We'll burn burn burn burn

Spending lunchtime in-office, I'm drinking awful coffee from whichever third world country and I'm typing away like its some kind of release. Part of my morning was spent in the stationery room shredding paper after paper. Press releases, ancient corresponding letters, angry demanding emails, past generation's invoices contracts feedback forms, previously important facts and figures and charts and intelligent notes and shorthands and useless inaccurate name cards and whatnot. I stuffed these into the buzzing machine for a whole hour and now back at my seat, I can still here that buzzing, paper crushing+shredding sound in my ear. It doesn't help that the air-conditioner above my head sounds like it too.

I shredded paper and while the task itself required not much of a working brain, I thought ridiculous thoughts that only people like me will have. (I do not have the words to describe myself so if you think you identify with it then I was referring to people like you too.)
The first thing that struck me was the death of trees. I had visions of documentaries I've watched on trees being chopped and cut and processed into planks and into papers. And now these papers are being put into a somewhat similar but minuscule process, and the fact that most of the papers are half blank and still white and clean, I felt for the trees.

And then I thought about train track suicides. How last year (or was it the year before?) that there were a string of deaths (accidental or no) involving people dying on MRT tracks. Not that I've witnessed it myself, but i could imagine the bones crushing under the train and the sound of it and the mess that comes after it.

And then I thought I was like those dreamy girls picking on flower petals, like there's some sort of dilemma I have in my head. I look like a dreamy idiot shredding paper and thinking about lost love. He loves me.. he loves me not.. Oh gee.

Then I got cooler and thought maybe I looked more like one of those emotional teenagers feeding lost hopes and dreams into the shredder, each paper a symbol of disappointment of sorts. Or maybe I am a silent revengeful person whose shredding papers as though they were superiors I was upset with.

And then I thought about a scene in CSI Las Vegas, where the team had to find clues or evidence from a pile of shredded paper in the bin. And if I were in such a cool team and I get a groundbreaking clue or a problem solving evidence from piecing together shredded papers, I will be the coolest person on earth.

I blame these thoughts solely on the IPP program itself as it has turned us into tired, stressed no-lifers with a mind that works in a heartbreaking manner.

Suddenly everyone in the office (those around me, actually) seemed to be spring cleaning their desks and throwing/shredding/dusting about. With the shock of the departure of my supervisor from the company still fresh, suddenly the fear of my one and only colleague leaving is lurking. While this is likely not to happen, suddenly I feel like the thick scaffolding of the miniature marketing department of my IPP company. Which is stressful, scary and very educational. Heh.

I shall not complain about the more heavier tasks that made my heart sink into my bile-ful organ. I shall believe that this, is all part and parcel, of education.

Patience is a virtue.


After all, we're only at Monday.