The Mother Of All Screw-Ups (for now).
I'm so tired I can't even begin to describe what went wrong last night. Suffice to ssay I got an earful today, thankfully dulled by my half-awake senses. And all this due to myself going home 'early' (read: 1.15 am).
FYI all this is made worse by the fact that the person who is as responsible for the cock-up as myself is not here this morning. So in effect, I have to take the fall.
*sigh*
A good way to start your day. Oh well. Accipere quam facere praestat injuriam.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
.:What we need:.
I am stuck in the office at 10:30pm. Not doing much, to be honest. Just sitting here, waiting for a report to be published. I tell you, GRCM is nothing but the devil in disguise, its sole aim and purpose in life being to make the lives of RAs and analysts as tough and as challenging as possible. If only I could give the DTP and SA teams a kick on their collective behind... just once. Okay? I won't ask for anything else for the next 10 zillion years, if only I could take a swing at that tantalisingly swaying toosh... please? pretty please? with a cherry on top? A REALLY big cherry even??
Come to think of it, there're still so many things I've yet to achieve with my life that I don't think I'd wish to shorten it by any amount of years simply for the pleasure of socking it to the authorities. Nor am I so self-sufficient as to not require any divine intervention for the next 10 zillion years, assuming I live that long.
*sigh* The pain of being a self-doubting critic.
Quote of the day:
'"You zee" said he, "it iz te bess vor zit still; and now you shall know who I be. Look at me! Zee! I am te Angel ov te Odd."
"And odd enough, too," I ventured to reply; "but I was always under the impression that an angel had wings."
"Te wing! vat vud I do mit te wing? Mein Gott! Do you take me vor a schicken??"'
- Poe, The Angel of the Odd
Come to think of it, there're still so many things I've yet to achieve with my life that I don't think I'd wish to shorten it by any amount of years simply for the pleasure of socking it to the authorities. Nor am I so self-sufficient as to not require any divine intervention for the next 10 zillion years, assuming I live that long.
*sigh* The pain of being a self-doubting critic.
Quote of the day:
'"You zee" said he, "it iz te bess vor zit still; and now you shall know who I be. Look at me! Zee! I am te Angel ov te Odd."
"And odd enough, too," I ventured to reply; "but I was always under the impression that an angel had wings."
"Te wing! vat vud I do mit te wing? Mein Gott! Do you take me vor a schicken??"'
- Poe, The Angel of the Odd
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
.:I mutter, therefore I am (slightly):.
You know, I could actually begin (for the umpteenth time) by apologising to you, dear readers, for the lack of updates; and appealing to your gentle sensitivities for some understanding as to why I have not, in all honesty, been paying much attention to my blog @ CNA (channel news Ahmad) @ about the only way you can keep track of me, unless you're: (a) Farah (b) My parents (c) close friends (d) a stalker (Please delete where appropriate).
But I won't do that. ("Boy, that was a long-winded way to say something" - Internal Editor @ Resident conspiracy theorist)
Anyway, my brains are (yes, I have two brains, if you must ask, you pedantic muppet) officially stir-fried to heck. Results season went by without a hitch (albeit the majority of them came out last minute, by which time I was already on my CFA study leave, leaving Yiits with all the work - and for that I do *snicker* apologise*snicker*). I've got models to finish, reports to write, things to do. Plenty of things to do, but I can't really be bothered about them now. For you see, I am getting engaged.
Yes. Repeat after me. E-N-G-A-G-E-D. On the 1st of July. Insya-Allah.
Yes. Almost exactly one year to the day the shit hit the fan, I'm finding myself pleasantly bemused by the sight of so many diamond rings on display at Habib Jewels, while the salesman/saleswoman continues his pleasant and affable chatter just so he could wrangle as much of my hard-earned cash as possible out of my back pocket. I must admit, I know absolutely boll**ks about diamonds, but with so many friends already engaged and married, that should not be too much of a problem.
There is no feeling like it, you know? When she laughs, it is as if the world stands still for a second and all you can hear is the pleasant tinkling of bells in the distance, the delighted murmur of a brook gurgling in your back garden, the gentle breeze on a hot summers' day. All that is pleasant is she, and you are blind to her faults. Indeed, if the love is requited, she would be blind to yours too. It is a ridiculous thing, love. You do foolish things, you cut your heart to pieces, you pine for her all the time without fail. Your world seems desolate without her by your side. And then you're together, and you're sated, satisfied, happy. But for how long? One day, you will be separated, either by fate, or by the impenetrable boundaries that separate this world from the next. You know that. Deep in your heart you know that. But you still love her. Why?
Because, dear fool, love is madness. It is the triumph of the imagination over intelligence. To fear love is to fear life, and to fear life is to already be dead.
(Editor - "you sure you're not on drugs?")
But I won't do that. ("Boy, that was a long-winded way to say something" - Internal Editor @ Resident conspiracy theorist)
Anyway, my brains are (yes, I have two brains, if you must ask, you pedantic muppet) officially stir-fried to heck. Results season went by without a hitch (albeit the majority of them came out last minute, by which time I was already on my CFA study leave, leaving Yiits with all the work - and for that I do *snicker* apologise*snicker*). I've got models to finish, reports to write, things to do. Plenty of things to do, but I can't really be bothered about them now. For you see, I am getting engaged.
Yes. Repeat after me. E-N-G-A-G-E-D. On the 1st of July. Insya-Allah.
Yes. Almost exactly one year to the day the shit hit the fan, I'm finding myself pleasantly bemused by the sight of so many diamond rings on display at Habib Jewels, while the salesman/saleswoman continues his pleasant and affable chatter just so he could wrangle as much of my hard-earned cash as possible out of my back pocket. I must admit, I know absolutely boll**ks about diamonds, but with so many friends already engaged and married, that should not be too much of a problem.
There is no feeling like it, you know? When she laughs, it is as if the world stands still for a second and all you can hear is the pleasant tinkling of bells in the distance, the delighted murmur of a brook gurgling in your back garden, the gentle breeze on a hot summers' day. All that is pleasant is she, and you are blind to her faults. Indeed, if the love is requited, she would be blind to yours too. It is a ridiculous thing, love. You do foolish things, you cut your heart to pieces, you pine for her all the time without fail. Your world seems desolate without her by your side. And then you're together, and you're sated, satisfied, happy. But for how long? One day, you will be separated, either by fate, or by the impenetrable boundaries that separate this world from the next. You know that. Deep in your heart you know that. But you still love her. Why?
Because, dear fool, love is madness. It is the triumph of the imagination over intelligence. To fear love is to fear life, and to fear life is to already be dead.
(Editor - "you sure you're not on drugs?")
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