Another Day

Yes, I'm still in the office.

Just sent out a couple of official emails and have yet to craft another important one.

But I'm tired. And that's the worse state of mind to be in when writing sensitive emails because I need to concentrate and carefully word my sentences.

I'll take a breather, let my thoughts settle down before I start a new day tomorrow.

It's 7.30pm now. Time to shut down and head home.

What. A. Day.

July doesn't like me very much, does she?

I got a call from one of my Corporate Events Management students in the afternoon. They had gone down to a particular secondary school (which shall not be named) to speak to the student volunteers who were going to help out at the event. Apparently, this group of misbehaving and rowdy students weren't very willing to learn the dance moves that were part of the flash mob. One character even stepped out of the line, created some trouble and ruffled several feathers.

To cut a long story short, my students were "stalked" and confronted" by this young teenager and his gang outside the school compound. I wasn't present to witness what happened but there was some physical contact between the said teen and one of my students. Thankfully, no-one was hurt and the school teacher was called in to settle the dispute.

I'm upset because this incident has shaken some of the students. And I think many are prepared to fail this subject and not show up for the event as they're concerned for their own safety. While it's easy for me to say that things will be fine, I can't guarantee if trouble will stay away.

Will mull over this tonight and try to resolve the issue by tomorrow, if possible. While my primary concern is for their welfare, I'm infuriated that all their hard work and planning will come to nought should we make changes to the programme. It's cruel that they're so close to the completion of the event and all this could be gone in a flash.

I need a sign to make the call.

Can't have my cake and eat it. Can you?

With several blinks of an eye, it's soon gonna be bye bye July.

And I'm quite glad because this month's been a wreck.

I've been bludgeoned by a spate of unfortunate incidents at work and at home. I lost my cool several times and flared up too readily, incurring the wrath of several people, including the poor hub.

I can't explain what happened, but something in me snapped more than once and I guess it was all that I could take.

One of the main reasons for my meltdown was the stress of taking over a colleague's duties when she resigned to care for her family. I started assuming the responsibilities in late May and to top it off, I was also given new projects to manage. It was only this month that I began to realise that I had indeed bitten off more than I could chew.

To make matters worse, the school holidays were over and the girls had gone back to school. Things were particularly tough for Xian who'd not performed well during the mid-year examinations. No surprises for guessing who's made accountable for her less-than-stellar academic performance.

I found myself staying back later in office each day just to clear the administrative work that piled up because I could only get cracking when I'm done with my classes. After 6 in the evening, when most of my colleagues have left for the day, I would start shifting through my files and replying emails.

Just when I thought things couldn't get ANY worse, I realised that I'd become an unwilling listening ear to another colleague who'd conveniently share work grievances when I clearly was in no mood to be sympathetic. Sadly, my non-verbal communication cues seemed to have been totally lost on this ignorant person who was determined to drag me down just because it was possible to do so. It got to the point when I showed traces of agitation and only then did this person get the message and backed off. For a while.

I was SO affected that I couldn't leave the office one evening because I was fuming and couldn't find an outlet to vent. Even when I finally got into the car, I couldn't even drive off because I could feel my heart racing and I knew that if I'd move the car so much as an inch, I would crash dangerously because I really, REALLY wanted to smash something up.

Honestly, I have no patience for those who complain about their "heavy workload" when I'm doing double or triple their share AND still manage to produce decent quality work and meet deadlines.

Needless to say, this deadly combination of overloaded work and crumbling family issues took its toll on my fraying nerves and last week, the walls crumbled.

On Monday, I had to stay back late to speak to my event class' client, sorting out issues and discussing how to help the students get back on track. It just so happened that MIL had an eye operation on the same day and I'd promised the hub that I would rush back as soon as I could. Naturally, I returned home later than expected and we had a spat sparked off by our differing views on Xian's education.  I lashed out at the hub, calling him terrible names and in turn, he gave me the silent treatment for the whole week.

Although we made up at the end of the week (largely because I can't stand the no-communication zone and initiated the peace-making offer, as usual) and things have stabilised a little, the emotional upheaval is still too raw for discomfort.

Work-Life Balance is nothing but a myth and fantasy, and the ones who whole-heartedly embrace this notion are either blatantly naive, do not have young children to care for or those who are super humans, with super kids and armed with superb time management skills.

