Over what? I don't know. He picks a fight whenever he doesn't have enough sleep, and he clearly didn't have enough sleep.
Is it my problem?
No, not when he doesn't have enough sleep. But when he goes around choking people with his hateful words, yes, it is a problem.
And I choke him back.
Moments like this make me wonder about the frog analogy.
These are push factors, clearly push factors.
The water heats up and I am finding it unbearable.
But I stay on, because I believe in evolution.
Only to realize that evolution is a process that transcends centuries.
I will probably be a fossil in the well already.
...
I don't don't like my work. Please, I don't.
And I don't take it for granted.
It is just that I feel out of place.
And that because of my spoilt-brat tendency, I am adopting more of a 'if-you-let-me-work-here-i-will-do-it; if-not-it-is-ok" attitude.
I try to coax myself that this is a good training ground for the future environment I hope to work in, so yes, I should value it.
But yes, as you probably can tell, if I have to coax myself into doing something, it probably means that my heart don't desire the same way my brain has decoded the situation.
Maybe I feel inferior? Although I shouldn't.
We have a mixture of people in the office but everyone is clearly a high-flier.
Or rather, you have to had been a high-flier for you to be there.
So why don't I like it? I have always aspired to be a high-flier, haven't I?
But therein is the key word: I aspired, because I never was.
I never was a high-flier because I do not think the high-flier way.
Because my upbringing was never the high-flier upbringing.
Because deep within my skin and bones, no matter how much I try to bring nurturing into the picture, I am still not of high-flier breed.
*laughs to myself* And so, lunch becomes a boring affair because besides the few words of comment I can utter, the remaining energy is transferred into staring at my yong tau hu bowl.
We don't talk about the same things. I don't even think we think the same way.
Maybe I am wrong. I hope I am wrong.
I think about going to Latin America and doing Argentina Tango. I think about going to UK to learn Balboa. I think about going to America and doing a long long road trip from the East Coast to the West Coast.
I think about going to Japan and learning Japanese. I think about going to Shanghai and teaching Chinese to foreigners and meeting up with PY. I think about going to Russia to learn Russian, and Jerusalem to learn Hebrew.
But I can't say that. Because nobody says that.
Maybe that is the skeleton dream that everyone leaves in the cupboard. Hoping that one fine day when they dust the room, they will bother to clear it and realize its existence.
Or maybe, nobody ever has that dream.
Because nobody ever thought about them.
Instead, maybe I should try to think about the uncontrollable expenditure in my debit column of the passbook or about going shopping to get that nice red blouse. I should know the sales and I should know which brand is the best buy-for-money.
I should because these are the bread and butter issues I should be thinking about.
...
And you know what, I really don't want to be that frog.
Day in day out, I am busy, yes. And I should be glad, because amidst that busy-ness, I do not have the time to think about my plight as a frog.
But I do worry and that fear creeps up on me pretty often.
I was telling R, what if we both become frogs?
*laughs to myself* And yes, while I will really hope that that is because of the passing of time and the change of intentions, I guess what I am really trying to say is...
Maybe one day we will become frogs not because we want to, but because our hind legs have degenerated and we are no longer able to jump out of the tall well like we could before.
...
So since I have no control over that, the only thing I can do now is to stay chirpy and hopeful and leave all to God.
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