musings

Tomorrow Spring 2010 courses come out.

Then I get to pick classes for the last time in my educational career. And… I’m ambivalent. I’m highly highly ambivalent.

This might well mark the last year I’m in this country, the last year I get to be within a 6 hour flight of my friends and in the same time zone. THIS IS THE LAST FREAKING TIME I PICK CLASSES!!! If I don’t want to I never have to see the inside of a lecture hall again.

And I couldn’t care less.

For the first time in my life I can’t see past a month ahead. Can’t plan beyond May… it’s a little scary. Since I was 12 I’ve planned my life up to this point and then I guess my 12 year old self just thought it was too much planning and stopped. Or 22 to a 12 year old is just too big a number to comprehend. Probably thought I’d die of old age by then.

I’m at a point in my life that 12 year old Cass did not see coming. How scary is that? What now?

Stupidity is making the same mistake twice.

There was this hole that I dug. And I can almost feel myself being drawn back into it and falling back in.

Which, simply put. Is stupidity.

So I’m going to press the eject button now and hope that my emotions haven’t grown roots like a couch potato to a remote control.

—

I should seriously be doing some reading, or math problem sets, or even more importantly, my freaking cover letters and resumes. I need money and a job. I have motivation… some… a little. Ugh.

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Beans is coming to visit next weekend. I miss Beans. I know that I’m mad excited to see him, and it’ll be a let down cause let’s be honest, Beans you always kinda are. :-p. I say that with love. At least the REI sale was enough for me to be able to see you for about 10 mins.

—

ugh. stooopidity.

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My shift key and space bar does not work well, which is annoying if you have a lot of things to type up. (Good thing I got a new compootah!!!!! NEW COMPOOOTAH!!!!!!! IT’S COMING TODAY NEW COMPOOTAH!!!!!!)

Point being, I kinda survived having those two keys misfunction by changing my typing habits.

Cept now, the C key doesn’t quite work either. Which means when I sign my name it goes ‘ass’ backspace ‘ass’ backspace ‘CAss’ backspace ‘Cass’

—

the end.

… work. Do work Cass. DO WORK CASS. DO WORK WORK WORK WORK!

Fail.

Epic.

I want to go climbing. I saw new routes, a bunch of 5.7’s which is good. I need a refresher course. Nomph. I want to climb. I want to go camping. I want to be climbing and camping and not doing work.

Anyway, do you know what I really want to be doing? Betcha can’t guess.

… school we go.

I’m ambivalent. 

So far my packing has consisted of me seeing things around the house and thinking, “Hmm, that’s mine. I need that,” bringing said object up to my room and dumping it in a corner thinking, “Hmm, I’ll pack that nicely later.”

I have homework. I hate emails. I’m in MALAYSIA for goodness sake. You’re at DUKE! It’s not even the same universe. Why do I have homework?! NO!

I can’t really think past next Wednesday night and my flight. Usually I enter school year with some sort of expectation, some emotional well… anything towards the new year. Not now. 

I just want a job. 

Also, I want a blinding light to show me the right path for my future.

Thus far, my impression of my future is drastically different from what my parents’ impression is of what my impression is for my future. Huh?

The problem is, I’m pretty sure my natural instinct is to avoid being a leader/ a responsible human being at all cost. The thought of having people depend on me gives me a head ache and cold sweats. BUT for some strange and unknown reason, between my subconscious animal instinct, raw being type level and my conscious level, there is a middle level that keeeeeeeeeeps pushing me to take up roles of leadership and responsibility. I spend a lot of time talking this middle level down. My subconscious cries when this middle level acts up. And it acts up a lot.

That middle level is why I was in charge of 400 individual’s collective pool of money. Why I ended up planning a semi formal. And now why I’m in charge of organizing the details for the choir. It all reeks hideously of leadership. Ye-uck. 

Point being, right now, I’m having cold sweats again thinking about how to run this thing smoothly. I mean it’s been done before, it’s not a hard thing. But I just… am very aware of every single thing I do wrong. Or every inefficiency I cannot eliminate. I analyze and over analyze every action I take before I take it. Do you know how much hair loss that translates into?

My subconscious is seriously unhappy. It wants to spend Sunday mornings in bed watching re runs of Chuck. 

For the larger and greater point, I’m not naturally inclined to want to lead. My 4 years of college have proven that much to me. So as far as my natural subconscious, raw being is concerned, I want to have nothing to do with The Company. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. I want to be the kid that lives off the royalties without lifting a finger. I don’t want to spend nights analyzing and over analyzing every action making sure I see all the subtext, the facts, the possibly repercussions, alternate actions. (I’ve already made an erroneous move by not compartmentalizing my thoughts. See. Crap.) 

