from junkyard to cbd

I composed an entry earlier this morning but all was wiped out because my pc went kaput and I had not saved the file. Sigh.

I wrote about my experience at shenton way. I wrote about how I missed the cbd march and longed to be part of the contingent one day. I wrote about coming back to a seat that has memorized my curves. While I fell back into the comfort zone I have demarcated, my pc acted up.

Apparently, the power supply has been cut off. With no warning, rhyme nor reason, the screen blacked out and the cpu could not be revived. I bade it goodbye and relocated to the seat opposite my current. Dearie called it a promotion and boy is it a promotion to celebrate about.

I now swear sisterhood with newspapers, boxes and empty files. My new position as “warehouse manager” allows me to work off a dim CRT, windows 2000, and a 391,536KB Ram (not sure how slow/lousy that is but I know my laptop has 3gb ram?). I tried to make it play some music but realize there is no sound output. Argh. With all that in consideration, it is perhaps a downgrade more than a promotion?

In another light, this seat is giving me another perspective to the office I work in. it’s a secluded corner and I have a wall on the right of me and half a partition behind me. Good thing I’m not claustrophobic; I kind of like the “security” the partition and wall are giving me. It feels more “contained” in some ways.

I am reminiscing the clattering noise of cbd march. I like the glitzy array of fashion ladies dorn and suave men all over the place. A little part of me questioned if I will one day be in that contingent.

You know, have an office over looking some parts of the cbd. Like May puts it “reserving seats with tissue paper”.. dressed in suit, pencil skirts, heels and coach bags. I just want to be a true professional. Work in a professional environment. Do some meaningful work. Make some important decisions.

I dream. And I can still hear the clatter of heels at the back of my head.