I confess. I have none of these remarkable abilities. I'm just an ordinary working mother who's trying to juggle unrealistic expectations from family members, keeping my job and maintaining my sanity.

And  I'm sure I'm not the only mother who's greeted with guilt trips when I sacrifice time with my girls for the sake of deadlines at work. Yes, I do want my chocolate fudge cake and eat it and so far I've been fairly successful. That is, until last week when the troubles escalated and blew up in my face.

Looks like I'll just have to cast furtive glances at the delicious chocolate cake. And eat them in my dreams.

For Art's Sake!

This little reflection was inspired by my previous post which brought back memories of my days at school.

It's a little known fact to many of my friends and acquaintances that Art's one of my first loves.

My mother sent me for Art classes when I was about 6 and I thoroughly enjoyed my Saturday lessons conducted at my Art teacher's Walmer Drive home. I can vaguely recall being surrounded by more than 10 kids of different ages, each using different medium to sketch, colour and paint their little pieces. I was in awe of the "older" ones (who were probably in the teens) because they were really talented. I can't recall why and when I stopped classes but the influence of colour co-ordination, size, proportions, angles, shapes and shades had since been etched in my mind.

In school, my humble little pieces would be selected for display in class or even school boards. I wasn't successful in craftwork or needlework, but I often aced my Art exam. Occasionally I would whip out my drawing block and start sketching and colouring with oil pastels or magic markers (never enjoyed dabbling with poster paints and avoided them if I could help out). But I was never completely satisfied with my efforts and in my growing up years, stashed my art pack behind the cupboard because school work became a priority.

Art came back into my life quite by accident. And ironically, it was because of school.

At the end of Secondary 3, I'd fared so miserably in Additional Maths that I was forced to drop the subject. In my school, all the students were required to take a minimum of 8 subjects and I found myself in hot soup because there wasn't any other option available. Except Art. I was an angsty rebel back in those dark days and it didn't help that there was a stigma attached to us academic-losers who took Art as an 'O' level subject.

Although I attended lessons regularly and focused on using pencil as my medium, I was never really "into" the subject and just enough to get by. I didn't practise as hard or as much as I should have but I eventually got a B4 for my 'O's and my transcript didn't look quite as horrifying as it would have if I'd attempted A Maths.

I thought I could chuck Art out of my school life until history repeated itself when I was in Junior College. At my mother's insistence, I settled my 'A' level combination of English Literature, History and Economics. Needless to say, this ended in a complete disaster for my JC1 exams. I just couldn't dig Economics no matter how hard I tried. I attended remedial lessons and even had 1-to-1 coaching from the Head of Arts. And that's the worst part of it all. I channeled all my energies to pin down Oligopoly and Monopoly, wrestled with the Demand and Supply curves, wrote countless Economics essays only to have these words uttered in my face: This isn't a GP paper! 

But my tutors came together and hatched an escape plan to save me from self-destruction. My parents were called in to be "counselled" and "advised" against forcing me to take Economics. My tutors argued that if I continued with Economics, the best I could end up with is an E grade (pass) but the possibility of even scrapping through was just about that of me landing a distinction for Chinese. (Read: NEVER GONNA HAPPEN).

Once again, Art saved my skin although it was a tough battle because I'd lost 1 entire year's work and had to play catch-up at double speed. In order to "qualify" for the subject, I was asked to familiarise myself with the Art Movements and had to sit through an "aptitude" test. It was never going to be a smooth ride because there's lots more to Art that meets the eye. And for the 'A' levels, I had to sit through 2 practical papers (Nature and Design) and submit a Woodblock Print. Most of my "new" Art classmates had already begun work of their submissions in Year 1 and as a late entrant to the race it was extremely pressuring to make the mark.

Honestly, my 2nd year at JC's a blur. I can't recall details but I fared well enough to enter the National University of Singapore (NUS). Scrapped through by the skin of my teeth. Not that it matters now.

I owe Art quite a fair bit. Even though I'd cruelly abandoned my childhood friend and attempted to make new acquaintances, she never once begrudged me and even helped me to overcome several hurdles.

Art, here's my long overdue and heartfelt thanks for your unwavering support all these years during the critical periods. You never gave up on me even when I lost hope. You steered me back when I lost my direction. Thank you.

How Great, Thou Art.