I found the following when I was searching the internet for the definition of "crutch mentality" (not because I don't know what it means, but to ensure that it can be used in any setting as long as the phenomenon itself is conceptually aligned with the term). It's old, but it's still interesting.
http://sglibertas.wordpress.com/2005/11/12/the-malay-crutch-mentality/
...
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
We'll go to peepshows and freak shows...
Or just sit at home willing the flesh to work.
Following months of what passes as drought in sunny Shitspore, has been a week of cloudy skies and apologetic rain. Really pleasant weather for an extended lie-in (followed by an afternoon nap) with the cat curled up behind my knee...zzzz... The rattling frogs are back, which makes me wonder where they went when the garden was all hot and dry and dying.
So, time spent working on delegation report and presentation to the Minister for Tuesday morning = 0 minutes. Time spent idly going through my e-mail inbox wondering at all the work I've done and still have to do = 45 minutes. Time spent planning my next Shu Uemura haul (double points cos it's my birthday month!) and the possibility of a duty-free one = 4 hours (can somebody just tell me what blush to buy?).
Then of course there's the rediscovery of CABLE. Mmmm... cable... The only thing I love more than cable is YouTube. It would have been nice to have grown up in the YouTube-savvy world.
TWENTY EIGHT. I've never thought about being 28 before. Seriously. When I was a teenager, the oldest I ever imagined myself to be was 27. Not that I believed I would die before turning 28, it's just that it was So Far Away it never occurred to me to let it cross my mind. Yet in exactly 36 hours and 7 minutes, I will have been on this planet for
twenty
eight
years.
I started this blog four and a half years ago. Four years ago I decidedly experienced my first work-related head spasm and six months later I had another problem to deal with. I adopted Bobblehead the Long Cat almost ftr nmgrcthree years ago (he says hi). My foobs are two and a half years old. I've been diving for two years and driving for one and a half. The past year witnessed my transformation into a government machine and six months ago I embraced it as a very likely option for life. Today I decide to let some things slip through the cracks because I just. cannot. do. it. anymore. Yesterday a figure from the past who was previously featured in this blog facebooked me a birthday greeting (to which I replied that he was a few days early).
At the meeting I was at - for which delegation report this post puts on hold - the Chairman had asked: "Where are we now? Where are we going? Do we define ourselves or do we let others define us?"
But how? I want to make pots of money and be in a position of power and find the perfect man with whom I can raise perfect children while skydiving/mountain-climbing/amazon-river-navigating/helicopter-flying/arctic-canoeing in between. At the same time I just want to figure out which goddamn shades of blush would most suit my skintone, to watch "Fishzilla" on NatGeo and the Philip Defranco show on YouTube, to hang out with my psychotic cat while being lulled to sleep by the rattling frogs.
Seriously man, those frogs. That is some soothing shit.
...
Following months of what passes as drought in sunny Shitspore, has been a week of cloudy skies and apologetic rain. Really pleasant weather for an extended lie-in (followed by an afternoon nap) with the cat curled up behind my knee...zzzz... The rattling frogs are back, which makes me wonder where they went when the garden was all hot and dry and dying.
So, time spent working on delegation report and presentation to the Minister for Tuesday morning = 0 minutes. Time spent idly going through my e-mail inbox wondering at all the work I've done and still have to do = 45 minutes. Time spent planning my next Shu Uemura haul (double points cos it's my birthday month!) and the possibility of a duty-free one = 4 hours (can somebody just tell me what blush to buy?).
Then of course there's the rediscovery of CABLE. Mmmm... cable... The only thing I love more than cable is YouTube. It would have been nice to have grown up in the YouTube-savvy world.
TWENTY EIGHT. I've never thought about being 28 before. Seriously. When I was a teenager, the oldest I ever imagined myself to be was 27. Not that I believed I would die before turning 28, it's just that it was So Far Away it never occurred to me to let it cross my mind. Yet in exactly 36 hours and 7 minutes, I will have been on this planet for
twenty
eight
years.
I started this blog four and a half years ago. Four years ago I decidedly experienced my first work-related head spasm and six months later I had another problem to deal with. I adopted Bobblehead the Long Cat almost ftr nmgrcthree years ago (he says hi). My foobs are two and a half years old. I've been diving for two years and driving for one and a half. The past year witnessed my transformation into a government machine and six months ago I embraced it as a very likely option for life. Today I decide to let some things slip through the cracks because I just. cannot. do. it. anymore. Yesterday a figure from the past who was previously featured in this blog facebooked me a birthday greeting (to which I replied that he was a few days early).
