Fragments I

It's one of those days, when I want to blog but yet I can't bring myself to do it because my head is full of disjointed and incoherent thoughts. I can't focus on one topic and elaborate on it. Then I thought, who the hell cares because it's MY blog, so screw coherency. In the words of a former blog I used to visit almost religiously - but enough about you. ME. ME. ME. ME. Oh look, still me. Damn it, if you're reading this, please start blogging again.

Ants

Ants share a common ancestor with wasps and bees. They are the ultimate feminist's dream. A whole colony of females where males only function as a necessity to procreate. They are rather industrious and hardy little creatures, toiling day and night. All in the name of their queen. And they are everywhere in my home - my bathroom, my kitchen, my desk, my bedroom. Christ, what are they invading me for? My flat is so devoid of food, you would think it's Ethiopia... or maybe North Korea. They seem to avoid the ant bait, and insecticide is just as good as America's promise of hunting down Osama bin Laden. The funny thing is, they seem periodic. Occasionally they would vanish for a month or two, and they will be back again in full force. But meanwhile, I have to bear with their annoying presence. Did I mention they seem to have a taste for mouthwash?

Status

Facebook's user status is fun. I don't care what the hell some bitter sociopath have to say about it. It's fun. FUN! FUN! FUN! FUN!!! Alright, fine - it helps pass time in a company where instant messaging programs are blocked. If that doesn't sound incredulous, it gets un-blocked at exactly 12pm to 2pm and then from 5pm to 9am the next day. It's like as if they are control feeding their employees. It's 2pm, time for your daily dose of online communication. Eat up my little guinea pigs! The ridiculous thing is, the analysts have free reign over usage of instant messaging programs, supposedly to "communicate with the clients". In any case, I have been here for 2 years and the pressure to move on is growing, especially when the company seem to have changed their business direction and left their designers out of their plans. Now all we seem to be good for in the office is just shifting stuff around. Four years in university and degree worth RM60,000 and I end up a coolie. Fuck my life. And thank you Captain Najib Obvious for finally admitting the economy is screwed, therefore making the chances for brighter opportunities elsewhere slimmer.

Age

It seems I am not the only one feeling the death throes of youth. An ex-classmate laments how scary it is that he is nearing 30 while he reminisces how it didn't seem so long ago that we were back in school crazy about console games. Another groans that we didn't used to have to worry about things like sustaining a job and finances. An Indian ex-schoolmate (with a overbearing personality and potty mouth and yes I am adding these because I don't like her and also because it's all true) whines how it seem like yesterday that she was still 16. What does she have to complain about, she's just 27. Not taking lightly the humour of me charting her life from being a swamped mother of teenagers to old wrinkly hag, she asked me if my life was that miserable. I am gay and hating it, no longer young, still single because all gay men are too fucked up to maintain a relationship, stuck with a dead end job but still having to be thankful to have one due to the economy, closeted because mummy dearest would be suicidal if she knows and I live alone because I can't even find the time to have pets. She (Indian ex-schoolmate) is lucky I don't drug her and hack her legs off like Kathy Bates in Misery.