Where I Am in Life (Or, A Fuckload of Nothing)

As time marches relentlessly forward, I find myself inexorably nearing the quarter-century mark. It wasn't too long ago that I entered my twenties, and suddenly I find myself at its midpoint. As me and Angeline observed a few weeks ago: Holy shit, we're in our mid-twenties! And at the risk of sounding like a walking cliché, I think I may be facing a quarter-life crisis.

Where am I in terms of a career? With the shitty management policy my company has towards their scholars, I have no fucking clue. I know I'm employed for the next few years, or more exactly, until August 2010, but I don't know how far, or how fast I can progress. My current situation seems good, but not so great at the same time. On the one hand, I'm being given chances to develop a new show with a group of other people, and I'm supposed to be writing a few episodes of a sitcom. These two things are pretty much set.

On the other hand, I'm also being tasked with casting a new series, which involves an entirely new cast of characters for every single episode. With each episode being the life story of a person, that's a lot of characters. Initially I was only supposed to help someone out with it, but recently it seems I've been more or less handed the whole fucking thing, which I really don't want. First, it's a shitload of work, that'll last until July at least. Second, I don't like it; it's mind-numbing, creativity-killing work, or at least I find it to be that. Third, I don't like taking over shitty jobs like that. Finally, if I do it, I can't work on anything else. My brain just will not function creatively in this situation, juggling so many different things. It's fine if everything is a mindless task, but to have to switch back and forth, often many times in the same day, is quite impossible for me. I can barely get into one mode before I have to change to another, and I just can't do it this way.

I guess I'll probably have to speak to my VP about getting out of this shit. I feel kinda bad because they only told me to help out in casting because we're shorthanded, but then again I feel that they can always hire a freelancer to do this kinda crap. Why should I be killing my brain cells when I can use them to write?

Of course the shitty pay doesn't help. I don't appreciate that all I got was a crappy S$100 pay raise. Yes, I'm aware that there are those who didn't get a raise at all. I'm also aware that for a relative newcomer, it's already considered generous. But I don't think a company should be allowed to send someone abroad on a scholarship only to pay them peanuts when they return. Judging by the rate I'm going, I'll probably only make enough to apply for a fucking credit card in, oh, maybe four years? This is unacceptable, criminal even.

I need to change my title. In the near future. Which will hopefully come with another raise. I can't be assistant director, not if I'm writing and developing stuff. Assistant directors do stupid shit, like all the bitchwork, location researching and, oh yes, casting. Which is yet another reason to cast off the burden that is casting.

Creatively, where am I? I haven't exactly been a fountain of good ideas or scripts over the last half a year. It's like I dried up or something. Most of the time I'm just too tired to bother. It's hard trying to get into the mood to write when all I want to do when I get home is zone out. And yes, like what I said, mindless work kills brain cells.

My housing situation has become more and more unacceptable. I can't deal with the bullshit that goes on at home. Angeline commented that my flat was claustrophobic when she dropped by once, and I have to agree. Toys (courtesy of my toy collector brother), CDs, books, comics, etc. are littered everywhere. I have no space to even keep them. No space for my clothes in the shared closets and drawers, no space to tidy my crap into, no space to live, no space in general. My dad is becoming more and more antagonistic towards everyone, and not a day (or hour, really) goes by without him picking a fight with someone. It's coming to the point where I live in dread every single day: I dread going to my mindless job in the day, and at night I dread coming home. I have to think of all sorts of reasons to get out of the flat on weekends, and even if I don't have any company, I'll end up walking the streets myself, just to get away from the madness.

I can't go on like this. For me at least, family seems just like a celebrity who's had one facelift too many - they're fine at a distance, but once you get close, all the cracks start to show. I really got along with everyone better when I was abroad and only came home during the holidays. If I stay too long, then everything and everyone starts getting on my nerves, and vice versa.

Besides, parents being parents, will always be a source of pressure, no matter if they mean to or not. Even if they don't nag, don't pick fights, and are nice and quiet, it doesn't help that much. The very fact that they're there gives me pressure. It's the equivalent of someone reading over your shoulder. They don't really bother you physically, but mentally, you're being fucked with.

They really need to just shut up sometimes and let me be. I hate having to report to them wherever I'm going, and to have them respond negatively if they don't approve of my activities. I'll say I'm just going to have a couple of drinks with friends, and they'll list out all the dangers of alcohol abuse. Jesus fucking Christ, I'm not even close to the stage where I have to attend AA meetings, they don't have to overreact like that. What do they think I am, five?

Initially I'd given myself a year to move out. Now it seems I have to bump it up. My new target is to move out by the end of the year. I have to do it before I go insane. I was kept up all night yesterday by my dad and my brother bickering. The worst thing is, I'd shut my door, but for some reason they decided to open it, then continue their argument, completely disregarding the fact that I was asleep. Come on, I've seen more considerate dogs!

Moving on, I have a confession to make. I'll admit it right here: I've never been in a serious relationship. There, I've said it. You can laugh now. I know it's pathetic. I really don't know why I haven't though. Well, perhaps I'm not the sort who'll readily approach people with that intent. And maybe I make myself seem unapproachable. I also don't suffer fools greatly, and am so arrogant I think that 90% of the population is stupid. Maybe that has something to do with it, ya think?

But you know what, being alone sucks. It really does.

I'm grateful to the guys for providing much-needed company, often at a moment's notice. But while I appreciate it, there are times when somehow, it's just not really enough. I call the same people over and over again to hang out, and after a while I just seem like a needy loser who's got no other friends. Or I can hang out with friends I don't often see, but that's only good for a couple of yuks. No matter what, sometimes I just want something more, something they can't really give.

I was in the elevator with a neighbor the other day and she asked me, "So when are you getting married?"

I snorted in reply, "Ha!"

And then she launched into this whole spiel about fate and meeting the right person and things like that, and I smiled and nodded and resisted the urge to punch her in the face. I know she meant well, but that really doesn't help matters, does it?

So I've done my stock take of my life thus far, and what do I have?

A fuckload of nothing, it seems.