torn

I’ve changed.

I’m turning into the corporate slut the stifling Singapore working environment forces you to become. I talk about work all the time. I no longer ask others “How are you?” rather “How’s work?” It infuriates me, but increasingly I’m becoming one of them, sucked into the spiral of unending toil.

I talk about work, but I hate it when others ask me about work. I hate it when the first thing I come home, someone asks “How’s work?” because they don’t understand that’s the last bloody thing I want to talk about. Work. I don’t get adequate quality sleep anymore, and I don’t get to hang out aimlessly in Degraves sipping coffee. I don’t have meaningful conversations at home any longer because the subject is always centred on what projects I’m working on or who I’m seeing at the moment.

Speaking of which, some of you might have been led to believe I’m going to be S E R I O U S in 2009. In truth, that statement was made in the light of a spate of weddings. It’s hard to stomach a past flame married and with a kid, no wait, a couple of kids. It’s even harder to swallow the pride, trust me. Hence, that position statement was born in a fit of jealously.

But no no, after some good, albeit rueful thinking, there is little that indicates anything S E R I O U S is going to happen. I’m not prepared to sacrifice or accommodate now. That’s not to slam any windows shut, no, I think you all know me better.

They say that the workplace should not become a playground for relationships. I concur wholeheartedly. One of my colleagues stays up late with this girl I can only imagine he fancies, helping her and encouraging her. All I say is I D I O T, get a life, you’re just a tool! Somehow you’re always able to sense who fancies you (whom you can take advantage of) and who doesn’t. And to me, that power negates the need for anything serious. Most people tell me “oh, you just haven’t met the one who truly love”. That’s bullshit – akin to praying 24/7 and not studying, yet expecting to do well for an exam.

I’ve met several interesting individuals and we might or might not take it from there. I’ll leave it as that. In any case, God first, career second, girl later – no money, no honey.


I’ve changed.

I love being a corporate slut because it takes me to where home is. It enables me blend in seamlessly with the rest of the workforce. I gain great self-satisfaction from swaggering around with my suitcase. When my friends talk about work, I don’t have to say “oh I’m still studying” and be ashamed of being a noob-ish mature aged student. Instead, I whip out a name card and hear the ooohs and aaahs. I’m able to afford clothes, but more importantly, I have an E X C U S E to buy clothes.

I don’t get much sleep, but frankly speaking, who needs sleep anyway? Given sufficient ventilation and good music, I could work till midnight everyday and claim for time off. I don’t speak much with my family, but I still get the weekends with them (if I’m not at work). I suppose given the current economic situations, it’s much better to have a job than not to have one. I love it that we have prayer meetings every Thursday during lunch. We sing hymns, have a short time of devotion and then pray. They speak in tongues but I don’t. Nevertheless, it’s encouraging to see God working within our practice.

The workplace is crammed with eye candy – edible eye candy. Ubiquitous relationship opportunities. They are all in power suits and capable of intellectual conversation – a definite turn on as far as I’m concerned. 99.999% of them are attached I think, but I’ll keep my resolution to not dissolve a relationship. For as long as possible. I’m a changed man. I’ll bide my time and wait for God to provide the right one. I know that sooner or later, she’ll waltz past me and blow me a couple of kisses and we’ll both be on cloud nine.

Seeing babes all around makes work so pleasant. Where else in the world can you de-stress within a ten metre radius?

I’ve met several interesting individuals and we might or might not take it from there. I’ll leave it as that. In any case, God first, get the girl second, impress her by being a high-flyer – no money, but at least there’s potential.


S C H I Z O P H R E N I C . . . hmmm, who shall I be today?