It’s taken all of four weeks at the new workplace to cripple my morale and self-esteem. Actually, decapitate might be a more accurate description. My last entry was hopeful to a point, that I might survive this until a writing job opens up. Just two weeks later, I feel like my guts have been twisted inside-out and left to roast over a bonfire.

I pray for the voice to speak again, even as a tear squeezes through locked eyelids and escapes gleefully down my face, free from its mournful dungeon.

But there is only silence.

I need to find a way out. And soon. Lord, show me the way, your faithful servant pleads.

“I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” John 14:6   

Some two and a half weeks into my new job, I feel like I’ve aged a decade.

I’ve had one day away from the office in the past 22 days, and it’s starting to really drain me. I’ve had lunch less than five times since I started because there’s just not enough time. I don’t even get to see the sun anymore, except through the tiny ventilation window in the toilet cubicle. Sometimes, I feel like doing a Mas Selamat and running off to Malaysia. Except it’s unlikely I could squeeze my mammoth behind through that tiny crevice.

As I brought the media around during the big event last Sunday, I suddenly felt sick. I was a fish out of water, on the wrong side of the fence between public relations and journalism, and I knew it.

“Why do you give up so easily?”

The short answer is: I’m not, and I’m a little disappointed you think that.

I’m not giving up – I’m chasing my passion, my dream. It’s what I’m best at, so why should I be content to continue wrestling with a role I have a talent for, but feel out of sorts in?

It’s not the long hours or the hard work. I worked from 8.30am to 11.00pm – when the security guards came around to chase us out of the media centre – when I was Barcelona. I endured difficult conditions in Karachi, where even a simple trip to the loo was a quarter-mile hike to find a hole in the ground already overflowing with bodily crap. And yet, I was almost always first to arrive in the morning for the editor’s briefing, and one of the last to leave the site. That’s probably only because I write so damn ‘meticulously’ (read: painfully slow), but that’s a different story altogether. The point is: I woke up early every morning – even without morning calls from the dear girlfriend – and was excited to be leaving for work. Isn’t that how a proper job should feel?

So, no, I’m not “giving up”. That connotes laziness and distaste for hardship. And that’s not what this is about. It’s about me pining to do something I love.

It’s what I’m meant to do. Now I just need to find a way to do it without starving.

Why didn’t Jesus choose a different career path? Surely a man who can turn water into wine could very well have been more than just a poor carpenter. Why do seemingly sane men choose to become priests, swearing by sexual abstinence and poverty? And why do some, after swearing this sacred oath, then break it?

Well, you know what you were called to do. But sometimes, it’s just too difficult to heed the voices and stay on the path in this world driven by capitalism and consumerism.

Adrian Martinez - The Farewell Blessing

Betrayed
by a dagger deeper than Brutus’ own
puncturing,
gorging,
twisting,
organs I only suspect existed.

The bells sound
but it’s not a game:
no spurting blood,
no bonus points,
no unlocked treasures.

And as the avatar falls,
only the dull thud of broken dreams.
Every whisper becomes a mockery,
laughing callously at shared plasma.

Alarms ring
but your eyes stay closed
and see only fleeting images:
of guilt,
of disability,
of emptiness.

Bear the shame of society,
oh thee worthless son;
carry the cross of passion,
and burn in brimstone –
Cain was never Abel.

And will never be.

- Stanislaus Jude Chan, January 2009

The Bitch

This blogger is hated – and loved – for his confrontational nature. Forget political correctness: if there’s a provocative way of calling it, he will. A bitch blog is an irresistible read. After all, there’s nothing surfers love more than flame wars and mud-slinging matches.

The resounding success of the bitches has spawned a new breed: the provocative commentators. There’s some crazy cow in Singapore who does this. I’m assuming he’s bright, being an NUS undergraduate and all, and it’s unfortunate he has to turn to this crass method to draw attention to his blog. With no worthy content of his own, his strategy to grow traffic is to go around others’ blog leaving the most – there just isn’t another word for it – ——-up comments possible. The ensuing war spikes his traffic upwards momentarily. Hooray, says that loser.

But while stepping on people’s toes has been proven as a sure-as-hell way of propelling to the top of the blogosphere, it does little for your social life, attracts the occasional lawsuit, and sets you up as a target of scorn. Then again, who needs friends when you could be a famous blog bitch?

Asinine Quotient: 4.5/5

The Bimbos

Physical beauty is fleeting, and these bloggers are eager to flaunt their faces and bodies every chance they get!

Nothing irks me more than visiting a blog absolutely void of any sign of intelligent life. Add gaudy design and annoying background music that is impossible to switch off, and we have a recipe for disaster.

Or do we?

Despite having IQs smaller than their waist sizes – in inches – these lookers boast web traffic we can only drool over. And why shouldn’t they? With a million racy self-taken photos per post, these model-wannabes are giving Hugh Hefner a run for his money.

And with the economy taking a turn for the worse, more are going to turn to these free sensory perk-me-ups than fork out a bundle for the latest Playboy, FHM or Maxim. Hell, the blogs show more skin anyway!

Asinine Quotient: 4/5

The Sexual Predator

No, we’re not talking about dirty old men luring under-aged school girls with offers of a quick buck though IRC/ICQ. That’s so yesterday.

We’re talking about bloggers who lure dirty old men to their blogs with offers of sex and scandals featuring under-aged school girls (and the occasional celebrities) to earn a quick buck from internet ads!

You know this blogger type: every other post is tagged ’sex scandal’, ‘Edison Chen’, ‘Tammy’, or ‘exposed sex video’. The sex trade is one of the world’s oldest professions, and it has taken on a 21st century twist!

Asinine Quotient: 4/5

Are you one of these blogger types? Or do you know someone who is? Share the sites with us!

Come to think of it, this post could easily be renamed “How to get lots of hits for your blog”, or “Tips to make money from your blog with minimal effort!” And that disturbs me thoroughly. What has become of our society?