I don't know how to meet your needs. I don't know how to help you. I don't know why you're stuck in a rut you can't get out of.

I only hear your angry words bursting in my ears. I only read the helplessness in your emails. I only see your tears through the digital flood of text that come to me every day.

If prices of property go down for you, how about the people who bought their houses a year ago? How do you think they feel? If you're telling me now to sell you a house at the price it was five years ago, and then you go and sell your house for a profit, why is this fair? How is this fair? Why is it all about you? Why do you not see the work that goes behind everything, that yes, I know that you're unhappy, but I'm TRYING. I'm trying to meet your needs. How come you don't try to meet mine?

Have we stopped trying to be satisfied, and to aspire - the word I learnt from a friend tonight - to aspire that if today, I tried to work within my means, in two, no, three years' time, I'd be able to be in a better position? Have we progressed as a nation to only stop at this level, because we have stagnated, because we cannot go any further?

I'll tell you what we need to aim for. A gracious society, an actual caring one that your existence matters in. It's not just words and fluff that we're aiming for. We're aiming for satisfaction and happiness. But are we the ones keeping ourselves from being happy?

If I had my own 24 hours, selfishly mine and not to be bothered with you and yours, what would I do?

To be practical, a good 7 hours for sleeping. That’s at night, but you can’t fault me for planning ahead. Now, what should I do on a beautiful, blue-skies day? 30 minutes of jogging around the neighbourhood, looking at the familiar roads that my ma used to drive us through to get us to school and back. Thinking about her, hoping she’s safe wherever and that she’s loved. Jogging enough to get my heart pumping and myself smiling.

Then, a breakfast of toast and half-boiled eggs with my dad. Tell him what I’ve got up my sleeves for the day, the week, but because he’s hard of hearing at times, I remind myself to speak slower and louder. Then again, he always hears things that I try to gloss over. Sneaky dad. I would also check with my sister what her plans are for the day. Wonder about our brother, wonder if he’s sleeping well. All in all, would this be 2 hours, if we give or take a shower and time to cool down?

I’d take a walk to the library, a good 20 minutes away, but because the skies are so gorgeous, the wind is just the right amount of wild, it will be a good walk. Walking through the library doors, wondering and anticipating what books I can spot and borrow today. Will it be a few on Fantasy, on dragons and magic that just colour my mind up so quickly? Will it be a whimsical Romance, just like how I used to look at Life with hopes of an idealist? I bet I’d grab ten books, four too many for the quota of six. Then I’d hem, haw, think about which books shouldn’t come home with me. Yet another two hours would slip by.

With my eco-bag filled with books, I’d wander to the supermarket and look at rows and rows of fresh (as they can get) vegetables and fruits and try to figure out how much I can carry home and how much is too much. Leave me in a supermarket, or a pharmacy, and I would walk my way through the aisles and take forever to decide on what’s a “need” and what’s a “want”. Tsk tsk, an hour already?

Carrying my loot home, I’d put things where they ought to be, and finally, oh finally I get to sit down on the couch and start reading the books I brought home. Of course, that would be after I made myself a few dishes from the cookbook that I’ve always wanted to refer to. And y’know what? I’d forget the time as the pages flip by, as the story unfolds and I wonder what’s next to come. I’d be kidding myself if I didn’t factor in time to check tweets, emails and even update my friends on how today went (fantastic!).

But because 24 hours can’t possibly be just mine alone, my imagination ends here. It was good while it lasted though.

Seven days into 2012, and what do I have for you?

A tale of my visit to a dating agency, courtesy of a friendly spur-kick by my buddy, as well as an enjoyable conversation with a stranger in another stranger's house.

( Say what?! )

Merry Christmas and happy holidays, everyone. I hope that even as the pain of 2011 ebbs away, with time, we won't forget our pitfalls, our tears, and the people around us who make us feel better and give us strength. 

Just a week more, and as much as I don't want to expect or hope too hard, please be generous to me, 2012.

I'm not getting any satisfaction with the new job.

Too much holding of my breath, waiting for the right understanding of things, and I just don't seem to be able to get people to understand that teaching is learning as well. I'm not a slow learner, in fact, if you took the time to get more organised, you'd benefit from me being finally able to help you out.

I'm itching to get back into actual comms work. What I face every day - and I dread - is the endless streams of anger, disappointment, unforgiving rants from my countrymen. To what extent do I grit my teeth and carry on, if I cannot make a difference? To what extent do I fight for your case, if you think we're out to get you?

I'm really not getting any satisfaction with the new job. Not yet, but please let me feel like I'm in control soon.