The Ego Episodes

Saturday, Jul. 26, 2003

You're In The Middle Of The Ride

I know. Go on, throw some hard object (a pen/durian/couch/anything lethal) at me. That's what I get for suddenly disappearing for more than a week without leaving at least a note to let you know that I'm still here. Swamped. And in dire need of inspiration. (To all those I owe an email to, you'll hear from me soon.)

I feel like I have lost my touch in online journalling. (Work with me here. Let's assume that I have some sort of "touch" to begin with.) I have many things to tell but spending, or even thinking of spending, an hour or two of transforming daily events into an entry sucks out what energy is left in me after getting off an 8 am to 5:30 pm shift.

Every Industrial Attachment (IA) student goes through a phase like this, I guess. The first week is basically for adjusting your body clock to conform to your work schedule. You realize that if the company wanted you to come at 8 am, and you have to travel for about 1.5 hours, then logically, you have to wake up at 5:30 am and be at the bus stop by 6:30 am. Then at the bus stop, you look around and see -- no one. Of course. Who would be up at this unearthly hour? Krrring! Rrrringgg! Oh, here's one fellow taking his bike for a very early run.

"Yohooo! Hoo! [whistling at you]Whoot-woo![/whistling at you]," greets the creep. You pretend you didn't hear anything and after making sure that he's far, far away, you stop being scared and curse the prick in your mind.

It's dark and no one's around. You wait but can't stop feeling a little bit paranoid. You make a note to yourself: BUY. PEPPER. SPRAY.

You reach your destination with a sufficiently alert state of mind -- thanks to early morning shows on the radio. And thanks to Jimmy Eat World! It was almost impossible to resist getting up and doing the headbanging thing -- you do not want to be strangled by passengers wishing to recover some lost sleep in the morning. People who suffer from Sleepus Interruptus are bound to get cranky. It's best to avoid them.

You do your work with the help of a thermos flask full of sugarless coffee but still, you keep on dozing off every now and then, especially at 4 pm. At 5:30 pm, you're estatic to hear the bell that says, "Yes, you can go now. You did well, pig." That's right. You leave the office picturing that tall farmer patting a Babe version of you.

There's only one thing out of this uneventful day -- shopping (like of course!). You go down to MRT stations and check out the malls that you haven't explored yet, inevitably confirming your Shopaholic "Need Intense Counselling and Monitoring" Status. By 8:30 pm, you've bought several clothing items, to each of which you had applied the logic that you need more office clothes, which is not necessarily valid at all times. Side note: A shopaholic makes up reasons to buy and acquire things for the sake of buying and acquiring things. How do I know that? Go figure.

High from all that shopping, you realize you haven't had your dinner. Your stomach had no qualms about it so you assumed it would be satisfied with just something from Breadtalk. Ah, there's Moshi Mushroom. Oooh, Berries in Cream! Reminding you so much of Dunkin Donuts, you make a mental note: Berries in Cream, why didn't they name you Berry Creamy, Berry Good. Heh. It's corny. And there goes the durian projectile.

That's basically my life for the next six months. Exciting, huh? Well, work is work. I remain optimistic. This is like a preview of my life after graduation. I don't know if I can stand doing this kind of work for the rest of my life. My work requires motivation, that drive to think of solutions that work. Do I have it? I'm about to find out.

It just takes some time, little girl
You're in the middle of the ride
Everything, everything will be just fine
Everything, everything will be all right, all right
-- Jimmy Eat World (they rule!)

{ joycie at 11:39 p.m.}