At the meeting I was at - for which delegation report this post puts on hold - the Chairman had asked: "Where are we now? Where are we going? Do we define ourselves or do we let others define us?"
But how? I want to make pots of money and be in a position of power and find the perfect man with whom I can raise perfect children while skydiving/mountain-climbing/amazon-river-navigating/helicopter-flying/arctic-canoeing in between. At the same time I just want to figure out which goddamn shades of blush would most suit my skintone, to watch "Fishzilla" on NatGeo and the Philip Defranco show on YouTube, to hang out with my psychotic cat while being lulled to sleep by the rattling frogs.
Seriously man, those frogs. That is some soothing shit.
...
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
262
hours since I got botox injected into my masseter muscles (the chewing ones). The full effect of botox injections for jawline slimming takes about 2 to 3 months to show, so I'm not sure if the slight reduction in muscle size is real or just wishful thinking. What is very noticeable is that I can't quite smile the way I used to. The corners of my mouth barely turn upward when I smile now, which makes it look more like a grimace. The potential for misunderstanding is thus a matter of concern. The best alternative is the sort of close-lipped faint smile that falls somewhere in between lofty and trying-to-be-polite-while-having-a-headache.
Oh well, I do believe that this means no more botox for me :(
...
Oh well, I do believe that this means no more botox for me :(
...
Sunday, January 10, 2010
2010 - Year of BIONIC WOMAN!
It's been a crappy start.
Think positive!
More money! (More problems too, but still, more money!)
More hours working too, but hey, it's not like I'm having to sacrifice time with a significant other!
More money!
Just 2.75 years to go.
More money!
This year I will get back in shape.
I will Botox, smartlipo, radiofrequency, vaser, whatever it takes.
I will stir shit at work if I have to.
I will keep mechanical microdermabrading.
I will sunblock. Sunblock. And more sunblock.
I will virtuously ignore the fact that I won't have a life.
I probably won't get to travel unless it's work-related.
I will run. Run. Run. (With sunblock on.)
I will find a cream and blue dress for T's wedding.
Before it takes place.
I won't buy a car.
I won't make rash decisions about entering the property market.
I will be more judicious in my spending.
I will be more judicious in everything.
I will stop taking it out on Fat Boy. (Even though it's partly his fault.)
I will drink no more than two units of alcohol at a go, no more than twice a week.
I will never be drunk or hungover again.
I will dust off my Japanese books and re-acquaint myself with the language.
I will stir so much shit, you wouldn't believe it.
I will go back to writing that bloody speech.
...
I may even re-organise my wardrobe.
...
Think positive!
More money! (More problems too, but still, more money!)
More hours working too, but hey, it's not like I'm having to sacrifice time with a significant other!
More money!
Just 2.75 years to go.
More money!
This year I will get back in shape.
I will Botox, smartlipo, radiofrequency, vaser, whatever it takes.
I will stir shit at work if I have to.
I will keep mechanical microdermabrading.
I will sunblock. Sunblock. And more sunblock.
I will virtuously ignore the fact that I won't have a life.
I probably won't get to travel unless it's work-related.
I will run. Run. Run. (With sunblock on.)
I will find a cream and blue dress for T's wedding.
Before it takes place.
I won't buy a car.
I won't make rash decisions about entering the property market.
I will be more judicious in my spending.
I will be more judicious in everything.
I will stop taking it out on Fat Boy. (Even though it's partly his fault.)
I will drink no more than two units of alcohol at a go, no more than twice a week.
I will never be drunk or hungover again.
I will dust off my Japanese books and re-acquaint myself with the language.
I will stir so much shit, you wouldn't believe it.
I will go back to writing that bloody speech.
...
I may even re-organise my wardrobe.
...
Monday, August 10, 2009
Shit-stirrer.
Because with old shit, you have to loosen it up before you can flush it down.
Yes LB, I mean you. It's not that I dislike you or that I have a grudge against you. In fact I think you're rather funny. To watch. You've had enough years amassing a fortune from your cushy civil service job. Your kids are all grown up and don't need your funding anymore. Your wife's been doing well too. You have lots of money - and now, you have no friends in the organisation. It's time you graciously stepped down, before you're forced to. Your salary is worth at least three times of mine. Imagine what we could do with three more of me and one less of you. Times are tough and we need to cut costs.