My conscious is well and capable of letting subconscious level run the show. I pretty much go with the flow. Middle level, however, thinks self torture is fun. It also happens to have the domineering personality most masochists have. 

DAMN YOU MIDDLE LEVEL, I WAVE MY FIST AT YOU!

Eggs. You always had to be careful with them. Hold on too tight and you’d crack them. Hold too loose and pretty soon they’re rolling off your palm, onto the floor, and making your rather stupid cat sick. Must be some sort of strange metaphor for life. Then again, he knew he had been staring a too hard at pie charts and flow charts and math charts and, well just generally working too much if all he could think of were eggs.

The egg in his palm felt fragile, like a cardboard box in the middle of a typhoon. Yet it felt strong. Before this egg was food, it was considered strong enough to host a life form. Wasn’t that worth something? He’d never ‘hosted’ any life form within him before and Angie had made it clear enough having someone else growing inside of you was not the most pleasant of experiences. Thus, eggs were strong. He was thinking about eggs again.

Jordan was leaving for college soon. Angie was having a fit packing and unpacking and packing, making sure everything would fit into the car. Everything Jordan owned, everything Jordan would need in case of emergency, and everything else that fell under the category of ‘just ’cause.’ It was testing the limits of their car. He had offered to help, but his aid would just disrupt the delicate balance of fan on the box on the fridge Angie had created.

Instead, he was inside thinking about eggs.

He knew he couldn’t hold on to them too tight, they’d crack. No one wants a cracked egg with runny yolk on their hands. Disgusting. But he couldn’t just let go could he. No really, he couldn’t. They’d fall and crack on the floor instead. Floors didn’t come with shock absorbing sponges. It’d be a mess. Always a mess. What a mess.

Jordan was only 18. But Jordan was 18. He’d been 18 once, he knew what 18 year olds did when given absolute freedom. College was absolute freedom. He’s seen the drinking and the partying. The romps with co-eds in darkened rooms and behind bushes and why not, the library stacks. He’d been 18. It was a mess. Not that he’d done any of those things, just a sip here, a dance there. Maybe stolen a kiss once or twice. But then he’d known well enough then. He knew what happened after romps with too much alcohol in the system. Jordan, well, he was just 18 wasn’t he?

He could hear Angie grunting against the weight of another box. He did offer to help. She did turn him down. He was too busy thinking about eggs anyway. The shells were relatively strong. He remembered his high school science experiment where the class had stacked as many text books as they could on halved egg shells. They had ooh-ed and ahh-ed at how much weight the seemingly fragile domes could handle. Eggs have deceptively strong shells. Upstairs, he heard muted expletives, followed by loud crashes. Jordan was still packing. Always at the last possible moment. But Humpty Dumpty was an egg wasn’t he? Look what happened to him.

He’d heard Angie crying softly last night as they lay with their backs touching. He pretended to be asleep. Really, what was there for him to say? It would only be two months until Fall Break. Jordan would be home then, back with a laundry bag filled with clothes unwashed and demanding to be fed. Two months was nothing. Two months was loose change. For the most part of their married lives, Jordan was the son and they had orbited around him. What happened now? They had been ‘three’ for so long, what did it mean to be a pair? Not that it really mattered. Two months was loose change.

Jordan promised he would call home every weekend. Not that he’d needed to hear Jordan’s voice every weekend. Of course not. It was just nice to know he wanted to call home. Nice to hear his voice.

He heard the car boot slam close which meant Angie was done. Which meant it was almost time to make the drive up to Boston. It was time. Sometimes there are occasions in life that need a drum roll, and all he got was the cat mewing at his feet. But really, this was no big deal. Loose change, two months. Just loose change.

When Jordan was 5, he came home from school one day crying. His face was a mess with dirt and dried tears and snoot. It was a face that would break any father’s heart. He wanted to teach the boy who’d made fun of his son a lesson, tell the little brat that “you know what? My son’s teeth are not oversized. They’re perfect.” He worried all night long and all morning about what that inconsequential little brat would tease Jordan about today. He’d worried up until the minute Jordan was back from school with the biggest, toothiest grin on his face. Apparently, Jordan had made friends with little inconsequential brat. Jordan and David were now soon to be roommates. Who knew.

Eggs. Just didn’t really know how to deal with them. From the moment you picked them off the shelf in the store to the moment you take ‘em out to be cooked, you’d worry. Too tight or too lose. It was hard to let go. Of eggs.

The cat mewed again. Sometimes, there are occasions in life that need a drum roll.

He cracked the egg, stirred in milk, added copious amounts of Tabasco sauce. Disgusting, but just how Jordan liked it.

