Flung at work

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I shouldn't be messaging, well...at the wrong time.

It made me felt so low, because the day was sunny and happy, yes I WAS HAPPY when work started, with my bunch of friends and all new hot gossips..ahhh...love that!

But when my boss walked in and stopped me from messaging....yikes yeahhh....she said it's a WARNING. NO CELLPHONE DURING WORK. Excuse me??~??!

At that moment I felt a chill down my spine. Not momentous, but it reminded me of the past. Of the time when some lunatic nonsensical individuals barged in my life trying to take control. And not my mom who did, but some figures thought they had the authority to do so. It made me feel so sick. I wanna throw up.

And then, Adam Lambert's song came playing in my mind...."What do you want from me..?"

I never understood why.

Never want to understand why my boss was such a pain in her back. Never understood why I accepted with a nod.

And never understood why I never walked away. I should have.

BLUE HIPPO

I left work like half an hour earlier. And something huge sneaking behind me. A blue hippo (yeah baby..that's what I'm calling you). Yikes can't believe it's you again....shuckzzzz.....

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Little blue hippo comes everyday to collect its food;
Little blue hippo has no help but annoys;
Little blue hippo yelps but nobody hears;
Simply because blue hippo is not welcome.

Blue hippo has its favourites around;
Blue hippo only talks to someone;
Blue hippo sneaks around contrary to its size;
But blue hippo cannot stay hidden.

People pat blue hippo at the back;
Not because we adore little hippo;
But blue hippo won't move without a pat;
A pat which leaves skitz marks on our hands.

When I heard blue hippo making its way here;
I pretended I did not hear it coming;
But my ears and senses did not stop me there;
Alas but to no avail, hippo hits me at the back.

An hour before the clock strikes;
I packed everything inside my bag;
And blue hippo escaped earlier than it should;
Made me ran to the backdoor exit!

I made my way through safely;
Back on my comfort seat in my car;
Still thinkin how blue hippo would chase;
LOL...an earthquake is about to strike.

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*sighHH* 


An early day tomorrow.


More HIPPOS to come!

proCrasTInaTION - pleaded not guilty!

When I was a kid, my sister said something which stays inside my head up till today. "Because of you procrastinating that's why you're going down."

Wow. Powerful.

But after awhile, I tend to forget that phrase and continue to waltz around doing the things I like to do, without much worries what lies ahead. Or maybe I don't earn the gift of delayed gratification.

Much to say about that, I'm glad to procrastinate about work tho'. I've never once thought about work the moment I step out from my workplace, let alone thinking about it when I'm inside my car or whereever I may be, nope, work does not exist. My world remains the beautiful features of Facebook, bloggings, my unread piles of books, my piano, the music that I've created which sometimes makes my husband falls asleep faster than he should, soup of the day, and my lovely chats with hubby which I miss the most. So, work has never existed. Not after the agonizing eight hours of my life being wasted on something which does not profit my happiness. Everyday.

So procrastination is not a crime after all. I delay my excitement about going to work, which I don't and never have felt before. And to work means to submit myself to a temporary death sentence which reincarnation takes place after eight hours being buried under the piles of unnecessary stress. Not to mention, the intoxication of nuisance political pollution that only dull lifeless political figures would create in the company. They think that is power and improvement. But for many of us down there, it's totally a wastage of brain cells. Death of brain cells being polluted; and digesting their values. Yikes. The undervalue of us young generation only triggers more irritations to the elder (perhaps more of the GenX and baby bloomers who think they rule), so it's wise to have a love-hate relationship at work, because loving those who support us at work (so not all are Hitlers) and hating those who are incompetent yet bossing around (unlike Hitlers, these people are more like governors who can't and won't protect the citizens). Sounds familar? Yesss....they walk among us.

And the verdict is...many of us are crime-free from work stress and politics. Why should we? There are ample of things to be done outside of our job, people who need us feeding them food when more than half of the world is starved to death. People who need a smile to make them feel they're worthy. People who think they are poor are actually rich with those around them who are willing to pull them out from poverty. And many more. So life is not all about work! Start getting out from the chair and look out the window. That is life. That is what made us today. Not the building. Not the values. But the certainty that when we step out from that building, we can still survive with our will and destiny for survival. Because I realize that life is too short to be saddened under the weather going to work. Don't be.

After all, who cares if you're a few minutes late to work because you're indulged in something more worthy?

Procrastination, for once, is not a death sentence. *wink wink wink*

Monday blues

It normally doesn't occur to me that Monday would be such devastating to start. Obnoxiously work gives me more headache than facing the wall, I kinda find talking to the screen myself is more entertaining.

I hate work!

But I know there are people who enjoy their jobs. Not me. But that's not the reason I'm on non-paid vacations, it's strictly familial issues and to divulge more, still personal. The reason I stared blankly at my uniform gave a spike of electric shots ran down my spine, I hardly believe my vacation is over and work starts tomorrow.

Let me brief about my job. It's nothing fancy. Call it whatever you want. But I have a decent living with my second job, which drives my soul crazy on its hypnotic sensation when pounding on the notes and yes, exactly, I'd rather pound than to jab, rather sprung high on chords than hitting floors with code-blues, those codes are real headaches that aspirins cannot solve. I hate codes, and when I retire; no more codes. You all get what I mean there.

I should be putting myself on high with ecstatic rhythms (yes that's a cure for all blues) and my workplace should better be free from non-sensible up-aired hymns that very few people would enjoy (I wonder who would). There is rhythm, but they're whistled. Not monotonously, but rather eerie when it sounds more like "pulling a bull up the tree" (Chinese saying). Now people get how horrible that sounds like. SO I guess it's wise never to air such music, such hymns, where very few, maybe the minority of listeners would enjoy.

Why would whistle tunes be so poignant? I guess my taste of being too classical has tuned more to dramatic, frenzy, improvised chords than laying the piece right in front of you, playing every note out of it. Boring. No. I may say that Classical music is never boring; but that'll be another topic which I'll ponder upon. Just that classical pieces do not blend into the jazz world. They are enemies. But would I rather say the classics have not reached the period where jazz began? Enemies or not, one may not know if Mozart, or Chopin, or Brahms, Liszt, Rachmaninoff, or Bach would venture into jazz as much addicted as they were towards their work. Musicians argue that Chopin may be the father of jazz. Then to Gershwin. I may be very wrong. The thin gray line which many musicians today argue upon the birth of jazz may just lie when Mozart had not tickle his brain enough to improvise certain chords. Again, I am no expert.

Siphoning from work to music and from arts to science, many gray areas are laid where we hardly understand why. And if Monday has not come, maybe I'll never write this after all. Let's just say that my workplace is filled with melancholics where soft new age music springs up high the air every morning, that will be a great treat for them. The company has no worries about the decrease of quality. And for non-melancholic like us, that spells disaster. So everybody takes Monday blues differently. Some may be energetic enough when the first alarm rings in the morning, can't wait to get up and shower. Sounds strange isn't it?

Coz I'm not like them. Maybe I should.

Maybe Mozart or Chopin would love jazz after all.