More fillings to mouth with

My job's put me in a temporary position in which I am the bearer of bad news to grumpy customers arriving at the now-defunkt client centre each day. At times I like to think that I'm providing good service, but at others, boredom and a tainted sense of humour tend to get the better of me and are received by clients with varying levels of amicability.

"Moved? Move where?!"
"The moon."
"..."


mu ha ha tis me. I moved yer bank.

I finally went to get the remaining of my fillings done at the dentist. Watching her work on my mouth through the reflection in the overhead lamp, relying on the accuracy of her fingers to get the job done, just as dad does, I wish I had become a doctor as well, or at least someone who got to do something with his hands for a living, be it treating patients or building a scaffold or slicing raw salmon. Working with one's hands seems a tireless craft.

Speaking of which, one is broken. :|



The right one as well. True irritation.

With one down, I might be out of work if I had to count on my hands for a living. Nevertheless, I think I'd like it more than what I do now, and I'd be damn good at it. These thoughts are no doubt subset thoughts of another thought which involves the desperation of wanting to make SOMETHING of my life.Somethin'...

The mediocrity with which my life bumbles on truly depresses me. It might not be just about a career either... its about making a mark as a human on the planet. An inspired human. Coming from a priviledged background, I wonder what I'd be like if I'd had a humble upbringing. That is - would I be another drop existing in the masses or would I make a difference to this world as I know it... or would I still be the same obnoxious asshole that I am now... and how would I ever know? I have a film noir fantasy to get thrown into life in prison... or to find myself abandoned in a foreign land, just to test my merits as a human. Motivation is most desirable of attributes.

I've noticed myself making myself feel better by highlighting the most pathetic differences that set me apart from the people around me. It's so pathetic that it makes me sick and my only solace is that I can write it and publish it and start to do something about it. I had lunch in crowded Takashimaya foodcourt some days ago where we had to share tables with some strangers. For a few minutes I found myself sitting across the table from a stranger - just the 2 of us. The stranger promptly took out a sheet of paper from her handbag and started reading it - for the remaining course of her lunch. A printed email of maybe 3 paragraphs that would have taken maybe 45 seconds to read. Her eyes of course never actually looked at the paper - its sole purpose at lunch was to screen away the awkwardness of dining with a stranger (me) who might try to talk to her.

For a moment, a sense of pomp came over me as I thought about how, given a chance, I would have talked to this stranger and tried to charm her panties off from across the table, or perhaps just make her edgy and uncomfortable. And then I realised that the only reason that I'd wanted to do such a thing was to feel superior to the common Singaporean man... and then I could only feel pathetic after that.

Thanks alot for reading. My name is paul and I just remembered that we walk with saints and angels, every day.