“Jordan!” he yelled. “Breakfast is ready. Eat and let’s go.”

End.

Weeks of ignoring wordpress and suddenly I’m motivated to write. What’s with this deluge of words?

So after avoiding doing anything social/useful online for the past 3 months, Facebook and unread messages in Gmail have finally caught up to me. Not that I’m going to respond to any. For some strange reason I’m avoiding social responsibility like I would a H1N1 infected person. 

Sorry Hilary. I will web chat you in real life in about 2 weeks. I swear. You’ll see my face. 

Before I forget: Sooo cute!

It’s breakfast time and already my father is talking math/philosophy/whatever lah. I’m particularly uninterested since he knows and I know he lost the conversation a long time ago but as usual, when he’s right, he’s right. When he’s wrong, well, he’s right. And just because he wants to win the argument that Najib is a grood leader, which I didn’t even contest to begin with, that murdering Altantuya (he if did lah) was the right political move. Ex-croooooose me? 

I’m almost certain he knows this is a crap argument. But ego and all.

Anyway, I’m done with my internship. Anyone want to know about credit cards? I know more than the average human being about how credit card systems are run. I don’t know why. I don’t know if it’s necessary information, but here we are. 

~

Leaving on not-a jet plane in 2 weeks. Really? 2 weeks? Really? Senior year? NOT READY! NO MOUSE! NOOOOOO!!

~

Crap lar, he’s still talking. 

~

Still talking. 

~ 

My purpose is not his purpose. 

I need to use the toilet sooooo baaaad.

Somehow he’s spun his original words so that by redefinition he’s right and I’m wrong. Aih…

~

I want to go shopping. Anyone with fashion sense want to go with me? I really really really need a makeover. As in, this 22 year old needs someone to teach her how to dress. HELLO HELP!

~

3 Issues together is not one. Use first principle… what? Oh yeah. Still talking. And I still need to go to the bathroom. Now we’re talking about software… and the company… and urh? 

~ 

Originally, this was going to be a good legit post about my internship experience. My thoughts on the recent political issues. My thoughts on the upcoming senior year. And now… this flow of thought non sense chronicling how re-don-key-lous my mornings are. 

~ 

I’m going to stop now, cause he’s now talking about the future of the company. I have no idea what he’s saying any more. “yes, pa. yes.” “yes, pa yes.”

Aiyoh, so slow. Internet like snail. At least it’s working right? Why do I feel as if I’m currently living in the past… must be the dial-up-type speed of my connection.

Other things that are slow. Today’s day long seminar. Slow. So so slow. SO so so so so sososososo you get my drift yah SLOW! Sorry Miss Lecturer/High ranking manager person, you were funny, but you were also so loh soh. I’d appreciate your humor if it meant I got to go back on time/early. But no. So in the end? Slow! Didn’t help that I already spent 2 weeks learning all there is to see about Financial Settlement and card application and chargeback and yawn.

I feel like my personality is slowly dying. I keep hearing my friends say “oh Cass we were just talking about you! And when you… (insert how I did something really stupid unintentionally/said something funny unintentionally)” I haven’t opened my mouth in days. It’s like being on a silent strike for no reason. Maybe I’ll adopt one… like… like… aih. I think my personality fly away already.

I kinda won something and I want to laugh about it and pretend like I don’t care but actually I do just a little… but no friends. Sad right?

Guys, I’ll be back Stateside in a bit.

I’ve lost count of the days. Yesterday, I finished my last rat. Who will I talk to now? Tom Hanks had a volleyball… I ate mine days ago. Or has it been years? I’ve lost count of the days.

Oklah, work isn’t that bad. But thank God time never stops moving. That fact is something I cling onto, my only hope for retaining what measly sanity I have left after the working day. Time never stops moving. 6pm will come. Eventually. Eventually.

Lessee… I’ve watched Card Maintenance, I’ve seen the financial calculations, I’ve drooled barrels of saliva. 

Right now I’m designing 3 programs to make people spend money. It’s the funnest thing i’ve done so far. And yes, it’s going to do wonders for my CV, but golly gosh monkeys I never want to work in a bank. I don’t want the highlight of my day to be analyzing customer data and finding ways to schmooze money of them. Those poor saps. Blah.

I wish this post could be more exciting, but I’m already using every ounce of my creativity to not turn this into a check list for credit card processes… now THAT is the epitome of boredom. Somedays, as I sit at my desk, I wonder if watching grass grow would be more exciting. I ponder upon that thought for a bit, and usually I come to the conclusions that… yes, watching grass grow would be more exciting. 

Mmmmm. Also I’m currently coughing like a cat hacking up a furball. Yewack.