You are, to use a term frequently used in our line of work, "low-hanging fruit". It's very sad, but as of tomorrow, I shall have to stop sympathising with you. I mean, at the end of my legal obligations to the organisation, I may find that the best option is to stay put. And if I'm going to stay put then I need to make sure there's a clear path to the top.
With the pregnant lady out of the way and ZB lacking the ambition (but certainly not the skills) to make it any further, I'm afraid that, Chub, you're next. That will be a real shame because I really do like you, in that I enjoy very much your company and I frequently fantasise about us shagging in your office after everyone else has left (despite the fact that you're not what I would ordinarily consider attractive). But as with LB, you are yet another "low-hanging fruit" (I keep bloody telling you that you need to get in with the SMs, that if the beer is free and flows ice cold then there's no COST to it). And I need a clear path to the top.
This blog is getting a bit boring (or has gotten boring, whichever). Sorry about that; my life comprises work, my cat and the painting studio. Donations in the form of (hot) men are most welcome; then you can start reading about something more exciting!
...
Yes LB, I mean you. It's not that I dislike you or that I have a grudge against you. In fact I think you're rather funny. To watch. You've had enough years amassing a fortune from your cushy civil service job. Your kids are all grown up and don't need your funding anymore. Your wife's been doing well too. You have lots of money - and now, you have no friends in the organisation. It's time you graciously stepped down, before you're forced to. Your salary is worth at least three times of mine. Imagine what we could do with three more of me and one less of you. Times are tough and we need to cut costs.
You are, to use a term frequently used in our line of work, "low-hanging fruit". It's very sad, but as of tomorrow, I shall have to stop sympathising with you. I mean, at the end of my legal obligations to the organisation, I may find that the best option is to stay put. And if I'm going to stay put then I need to make sure there's a clear path to the top.
With the pregnant lady out of the way and ZB lacking the ambition (but certainly not the skills) to make it any further, I'm afraid that, Chub, you're next. That will be a real shame because I really do like you, in that I enjoy very much your company and I frequently fantasise about us shagging in your office after everyone else has left (despite the fact that you're not what I would ordinarily consider attractive). But as with LB, you are yet another "low-hanging fruit" (I keep bloody telling you that you need to get in with the SMs, that if the beer is free and flows ice cold then there's no COST to it). And I need a clear path to the top.
This blog is getting a bit boring (or has gotten boring, whichever). Sorry about that; my life comprises work, my cat and the painting studio. Donations in the form of (hot) men are most welcome; then you can start reading about something more exciting!
...
Sunday, August 02, 2009
My Life in a Serial Drama.
I suppose it was only a matter of time before one gets sucked into the morass of politics that characterises the middle-to-upper rungs of the career ladder in any organisation. The recent Friday drinks with my "godfather" have been sobering (that is, after the hangover subsided). I have an enemy. Ok, so I kinda suspected that already, I still remember how said enemy failed to realise that he hadn't successfully hung up on me before mouthing off about me. We all know that work's like that, you can't always get the job done right without stepping on some toes. But apparently there's a ... strategic undertone to this enmity. Which explains all the unsolicited, probing and free cigarette breaks. (Damn you nicotine!)
Godfather (as he will hereafter be known) says I should lie low and stay neutral. Because Enemy's part-time Godfather is my Lecherous Boss (as he will hereafter be known). According to Godfather, nobody in Senior Management has made any complaints about me, Lecherous Boss included. Apparently Lecherous Boss falls short in the integrity stakes and is known to unfairly criticize some of his staff in order to promote others - usually the "good soldiers" who deliver whatever Lecherous Boss wants, without cognisance of right or wrong (or even logic or reason, as experience has shown).
Fortunately for me (i) Lecherous Boss has ZERO allies amongst Senior Management since the change in Chief Executive, formerly his (only) patron; (ii) Enemy has ZERO fans amongst Senior Management since he's quite stupidly decided to suck on the one man with no allies; and (iii) the rest of Senior Management are decidedly in positive net favour of me.
