do but to try again.
*bank*--> Enter; wtf? fool me twice, shame on me!
*bank*--> Enter; not cool. seriously.
*band*--> Enter; there! but what's it worth now anyway? >.<
i guess i answered my own question.
curse you real life, curse you! | | |
| The eleventh hour had come, there was no escape, no intervention, no squire bursting through the door panting that the Emperor has granted the pardon. Instead, the door opens too easily, and he is led in, unrestrained but understanding.
The walk down the corridor is quiet. Those in their cells look on, almost pitying, almost asking for pity. The chains grate, but quietly, on the blood-stained floor, wearing both ways. Soon the chains will be free of him, he muses aloud. Nobody laughs. They never get the joke.
Barely has he given thought about his own stupidity when he realizes the corridor has ended. No dancers in the dark, no merry warden breaking into song. His armed guard frowns and gestures ahead, unforgiving to the last.
The chair beckons to him, seems to reach out to him.
"There you are!" the chair mocks merrily, and the prim looking lady next to it echoes with a sinister grin "Not easy getting you here, the fight finally left you eh?!"
He grunts, and the prim (grim?) lady scoffs almost politely.
"Anyways, sit your ass down. I'll make it quick." The neck restraints were on instantly, the grim lady having perfected her craft. He clenches his fists but doesn't move to protect himself. "I'm sure you know better" her words sharp. He holds his breath and thinks artificially happy thoughts, being unable to conjure up properly blissful scenes under duress.
He thinks of ice-cream on a warm summer's night, watching Macgyver on tv make shit out of food.
------------------------------------------------------------
"There you go. Almost like a whole makeover no?" cheerily as the cloth is gently whisked from his neck, and he gasps fresh air.
Neither he nor his wife was amused at the result, but at least, him relieved it's over, her glad it wasn't her hair. On the way out, the other prisoners give their sympathies, and drop some hair gently at his feet.
"See you in a few months!" the grim voice trails off behind, and he shivers.
"No need laaa, I'll cut your hair next time k?" wife whispers in his ear, a cold metal against his throat.
He smiles meekly. "Let's go for dinner, love" | | |
| so many things have consequences. everything competes for attention. colleagues + work. family + friends. investment + consumption.
no i'm not giving up on the rat race and life, but i do wonder how people get by for so many years. loved ones? loved jobs? loved belongings? or hated ones, hated jobs, hating everything?
is it a curse, or a privilege, that continuous studying has become a part of working life? on one hand, it is amazing that the betterment of oneself has become something that is normal (and not so amazing when it's required). on the other, it also means less time for everything else. what gives?
also noticed that most people are (still) obsessed with filling their time to the max, whether it's for work or play. is it the increased awareness of our mortality, or is it just a peer pressure thing, or is it just simply circumstances forcing people to schedule time that way? it's curious.
taking care of all parties and obligations while still taking the time to live the way we want.
maybe that's the reason. sounds like something worth living for, anyway. | | |
| Life is good =)
Work is super busy, which in current London-speek means "yay i still have a job and a valid visa - for now". My employer has fired enough people that there is now enough carpark space to drive in 5 days a week (it used to be 4 days, and the office has had 2000 staff). I wonder how long I'll last at this place, and if I didn't, would it really be a bad thing? I'll never really be very sure. I used to take that things are really getting "slightly better" with all that "green shoots of recovery" nonsense. Until I spoke to my ex-coursemate, who regaled me about tales of doom and gloom in the City. People were still dying in <your choice of country here>,drought and famine is sprading. The pay rise and generous reduction in tax promised by <your local MP's name here> was not forthcoming.
Yessirree times are bad. One day at a time, failing to plan is planning to... nothing really.
My supervisor sent me to the station today (due to the trains failing - again). For the first time, I heard her go on for a full 10 minutes about how unhappy she is with the way things are going with her job. Honestly the faces people can put on at work are amazing, I wouldn't have known. I can only hope things get better everywhere.
I also just found out something really shocking - Towers Perrin and Watson Wyatt are merging! The two powerhouses of actuarial services, combining to kick numerical ass with all the enthusiasm of two actuaries doing their thing... providing a better guesstimate than the very best of estimates. I personally think it's really exciting. Really! :D
Almost deleted an e-mail from a friend without reading it - only because it was titled in mandarin, which I incidentally read occasionally with great difficulty (dim sum menu, with English translations overleaf). Actually, the reason I almost deleted it is because: a) mandarin titled e-mails that make it to my inbox has always been invariably spam. (english spam on the other hand, has tell-tale signs using key words like "Large, Longer, Lasting, ..." and various flattering adjectives. b) mandarin on its own is perfectly fine, but from what I read, the mandarin newspapers here are littered with translations of English names. They therefore often make absolutely no ^%@ing sense to me when read as is (which is the only level a shit user of the language like me can manage). It is infuriating that all I can do is to know the words but know not who got his/her ass kicked. Picture rights to proper ass-whoopings are expensive so there are seldom clues.
I've promised myself many years ago that I'd bring a Chinese dictionary (those half-brick sized ones in primary school) over here and go through it randomly occasionally. Obviously, I never have. I should, really.
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| trouble sleeping.
am reminded of the film "the machinist". an average film, but i'm reminded anyway. yes i've certainly done wrong, but it never keeps me awake at night. why now?
the fridge is empty. nothing to munch on. mmm.
the water is not boiling, i put the kettle off as i've had enough today anyway.
work is busy. life's good really. i believe that.
yet i wake up at night, usually 3 times, but mostly 2 around 12, 2 and 6. i awake without a startle, so as not to startle anybody, it would startle people if i woke with a startle no? but not once is that someone there, about to pounce in a flurry of violent activity. i wouldn't know if i worry about this at all actually.
i'm going to close my eyes. i'd have told anyone it's alright and it's just a bad phase. surely i can tell myself it's alright xD
it's probably just a bit too quiet, out here in East Croydon.
maybe i get one of those things that play ambient noises, like cars and police sirens and drunk people swearing in teh distance.
that would be nice. | | |
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