You know those peanut treats? The ones found in Melaka, or Penang, or Ipoh*…
Those crispy, oblong or cube-cut treats of what seems like peanut dust caught in sweet, thin wafers? I found those on the kitchen table this afternoon. I had just returned from school and immediately my eyes pealed wide open, and I roared, “OH MY GOSH YOU ARE MY MOST FAVOURITE TREAT IN THE WORLD!” to the empty echoes of the house.
To me, they always tasted like what I would imagine what Manna would taste like, because the Bible always described it as crisp, thin, white wafers that tasted of honey. That’s what those peanut treats taste like, minus the peanut.
Later on in the afternoon, I woke up to a pen stuck in between my fingers and my neck craned towards the window, as if looking upwards at the sky. How strange a position to find myself in. Let alone open my eyes to after an afternoon nap. How annoying a position that produced a now aching neck. How apt to describe my position in life right now.
A pen in my hand, head in the skies, and getting a little sore from that searching.
Today is the last day of my formal education. Everyday from now, anxiety meets me. Its especially hard because it seems like everything I’ve ever worked towards, seems like just not enough. Its like I’ve spent myself building to a sufficient point, but they ended up wanting something else.
Throughout my life I’ve wrote so much, but then I found out this writing I’ve been doing isn’t what they want and it isn’t enough. They don’t want the descriptive, they want the straightforward, so I moulded into that. Then they said they wanted great command of English, so I gave them that. Then they wanted a strong command of Malay, and mine is so poor, I ask beggars to spare me a couple.
The things employers are looking for, sure I fulfill some of them, but not all. I have not acquired such “contacts” that you speak of. I hate “networking”. And asking long hours out of me is like asking me to be unproductive at best. I’m not afraid of hard work, its just I know when and how I’m most productive. I’ve grown accustomed to working in short bursts of intensity, with the rest of those hours being me resting and dying in rest.
This life has got me in strange positions. Thinking I want something, then totally turning my body in a different direction. Awkward angles, and I’m not sure how to detangle myself. I keep feeling like, even if I somehow managed to deliver all of that, there’s still more that they will want of me, and I won’t be able to do all that.
A dog chasing his own tail. That’s how I feel.
*excuse my Malaysian Geography. It might not be right.