The wildcard is the new Chief Executive. As one would expect. Prior to his departure, I had asked my former Director for "tips" to deal with the new Chief Executive. According to the former, they're pretty good friends. Also according to the former, once you're in the latter's bad books, you're pretty much screwed for the rest of your lifetime in that organisation. And it's difficult to "feel" where one's boundaries lie, because the new Chief is generally a very amiable and friendly guy, who only shows his displeasure after you've passed the tipping point.
According to Godfather, this assessment is pretty much spot on. And Lecherous Boss may have passed that tipping point. But it's unlikely he'd be let go off (is that grammatically correct?), because he's done well to make himself indispensable by means of information-hogging. Plus nobody's really made to leave the organisation unless they've well and truly fucked up.
Godfather says I should stay neutral, keep my opposing opinions to myself and pretty much wait until I'm assured of the next level in my career. And that I shouldn't trust anyone (I'm guessing anyone but Godfather). He's offered me a transfer to his division where I can wait things out and get promoted while the shit settles. I've declined it because as much as I think Godfather is the most sensible person in the entire organisation, I am also discouraged by the very operational and intellectually dormant career options under his watch - requiring skills so unique and essential that they have no market value outside of the organisation. Of course the way I explained it to him was that it would be irresponsible of me to ask for a transfer just one month into my new role, that I should give at least the usual two years first. But I think he understands.
Back to the first point - dealing with the Enemy. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. I'll keep going for those cigarette breaks, make him think I'm on his side, reveal nothing except a complete lack of competition. I'm cultivating an ally of my own, same rank, same trajectory (same birthday). Endear myself to the right people, especially those who will take over the reins in the event that Lecherous Boss is made to lose control. Win the hearts and minds of everyone else, especially the younger ones, the ones I will depend on for ground work.
The difficult part is keeping opposing opinions to myself. Need to figure that one out.
I hate politics.
...
Godfather (as he will hereafter be known) says I should lie low and stay neutral. Because Enemy's part-time Godfather is my Lecherous Boss (as he will hereafter be known). According to Godfather, nobody in Senior Management has made any complaints about me, Lecherous Boss included. Apparently Lecherous Boss falls short in the integrity stakes and is known to unfairly criticize some of his staff in order to promote others - usually the "good soldiers" who deliver whatever Lecherous Boss wants, without cognisance of right or wrong (or even logic or reason, as experience has shown).
Fortunately for me (i) Lecherous Boss has ZERO allies amongst Senior Management since the change in Chief Executive, formerly his (only) patron; (ii) Enemy has ZERO fans amongst Senior Management since he's quite stupidly decided to suck on the one man with no allies; and (iii) the rest of Senior Management are decidedly in positive net favour of me.
The wildcard is the new Chief Executive. As one would expect. Prior to his departure, I had asked my former Director for "tips" to deal with the new Chief Executive. According to the former, they're pretty good friends. Also according to the former, once you're in the latter's bad books, you're pretty much screwed for the rest of your lifetime in that organisation. And it's difficult to "feel" where one's boundaries lie, because the new Chief is generally a very amiable and friendly guy, who only shows his displeasure after you've passed the tipping point.
According to Godfather, this assessment is pretty much spot on. And Lecherous Boss may have passed that tipping point. But it's unlikely he'd be let go off (is that grammatically correct?), because he's done well to make himself indispensable by means of information-hogging. Plus nobody's really made to leave the organisation unless they've well and truly fucked up.
Godfather says I should stay neutral, keep my opposing opinions to myself and pretty much wait until I'm assured of the next level in my career. And that I shouldn't trust anyone (I'm guessing anyone but Godfather). He's offered me a transfer to his division where I can wait things out and get promoted while the shit settles. I've declined it because as much as I think Godfather is the most sensible person in the entire organisation, I am also discouraged by the very operational and intellectually dormant career options under his watch - requiring skills so unique and essential that they have no market value outside of the organisation. Of course the way I explained it to him was that it would be irresponsible of me to ask for a transfer just one month into my new role, that I should give at least the usual two years first. But I think he understands.
Back to the first point - dealing with the Enemy. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. I'll keep going for those cigarette breaks, make him think I'm on his side, reveal nothing except a complete lack of competition. I'm cultivating an ally of my own, same rank, same trajectory (same birthday). Endear myself to the right people, especially those who will take over the reins in the event that Lecherous Boss is made to lose control. Win the hearts and minds of everyone else, especially the younger ones, the ones I will depend on for ground work.
The difficult part is keeping opposing opinions to myself. Need to figure that one out.
I hate politics.
...
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