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March 01, 2005

Lament

Lament It was a run-of-the-mill Monday evening when one was simply glad that arguably the worst day of the week had flown past (sometimes in a blur) and what was left of it was there to indulge. I was sandwiched amongst heaps of bodies on the peak-hour bus, which was sandwiched amongst heaps of cars on the peak-hour road. It would not be an appropriate time to think about how only a week before, I was cruising down the Albany Highway at 120 km/h and admiring the scenic views all around. It would certainly induce chronic depression.

After a hearty (but heart-damaging) dinner of hor fun, I settled down to my computer to start a normal “work-night” for me, which simply meant playing games to kill time or until my brain surrendered from exhaustion. And so it happened, she was still online and was stuck in the office until her knight-in-shining-armour (also known as her dad) could pick her up.

I was telling her about my day and the highlights of it. I was filling her in on how one director at work was trying his best to convince me that the movements involving me to another department (also known as the hellhole which saw 4 resignations in the space of half a year) was for “the better” and another director who wanted to have a chat with me to unofficially suss me out just because I expressed my interest in applying for a post in his department. The former was polite and amicable in trying to convince me something which was not too different from a blind man persuading a bloke with perfect eyesight that the colour of the sky in fine weather was not blue. Needless to say, I left his office more convinced than ever that the hellhole would probably make me officially an inpatient of Woodbridge Hospital. Such is my fate.

After listening (or reading, since we were conversing on ICQ) intently to me, it was typical of her to blurt something out to shake me up. Apparently, she had been rummaging through her stuff and somehow she came across stuff that I passed to her during the height of our first (but unsuccessful) courtship. There I was wondering why women had this uncanny ability to dig out the past and bring it up. Yet, this was more of a bittersweet thing than anything else when she remarked how different I was then. What she saw were a small stack of photos that featured yours truly back in those days when I still had yet to get over the fact that I was an overseas undergraduate pursuing arguably the course of my dreams. It was not surprising that for someone in my position, his smile would be wider and his gestures to the camera suggested that his mind was free of stress and cares of the world. It was obvious enough for her to comment how she had never seen me smile like that for as long as she could remember.

It was one of those bittersweet moments of my life and to help me remember this forever, I am writing this down now for posterity sake. Simply because it highlights and epitomizes the laments I have for and with my life.

Needless to say, I have no burning desire to see those photos.

Posted by D W at March 1, 2005 10:51 AM