I've been doing quite a lot of thinking about my job. Mainly whether I'm truly enjoying it.

It's kinda eating my health away. Close friends would have known how much my body has weakened since I took on this job. Some days I slack like a taitai, other days I work with almost no sleep. And it's crazy. Overseas trips would eat half my life and spit the remaining half corpse-like body back to the doctors in Singapore to scratch their heads over the mysterious illness I'm plagued with. So the many days when I'm not prancing around like a taitai, sucks.

Then stuff happens - like when I can't balance my ledger sheet. One time too many. Unless the gahmen decides I could do whatever damn thing I want with my CPF, I'd need to think of ways to mend the f-king arsehole I've created. I'm not good with the printed notes. Seriously. Like I have a damn big problem with it; I have to let it out of my sight. I cannot touch it. I must not have anything to do with it. Otherwise, I'd just lose it. Which, did happened. But I take heart that if nothing works out, I can always give Keong Saik Street a run for its money. The ancient brothels need new blood anyway. I've been told many times that I'm quite 'hot'. Hah.

The Mother has been asking if I'm interested in other jobs. Perhaps one which doesn't need me to carry $10K everywhere I go in India, or one that doesn't send me to faraway land such as Jordan, or one that doesn't require me to fly on recently-not-so-safe Qantas or one that doesn't take me away from her so very often?

And I've been considering hard. 25 years young and I've...

... joked, laughed and drank beer with the usually stern-looking Israeli bodyguards.
... sang the most hilarious French song with the usually snobbish French.
... successfully 'bribed' a top brass military lieutenant with 2 cans of Coke-Cola.
... visited the rough side of India.
... saw the most beautiful sunset in Jordan.
... slept with the ants in Langkawi.
... shopped nearly every shop in the streets of Sydney, Brisbane and Adelaide.
... cried three times a day in India.
... visited all the churches in Macau in a single day.

The truth is, my passion for travelling and the exposure to so many experiences outside this little well is so intense that it pushes me further into this wilderness.

The worthiness of all absudities that I've been through since, is by far (bystanders' point of view) is amounting to nothing. Yet my thrist for more travel tells me to try things out again. On a clean slate.

I've comtemplated resignation. It was a long conversation with Kat. I spoke my mind. She spoke hers. One can never ask (or pray) for a more understanding boss than her. It'd be a shame to seek another boss. But if I could also add a few more truthiness (amongst other things) to what I find hard adjusting to in this job, it'd mainly be:

... Hi-Bye Man.
... the unavoidable need to dirty my hands at work.
... the lack of classy hotel rooms to stay in during overseas trips.
... the lack of a corporate credit card for me so that I could minimise losing cold hard cash to the wind.
... random angmoh man asking me how much the brothels, opposite my office, charge.

But I didn't reveal these, because they are not really THAT important. Just like how I told Kat, that 'money is really not an issue here'. I mean it. You laugh. But I mean it. Because if you really know me, you would have asked me a million times, "Why aren't you paid more?"

Because really, I am not interested in banking, medical, insurance and stunts, even if it pays a million bucks. And despite the fact I am the sole bread winner of the family.

And so I tossed and turned in bed many nights, pondering about... you know, the usual list of 'what i want', 'what i f-king don't like'.

Then I 'struck a deal'. I asked to be listed for a certain project for a certain show in a certain city.

So yeah, I'm going to Paris this June.

Yes I know. I'm such a sucker that I'm willing to endure shit in return for an air ticket.

Just for one blardy ticket. Stone me.