Brusheff

Time to call for a halt for twadles. On to serious stuff.

According to a wise fren of mine, the fact that I can't see myself in five, let alone ten, years time is a bad sign. Especially since i'm turning two fat decades old by october first next year.

How can i possibly envision myself? Heck, i didn't even know or expect myself to get this far - to pursue my undergraduate years in business school. Never in my wildest expectations would i have presumed that i, a full-on science stream student, would lay my hands on business theories and strategies. Who would've expected one's very first ambition kicked off from being a pilot to a forensic scientist to a journalist to a rocket scientist to an interior designer to an architect and finally, to a business diplomat.

OK anyone can tell i was bullshitting about the rocket scientist bit. And anyone can also tell that with my half-blind vision, i am physically unfit as a pilot candidate.

*sigh* Like it's not bad enough that i'm struggling for survival with my current courses which has subsequently deteriorated my self-esteem and dignity. Now that i have someone who verbally vomited that not having my life planned out ahead of me is a bad indicator is like adding mayonaise to a plate full of freshly fried calamari rings, or onion rings, or whatever rings you prefer.

Hmm. Doesn't really make any sense, does it? Pfft. Emphasises my lack of intellectual capacity.

What i'm trying to get at is that getting negative reassurance just makes it a lot... Umm...

Well let's just say that i'm caught up in torn state-of-mind [if any].

I'm kinda torn between being completely demotivated, that i do not see the point of furthering my studies within the grades of a bright scholar, and otherwise. Demotivation was reflected during my accounting exam whereby i failed to complete the last two pages of my paper and yet, i found myself feeling not guilty or concerned about it. My head was genuinely fcuked up at that point in time and so therefore, the messages that were transmitted to my brain were, "Fcuk it. i'm not bothered. i can't wait to get back home to catch up with my lost hours of sleep."

However, do note that i do not take pride in my doings. In that one especially. In fact, typing that out takes a hell lot of courage as i am now haunted with a huge cloud of guilty conscience above my head. And also, not forgetting to mention the embarrasment of my disgraceful behaviour. Ugh.

On the other hand, feeling bad about this whole fiasco has also made me more determined to deny my failure; that i am convinced that what has happened was a mistake that was not to be repeated [for the third time]. I could do better than that.

I hope.

But the latter sentiment is taking charge of me now. I just hope that in one way or the other, i will come around eventually. And hopefully, before the eleventh hour.