All grown up and nowhere to go

Archive for January 2008

It almost felt like a marathon run. My FIIM Prof got us all demo accounts for trading spot FX and now I am thoroughly hooked. The adrenaline rush of seeing my losses jump from 1000 to 2000 to 3000 to 4000 is just way too much, especially when they then turn black and I whoop for joy.

 I’m still figuring out whether there’s a trick to this. Whether, on a real account, they will fleece transaction costs out of you that the margin gets depressed. Because so far, when I follow my strategy, I can hit steady gains most of the time (unless the market turns topsy turvy). So there must be a trick. Making money can’t be this easy!

 ‘Cos if it is… then I’m quitting ma job, borrowing $50k, and hitting that FX market.

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It’s true what they say about poems. They mean different things to different people, at different times and different situations. When I wrote the poem yesterday, I didn’t mean it to be so sad. Or literal. It was basically inspired by me not being able to find the BA II Plus financial calculator handbook. But then tonight I discovered that I had written the future.

I feel so lost… Directionless. I’m not sure what to do. I think I am at the brink of losing something great. But I’m helpless now. I’ve swum against the tide for so long that now it’s up to the waves whether I sink or swim. And the waves, they are staying silent.

The silence is maddening. All sorts of crazy thoughts run through my head when the silence begins. All sorts of scary, scary questions. Does he, does he not. What, why, how. But mostly the what’s.

What have I done now?

What has gone so wrong so suddenly?

What if I’d never done that?

And then I realize craziness isn’t good for you. Unhealthy. To be so filled with self-doubt and self-loathing. It screws you up from the inside out.

The thing is, I don’t know whether to give up or chalk it as yet another silly little thing. But there’ve been way too many silly little things, and suddenly the littles have grown big. Something has to change. If it’s not us, together, then it has to be us, separate.

I’ve said far too many things. Some things that shouldn’t have been said. Things that should have been said in another way. I’ve blurted them all out in an attempt to fill the deadly silence. I’m scared of the silence. The silence is cold, loveless. The silence is suffocating, shrouded in a mystery so thick I just have to crack it, break it like a glass. And then we hurt more.

I’m waiting for the waves.

Crying for the places I may now never visit, the experiences unexperienced. The joy, the hope, the faith in love. In us.

And to think, two hours ago, we were so…

(I can’t find the word I’m looking for.)

This is the city where everything disappears.
The jewellery box, passed down from your grandmother.
A pair of shoes.
Letters from him. Letters and postcards with big, hand-drawn hearts.
The keys… Where are the keys.
Yesterday’s newspapers.
The diary you kept since you were nine.
The tears you shed when you left him and the hugs you received from your friends.
The noises, cars driving by, workers humming a tune.
The sun.
Joy, then faith, then hope.

And then…
You.

I’ve just received the CFA curriculum yesterday night. When my maid shouted saying someone sent me a huge heavy package, my first thought was YZ. But as soon as I saw it I knew it was nothing like a romantic package.

Practical and professional-looking, the box was silently shouting to be opened. The Practical Guide to CFA Preparation popped out and I threw it aside, staring at the stack of books in the depths of the box. I tried to take one out and almost twisted my arm.

So I spent an exciting Friday night at home wrapping 6 109-tonne books. It was kind of therapeutic. So long as I don’t flip them open and start reading, I’m all stress-free. Have a feeling I’ll have to draw up a study schedule just to finish reading all of them. And oh, I’ll have to bring at least 2 of the lightest books up to London / Europe. Sobs.

Hmmm… Something’s not right. It’s just… off. Weird. But vat can I do?

This post is about being motionless in all the meanings of the word.

 YZ has flown off back to London. Won’t get to see him for at least another 3 months. I need to book my flight there and book it soon, but I’m kinda afraid of telling my parents that I want to spend at least a month overseas for a grad trip cum boyfriend visit. It’s all fine and dandy if I can afford the trip on my own, but if they disapprove they have the financial strength to stop me from going. So I’m just really scared.

 Anyway. Now that he’s gone, it’s like the motion picture has ended and normal life has to resume. No more cabbing to his place and then walking over to Cold Storage to buy donuts and groceries. Ordering Mac breakfast for him and waiting for him to reach my place. Attempting to study / plan our trip and ending up playing online poker instead. Watching rented DVDs and driving over to Macs in the midst of it because of hunger pangs. The occasional splurge at Orchard. And when he crashed my BP class, he was online shopping for a pair of sneaks from Paul Smith on sale. On impulse (because I just found out I wasn’t gonna be jobless after all) I told him to use my debit card to pay with. He obliged, since his HSBC one wasn’t working.

 His absence just made it all the more obvious how difficult this is gonna be. Especially if he keeps telling me how fat my cheeks are. *Sigh*. Life’s hard.

I can’t seem to get anything together. My citizenship application is still pending, my CFA registration is still pending (because the scholarship code isn’t working), I’ve still got to take fresh passport-sized pictures for job purposes… I guess the latest one was quite a flaky complaint, but then again I can barely walk at normal speed so it really is that troublesome to move my butt down to a photo studio.

The Reason Why I Can Barely Walk at Normal Speed

Last Sunday, after sending YZ off, I was lying on my couch reading Gossip Girl. Fell asleep. Felt uncomfortable on the couch and wanted to shift to my room to continue my nappy nap. Groggily woke up, felt giddy because of a blood condition I have which causes a lack of oxygen. I saw some obstacle blocking my way (think it was my sis or something), tried to avoid it, then tripped. Left foot gave way, something snapped, and then I screamed. It. Was. Fucking. Painful.

Two A&E visits and days later, discovered that not only did I:

a) fracture the side bone
(me: ‘is it what you’ll call a hairline fracture?’
doctor: ‘no. It is a fracture. A small one, but a fracture.’)

I also

b) tore a ligament
(orthopedic: ‘we’ll need to do an MRI, it might be torn completely and you’d have to go for surgery.’
me: ‘what’s the probability that a trip will cause a complete tear?’
orthopedic: ‘… we’ll see after the MRI.’).

So in a day I busted over $1.5k on medical bills and received more drugs than I can pop inside my mouth. Anti-swelling, painkillers, calcium tablets, muscle relaxants, anti-muscle relaxants… Some to be taken after food, three times a day, twice a day, once every morning while avoiding caffeine, twice a day before food, at bedtime… blah di blah di blah. I’d need to draw up a diagram just to get them all right.

 And I get to wear a brace, supposedly for 8 weeks! Yippee! Now what I’ll do is, once the swelling goes down (and it is… very slowly… but it is…) I’d just wear the brace around the house. I can’t keep wearing my mum’s oversized driving slippers to school. It drives me nuts.

 To suspend my life in vacuum for a little bit longer, I’m gonna watch Gossip Girl and pretend that nothing is happening. No school. No injured foot. No boyfriend flying off to acquire a Brit accent (Dr Tan, I want to hear that accent soon! Haha).

I love you. 😦