And because I spend nigh on to eight hours a day trapped in a stifling little claustrophobic room with five other people facing an overbright computer monitor, I have no wish to do the same at home. Even for two hours. My eyes are bloodshot and they hurt.

So yes, my well of words has dried up. Boohoohoo. Not that there was anything much written in the last couple of months.

***

Everyone tells me that I am really lucky to have escaped the clutches of the evil Empire (i.e. Teachers' College). That it is a blessing in disguise that I don't have to face kids that attempt to set you on fire, that I don't have to be sent for counselling because I don't fit into the cookie cutter mode of normal, functional, human beings as defined by the Institution, that I don't have to face over-indulgent parents and their precious terrors.

I can't help but feel that they are just consoling me on the sad and inescapable fact that I am extremely bad at selling myself to the slavedom of the workforce.

Right now, all I can tell you about my job is my pay. I know good honours graduates command a nice, fat, starting paycheck. I end up getting employed at a salary that is commonly associated with someone, who joined the workforce straight after their O Levels.

That is in itself, another indication of failure in my daddy's eyes. Strangely enough, my usual critic (i.e. Mom) is extremely supportive over my choice. She isn't thrilled over the size of my paycheck, but she is happy that I am relatively content in my work environment. Although I must admit if I want to survive here in Singapore, plan for a wedding and a family, I have to set my sights on a different career choice.

Everything is topsy-turvy these days. I feel a little lost.