Last week, a heart was lost. My heart. When probed why, I told my brother “Hilang stim sikit lah last week”. And that’s exactly it. I lost some steam.
For 10 days I disappeared off the cyberworld and maintained minimal Twitter presence. It’s become a habit of mine to just wander off into oblivion when I’m feeling blue and hope the world wouldn’t notice. Or maybe I secretly wanted people to notice.
Now, what the fuck was my problem, anyways? I really can’t say. It was like a cyclone gathering speed, you know, just waiting to happen. But if I had to sum it all, I’d say this: self-esteem, down down down.
The matter of fact is, people who did matter noticed. And that’s kept me going. Your simple tweet, quick but concerned phone call, skype date or blog update about my MIA-ness has in fact been the negative feedback in my loop of self-esteem depreciation. Thanks, precious people!
I’m a fourth year at The UofC, and for four years I’ve been surrounded by excessively intelligent and eloquent people who achieve milestones by milestones, reaping awards and success like nobody’s business. I really felt like that jaguh kampung who taught she was awe-bulous because she won a scholarship to the US. Here, I get by with a 46/100, as long as I’m slightly above or below the mean, and a B is an A-okay. Sekarang baru aku tahu langit tinggi rendah. Now, tell me, how far down the road I’ve come along?
But of course, I know and understand those As back in Malaysia were meaningless (I mean, yes, they took me where I am now). But what I mean is that I believe that “academics shouldn’t get in the way of my education”. Yeah, and that’s sort of my problem. I feel that I haven’t done much the past 4 years here besides some minor engagements with tutoring, MSA, MASA, cultural shows and other jaguh kampung stuff. So I took it to heart that I was going to achieve something this year.
Then I applied, and got rejected. And applied again for a different thing, and got rejected. I’m not just dejected by the rejection, but just overall pissed that I discovered this vicious conundrum: you can’t get a start somewhere unless you’re given a start before that. So basically, one who’s not had the chance to start, can’t ever START, contradicting what the American Dream purports.
Also, I took my rejection from the Microfinance Initiative very, very personally. The group is led by second years in the College who think they’re awesome because they were the founders and pioneer batch and have met Muhammad Yunus. Awesome my ass. I arrived for my interview for the position of Research Associate, dressed in business casual as I was instructed, only to find my incompetent interviewer in jeans and boots. And how is that professional on their part again?
Ah, and why was she incompetent? So I was talking about how I’m concerned with the reality of Grameen Bank on the ground, about how some developmental economics studies and human rights studies have shown how microfinance could negatively affect power dynamics in the homes of the loan recipients and suggested reevaluating Grameen Bank’s evolution from its inception and now.
Offended and taking my critical perspective personally, Incompetent Interviewer X indignantly offered “Well, you know that we met Muhammad Yunus last year, right? He was so inspiring” while giving me that one-eyebrow-raised look I just feel like slapping now that I’m recalling all this. Then, she went on being all-defensive and let the bomb drop, “Besides, it’s a newly founded initiative . .” to which I quickly disagreed because I knew for a fact that Grameen Bank is NOT new, come on, it was founded circa 1975. At least, wiki your facts lah if you want to interview people about Microfinance. Shame on you Incompetent Interviewer X.
So we obviously didn’t hit it off and in a way I’m glad I was rejected because I would have bitched about the leadership all year long anyways. Anyhow, shame on UCMI for being such an elitist group. I would have opened my doors to anyone genuinely enthusiastic in contributing to my organization.
Taking a step back, this post is pretty much me venting my anger. All estrogen and hot air. But listen, in that same week I was feeling really down, I dreamt again and again that I was peeing (yes, literally peeing) on myself. Dream Moods Dictionary says that
To dream that you are urinating symbolizes a cleansing and a release of negative or repressed emotions. Depending on your dream context, urination is symbolic of having or lacking basic control of your life. You are literally “pissed off” and not expressing yourself in a positive and constructive manner. . . Alternatively, your dream symbolizes your lacking sense of self worth.
So I need this one blog post to rant and rant and rant because who wants to relentlessly dream that she’s pissing on herself, right? I mean, it’s just so euw. And yeah, I’ve been told I beat myself up too much. I wish I could physically do it. Strike a jab on my jaw, give my flat nose a whopping blow, gain a black eye or two.
But I guess I have too much self-love to hurt myself. Hehe, so you don’t have to pick up the phone to call a Suicide hotline on my behalf or something. Never going down that road, InsyaAllah, I sayang badan oi. But seriously, the sun is lurking in the horizon somewhere, I promise.