For the past two days, I’ve been writing rant after angy rant and not publishing. The anger is just boiling up and bubbling over. But fridays are fridays and I feel a little less angry today.
This morning I crammed tons of correspondence into a folder before leaving for work. I have to clear taxi claims, meal claims, insurance claims, discharge letters, transcripts and probably more stuff that I am not aware I need to sort out yet. And then I figured well, it’s been 20,000 years since I got a mani/pedi. So I shoved a pair of flip flops into my bag so I could run to the salon later in the evening.My hands are in a bad state. I’ve been biting them a lot- I NEED TO STOP! Worrying about ugliness is making me more ugly (Yes, Silvara thanks for that reassuring piece of trivia!)Anyway you’ll never guess what happened. My heel broke on my way to work! Now this isn’t something I am happy about but talk about coin-ki-dence!
Today is the 4th of July. Happy Independence Day to the Americans. It is also, and hate me for this for I will never forget, the 3rd anniversary of my foot fracture. Yessiree. Happy memories. NOOOOOTTT. It’s quite a relief though that I just broke the heel of a shoe today when three years ago I went ahead and broke the foot itself. God has upgraded me to a slightly less hazardous level of clumsiness! We call this op-ti-mi-sm, darlings!
Today is also an important day. It marks three years spent being a corporate zombie, three years of whoring my soul, smiling like I don’t mean it, fake-laughing and working long thankless hours and all for what? *plays a hip hop beat* Heyyyyy! Must be the mo-nnayyyyyy!
This means I am a free bird, sans obligations, sans legal contracts. I am thrilled! Although that does make me wonder how I haven’t saved a decent amount of money in the past 3 years. I’ve had a sizeable pension allowance which I technically should have saved all of. But I haven’t. Woe is me. I’ve had loan payments, frivolous expenses (like insurance), necessities (like shoes), utilities (like business wear). A rough calculation shows that my modest apartment houses clothes and accessories whose net worth runs into 5 digits. Given that, the medical expenses, the loans, I have to managed to save a miniscule amount that will kinda-sorta serve me well at least through half of my course. And pardon the cliche, but the last three years have been awesome and awful in equal measure. This little girl has gone from “Casa, do you know where I can really cheap business suits?” to “If it’s not branded, it’s not me!”. I wouldn’t call it a makeover because I never lacked style, just the cash, the autonomy. My hair has gotten progressively shorter over the last 3 years too and I am kinda pleased about that too.
I grew so much during the four years of university, those years were largely happy years interspersed with periods of crippling fear over exams and periods of trying to fit in. The last three years have been largely aggrevating, interspersed with periods of extreme boredom, loneliness and disappointment. It wasn’t all bad..I think I have grown a whole lot more. I’m almost grown up! I have a feeling I’m gonna another growth spurt next year and it’s gonna be faster than anything I’ve ever seen. I read this today “Good judgement comes from experience and experience comes from bad judgement”; so I guess it’s about time I show some good judgement now eh?
I’m spending the night at Zip’s place- that should be good for my nerves. I hope I can get off work early enough to make my pedicure appointment. I really need it. Especially after how lousy yesterday was.
First there was the investment bank cocktail reception I was invited. It was so boring that I can’t even think of any analogies to describe how boring it was. The food was the suckiest finger food I’ve ever had. The venue was crammed or should I say STUFFED with us stuffy banker types dressed in business suits. Yes, a friendly networking event in stuffy black suits. They didn’t seem to serve much wine either. And you can never eat at these parties for fear that the next minute there’s a honking huge sprig of spinach stuck between your teeth when the guy says “Jupiter, meet our chief financial officer Mr.Man”. “Pleashed choo meetchoo!”
So I didn’t eat. And I got collossally bored – I could sense the host bankers were bored too. Who can blame them? A bunch of suited over-eager business grads and business grads to-be making all-too-polite conversation all with the express purpose of makign themselves visible. It’s not that networking is wrong or over-rated, it is niether, but it is a HUGE BORE.
After which I sprinted into a cab and travelled half way across town to catch Die Hard 4.0. It’s a good movie, really, high-octane, the machismo is obviously off the charts when Bruce Willis is involved.
What you don’t know about Die Hard 4.0 is that it achieves the astonishing feat of having cast the dullest, most insipid bad-guy-gang in the history of action cinema. Villains that wouldn’t scare the schoolgirl in pigtails. There’s a guy called Thomas Gabriel whose acting skills are comparable to that highly irritably guy in high school who clenched his teeth when you made fun of him but never had the balls to do much more than that because he really was such a nincompoop. He’s exacting revenge on the cruel world after his girlfriend dumped him for being too much of a nerd. (At least that’s a better explanation than the one in the film anyway). Then there’s his bitch, whose name I can’t be bothered to remember, who is astonishingly thin and delivers convincing kung-fu moves to men 5 times her size. Her vapid facial expressions (or lack thereof) range from grim to grim to Haii-yaaackkk! to grim again. And of course these two kingpins are assisted with an army of homely-looking geeks -who do a pretty awesome job of patching calls through- and a handful of confused French henchmen who can understand English questions but are compelled to reply in French.
Patching calls through is a pretty important part of the movie (as is shooting people in the foot). Diverting traffic, death threats, calls to the FBI chief, the emergency phone in the elevator, launching attacks on flyovers can all be done by a nerd with a laptop simply by patching a call through. It is the future.
It’s not that the movie was bad, it just wasn’t Die Hard enough to be Die Hard if ya know what I mean. So yes, there’s Jeremy Irons and there’s Alan Rickman and then there’s this annoying angsty nerd in a black shirt, who looks like he listens to way too much Linkin Park. No wonder John McLaine kicked his ass.
(On a sidenote, why do people listen to Linkin’ Park? It’s shameful. Their lyrics are so inane they might well be singing “aaaaarggghhhhhh gheeeet mmmmaaayyyyyy laaaunddreeeeeeeeeee donnnnnnnnnnnnne arghhhhhhhhhhhhh” and you wouldn’t know the difference. Random Angst! Not to mention they’re a rock band that has a ..cough.. DJ?)