...and inevitably I impale myself.
Frankly, I am amazed by my own foolhardiness.
Stupidity, rashness, impulsiveness, insensitivity, inflexibility, wilfulness, stubborn-ness...what more?
Yes, I am simply operating on an automaton's level. Seems like both my IQ and my EQ have rotted beyond numerical definition. And I am ashamed at how I have fallen into this state of mental/intellectual/emotional numbness, like some dumb bimbo who doesn't have a hair's breadth of an idea what she's doing. Just alive, just alive, not living.
I cannot forget him. Too many people seem to have the same name, seem to have some similar facial features...what the hell. And I am going to let the other one down.
I really don't know what I'm doing with my life, where I'm going, and how I'm going to get anything vaguely resembling goal-fulfilment done. And when.
This is pathetic.
I broke down in tears in front of my boss today. He was going to fire me after one too many transgressions and I was ready to be fired. Suddenly the remorse and guilt took over, because I knew how good all these people are and how much they do like me, and how much I have let them down. So I cried like some weak little school-girl being reprimanded for her stupid narrow-minded shallow crimes, or like some petty criminal facing a few strokes of the cane.
I used to believe that I was stronger than this.
I used to believe that I knew what I wanted and where I was headed, and how I was going to achieve all that.
All it took to derail all this was you.
What the fuck.
At least wish me a happy birthday.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Taxi Drivers: The Unnerving Species
Public transport can get really entertaining when you stand an unavoidable chance of having an intimate one-to-one interaction with a complete stranger.
Alright, I'll admit I'm spending way too much of my commuting time in cabs. Maybe I should have learnt how to drive or something, but that's just a digression from my topic for now.
Taxi Drivers. Service personnel of our esteemed public transport industry. A fascinating study of human behaviour. A complex blend of oddities. Love them, hate them, vent on them, ignore them, belittle them, fear them, respect them...what should we do?
There're the Sideliners who're anything from filial sons and ultra-supportive buddies to used-car salesmen, plumbers, air-con repairmen, insurance agents, contractors, shipyard-managers, Malaysian businessmen and even the odd bouncer or terrorist-lookalike. They try to offer you additional services outside of the cab-ride, during the cab-ride, as if dangling a bonus in front of your captive nose. Namecards shoved in your hands at traffic light stops, not-so-subtle speeches persuading you to become his new customer, nudging you to try him in times of need in the future...I try my best not to roll my eyes at these folk...but sometimes holding down or handling a dual-career gives interesting perspectives to life and makes these folk sources for rather good advice, if you ask the right questions. At best you get a good conversation throughout the course of the trip, at worst you become the receiving point of a long-winded, self-absorbed tirade.
There're the Mumblers, the silent ones who only utter monosyllables or barely audible questions. Very basic, yet master manipulators, these fellows can even utilise silence to their advantage. A long, inquiring, sometimes rather withering/offensive look through the rear-view mirror can mean a whole plethora of statements, including:
"So, where do you want to go?" or
"Now...are you going to put that sandwich away or do I have to verbally express my displeasure at your eating in my vehicle?" or
"I am not amused at your ability to put on make-up in a moving vehicle, and I'm going to try to make you mess up your eyebrow-drawing, so there, hyukhyukhyuk..." or
"When are you going to stop groping around for your money in the darkness back there and pay me the fare?"
I fairly appreciate the mumblers, because I do treasure some quiet time and a cabbie who understands the value of silence.
However, some are passive-aggressive, repressed, rather psychotic individuals who truly frighten the guts out of me. They drive like demons, probably imagining the roads as their personal Formula One race track, accelerating and braking so heavily the passenger stands a great risk of going green and giving back to the environment what was eaten an hour before. The worse thing is I'm a sucker for motion sickness and can go car-sick without warning, so I have a rather healthy phobia of these Angry Mumblers. These fellows need some kind of hotline, an Angry Cabbies Anonymous or something. Whatever's causing them so much pent-up frustration has got to be let out in better ways than stomping on the brakes and the accelerator, making reckless curves, overtaking dangerously, being a general road and passenger bully, and swearing under one's breath.
A rather frightening example I encountered recently was a really old dude who was dressed in a garish windbreaker which hid his rather shrunken bony frame. He may have looked aged and frail, with the complimenting cough and all, but boy, was his driving aggressive! My colleagues and I had to distract ourselves from the constant rush of impending terror by chattering mindlessly about our pets...what a roller-coaster that was.
Then again, there's also the Reverse-Agony-Cabbie.
One thing I must say: there're really nice, amicable taxi-drivers out there who really do seem to care and are willing to lend a listening ear to our complaints...even offering priceless advice sometimes. I'm glad to say I've met these more than once, though very rarely...Sincere, honest individuals who do seem to like their jobs and their lives and won't mind offering an alternative opinion or perspective on a certain problematic situation, constructive or otherwise. These can make your day, really.
