all begins with L

Me: “Mom, I have something to tell you.”

Mom: ‘What? You’re going for another holiday??”

Me: Erm, not really. (Not until 12 hours ago, but that would be another issue for another entry)

Mom: ‘What? How much you need, told you to save money right, have you wash the dishes, can you ask your brother to take a shower, switch off the tv…”

Me: Err, I just want to tell you that I applied for British American Toooooooot*

Mom: Huh?

Me: I applied for British American Tobacco.

Sister: It’s a cigarette company. (Death stare).

Mom: Oh, doing what?

Me: Branding, but the pay is quite high. And the work ethics is amazing I heard.

Mom: Where is it?

Me: Senoko

Mom: That’s why they’re paying quite high. You’re gonna have to travel to ‘Johor’ every morning.

Me: Urmm okay. (That’s it??? That’s it?!)

Me: Hmm… good night Mom.

On ethical egoism and the likes of it.

Dear Mr X,

Naming your company after the most pungent fruit in the world is probably not the most wisest thing to do. But considering that you get to work with cool people such as Sting and Alicia Keys, never mind the fact that these are obscenely rich people who can afford to indulge themselves in hollywood social work, I hereby put forth my credentials as a potential candidate to make coffee for you every morning while pretending to gain a hands-on experience in the real working world.

Apart from having to fulfill a ten weeks internship requirement in the most intriguing manner that a business student possibly could, my underlying motive (which happens to be my closet dream) is to meet Angelina Jolie in person. Now that she has started to pop by refugee camps in Asia, my interest to be part of your production crew in this coming summer is second to none. I look forward to your reply (I really really do) .

Yours truly, sincerely, utterly, totally.

They never tell us that the future could be this tiring. Every night I draft out cover letters in my sleep. Every morning I wake up thinking that it’s time to sleep. When one is willing to spare ten bucks on a cab fare for a 15% participation marks that accounts for a grade, something is seriously wrong.

I just did that this morning.

Half of me feels like I should fuct it all, forget the exchange. Save the money. Land myself in corners of the earth. Stay awake, shoot a couple of insanely great scenes, find a producer and beg. Just so I could make coffee for him, say for half a year? I don’t know. Maybe it’s the hair.

It is the short hair.

What more can I do. Maybe more is what I should stop doing. Or more is not enough.
“You’re doing too much work for it, all you need is to know someone in the industry.”
I have no fuckin’ idea how hard it is until now. And I’m trying hard not to try too hard.

Perhaps it’s time to expect less.

Reading about the ‘creative director’ scene in NY makes me want to sign myself up for one of those motivational camps, just so I could start believing in myself in a more specific way. And this week I learn that I will never graduate with a 3.8 GPA (or anywhere close for that matter) and my future industry will not give a finger about which institution I have slog my arse in.

And if school is about increasing the possibily of meeting one or two people that truly matter, that 40k loan is already worth the pay off.

Funny story…

I clicked on a website and got a call from New York for a Green Card Lottery. It might be sign, aside the fact that they were really pushing for a transaction. I had to deny the offer (the call).