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February 25, 2005

"What a difference a day makes..."

Just when I thought that things would definitely turn out better as I progressed towards the weekend, I received a kick in the teeth in the form of four simple words.

“ur application been rejected”

For someone wanting so desperately to avoid going into a situation which has all the hints of a career suicide, that sounded like the last chance saloon just disappeared over the horizon without me, or that the door which would give me salvation just slammed shut in my face.

I do not really know how and why I have become the pawn in the political chess game involving people with bigger paychecks and egos. I do not really know why I have become the convenient and caged sacrifice. Will a heightened sense of alertness as in knowing the political pulse in the hellhole help me in avoiding this debacle? Or should I have bugger it all and become the bloke at work everyone loves to hate simply because he decides to employ tactics, orthodox or otherwise, to get into the upper-ups’ good books?

Sometimes I wonder why, on God’s good earth, I placed so much emphasis on being a principled person, a man of integrity. I should have known that nice people rarely finish the race coming in first. I have seen with my very own eyes how people got whatever they wanted from their career employing unethical and ruthless tactics. Or that there were some who got promotions and pay rise just by sitting pretty and using their mouths more than their hands?

Am I bitter? Yes. I am bitter with myself. If not for the sustenance of the pills, I would probably be staggering into the clinic once more and declare to the doctor that I was feeling suicidal once more.

2003 was bad enough. 2004 was worse. Two months into 2005, I faced with a crisis which would break (rather than make) my career. So it is not surprising that while analyzing the trend, I am tempted to avoid thinking about what the rest of 2005 or even 2006 will hold for me. So it is not surprising that just a few moments ago, a voice inside my head whispered to me that I might as well die than go through another year of torture.

What have I done to deserve this?

Frankly speaking, I don’t know. Maybe I am evil beyond God’s imagination that punishing me year after year with things like this is the intention. Maybe I have sinned too much for His comfort.

And really, if I cannot help myself out of this right now, other than to simply face the shit flying out from the fan head on or to grit my teeth as they are being kicked, no one will. In times like these, I wished I was never born.

***

Let’s talk about things you consider beautiful for a change. What would you consider as beautiful in this world?

You sure you want me to talk about that?

Sure. It’s better than those things rolling along in your head.

Ok. As much as I feel weak at the sight of it, I think the most beautiful thing in this world that my pair of eyes will ever lay on will be the sight of blood dripping from my wrist.

Why will you call it beautiful? Of all the sights you have seen in the 30 years of your life, surely this is more morbid than beautiful?

Not when your life gets worse and things get ugly as you grow older. The death of a life, your own life, you despise is anything but ugly. Mind you, there were times when I could picture in my head, my sprawled and wasted body at the foot of my apartment block when I look out and down from the balcony of my flat. Just now, the scene of my hand and the blood oozing out of it slowly came to me.

Er… Thanks.

You’re welcome.

***

And so this will be how I will approach the weekend, or what will be left of it. Work beckons on Sunday itself. To those who are concerned enough to remind me of how I have been putting on weight, they will probably be pleased to know that I have not been eating as much as I would like to. To those who have commented about how much darker those rings around my eyes are will be pleasantly surprised by the number of hours of rest I have every night. To those who believe that watching football is an anti-social and annoying activity, even during the wee hours of the morning, I can no longer be arsed about how well my favourite team was doing in the Champions League or that it would be playing for a decent trophy in a final this coming weekend.

Maybe I am pitying myself too much. Surely this is not the end of the world? Surely there will be someone, even if there is just one, who admires you enough to hire you. Surely a miracle is just hanging around the corner. Just keep on going, approach it and it will spring on you and you will feel like the happiest employed bloke in the world again. If those tabloid stories of how a humble hawker can win the recent 4D jackpot are to be believed, surely you are at least deserving of a miracle where you will receive a call from a prospective employer in, say, a few hours’ time?

I was feeling better yesterday because of the hope I got in the morning. I had some appetite and even went on a little hunt for that elusive sugarfree Polo candy (which I got reacquainted with during my recent holiday). And last evening, I did well enough not to snap at my dear old mother when she said enough things to irritate me. And having gotten the blokes down to perform regular service of the aircon, I was rubbing my hands with glee that I would be sleeping in a nice and cool room during the night.

At least now, I no longer need to bring my mobile everywhere with me and look at it to check for missed calls or SMS messages which could signify an invitation for an interview, or words like “we will like to offer you this job”. Now, there is no longer the need to check the phone as if my life depended on it.

And really, it will only take less than a second for me to volunteer a reply if anyone were to ask whether I would be inclined to live this life all over again.

Posted by D W at February 25, 2005 03:16 PM