The Reverse-Agony-Cabbie a.k.a Whiners, on the other hand, can seriously break your day. These fellows are absolutely craving for Agony Aunties, possibly desperately waiting for the next vulnerable empathetic/sympathetic female individual to come along and take their cab. Then they make some lame excuse of a conversation starter and launch into their endless symphony of complaints, grouses, frustrations, and general whinging. And you end up a helpless, exasperated captive audience, slowly but steadily getting tainted by the tidal waves of general sourness, frustrations, and unhappiness with life. Oh the horror.
There're probably more species of cabbies, like the Lechers and the Overly-Friendly Enthusiasts, but I guess the above suffices for now...more later, perhaps.
Alright, I'll admit I'm spending way too much of my commuting time in cabs. Maybe I should have learnt how to drive or something, but that's just a digression from my topic for now.
Taxi Drivers. Service personnel of our esteemed public transport industry. A fascinating study of human behaviour. A complex blend of oddities. Love them, hate them, vent on them, ignore them, belittle them, fear them, respect them...what should we do?
There're the Sideliners who're anything from filial sons and ultra-supportive buddies to used-car salesmen, plumbers, air-con repairmen, insurance agents, contractors, shipyard-managers, Malaysian businessmen and even the odd bouncer or terrorist-lookalike. They try to offer you additional services outside of the cab-ride, during the cab-ride, as if dangling a bonus in front of your captive nose. Namecards shoved in your hands at traffic light stops, not-so-subtle speeches persuading you to become his new customer, nudging you to try him in times of need in the future...I try my best not to roll my eyes at these folk...but sometimes holding down or handling a dual-career gives interesting perspectives to life and makes these folk sources for rather good advice, if you ask the right questions. At best you get a good conversation throughout the course of the trip, at worst you become the receiving point of a long-winded, self-absorbed tirade.
There're the Mumblers, the silent ones who only utter monosyllables or barely audible questions. Very basic, yet master manipulators, these fellows can even utilise silence to their advantage. A long, inquiring, sometimes rather withering/offensive look through the rear-view mirror can mean a whole plethora of statements, including:
"So, where do you want to go?" or
"Now...are you going to put that sandwich away or do I have to verbally express my displeasure at your eating in my vehicle?" or
"I am not amused at your ability to put on make-up in a moving vehicle, and I'm going to try to make you mess up your eyebrow-drawing, so there, hyukhyukhyuk..." or
"When are you going to stop groping around for your money in the darkness back there and pay me the fare?"
I fairly appreciate the mumblers, because I do treasure some quiet time and a cabbie who understands the value of silence.
However, some are passive-aggressive, repressed, rather psychotic individuals who truly frighten the guts out of me. They drive like demons, probably imagining the roads as their personal Formula One race track, accelerating and braking so heavily the passenger stands a great risk of going green and giving back to the environment what was eaten an hour before. The worse thing is I'm a sucker for motion sickness and can go car-sick without warning, so I have a rather healthy phobia of these Angry Mumblers. These fellows need some kind of hotline, an Angry Cabbies Anonymous or something. Whatever's causing them so much pent-up frustration has got to be let out in better ways than stomping on the brakes and the accelerator, making reckless curves, overtaking dangerously, being a general road and passenger bully, and swearing under one's breath.
A rather frightening example I encountered recently was a really old dude who was dressed in a garish windbreaker which hid his rather shrunken bony frame. He may have looked aged and frail, with the complimenting cough and all, but boy, was his driving aggressive! My colleagues and I had to distract ourselves from the constant rush of impending terror by chattering mindlessly about our pets...what a roller-coaster that was.
Then again, there's also the Reverse-Agony-Cabbie.
One thing I must say: there're really nice, amicable taxi-drivers out there who really do seem to care and are willing to lend a listening ear to our complaints...even offering priceless advice sometimes. I'm glad to say I've met these more than once, though very rarely...Sincere, honest individuals who do seem to like their jobs and their lives and won't mind offering an alternative opinion or perspective on a certain problematic situation, constructive or otherwise. These can make your day, really.
The Reverse-Agony-Cabbie a.k.a Whiners, on the other hand, can seriously break your day. These fellows are absolutely craving for Agony Aunties, possibly desperately waiting for the next vulnerable empathetic/sympathetic female individual to come along and take their cab. Then they make some lame excuse of a conversation starter and launch into their endless symphony of complaints, grouses, frustrations, and general whinging. And you end up a helpless, exasperated captive audience, slowly but steadily getting tainted by the tidal waves of general sourness, frustrations, and unhappiness with life. Oh the horror.
There're probably more species of cabbies, like the Lechers and the Overly-Friendly Enthusiasts, but I guess the above suffices for now...more later, perhaps.
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