Give me a hug and tell me that things will be all right

I am still in my ranting mode.

Oh no. There’s no more White Blonde. The 700ml beer that I bought just now.

Feeling fucked up. I don’t mean I’m drunk or that I’m going to puck or anything like that. Feeling horrid from being rejected yet from another job interview. Which was conducted by 2 Singaporeans. How’s that for fuck sake?

Why the fuck am I using so much vulgarity on my blog?

Anyway, the author of the career guidance book “What Colour is Your Parachute” wrote that going for interviews is like going for (romantic) dates. It’s like a date where you find out whether both parties are interested in each other.

I have been interested in all my “dates” (interviews). But they are not interested in me. I feel ugly, undesirable. All my “dates” have rejected me. Not logical, I know. But my ego fucking feels bruised. That’s right. Maybe it’s an ego issue.


I feel horrid.

I could do with a hug now. And someone will tell that “Joseph, everything’s going to be all right.” No. Though pep gave me a virtual hug just now. Bless her soul.

I fucking (fill in your own blank) Australians. Okay. Not going to elaborate on anything just in case DIAC (the Australian Immigration department) is monitoring this blog.

I fucking (fill in your own blank) Sydney. I went to a recruiter today. Very refreshing chap from London. Or so he claimed. He said “It’s funny hearing a Singaporean saying that Sydney / Australia is souless”. “I did not say that.” “Your expression said everything.” (silence and on to other topics like “Why don’t you go to  HK?”, etc).

Someone, tell me that things will be okay. I know that I’m not the easiest person to get along with. But try to feel sorry for me. And give me a hug. I’m a human being after all.

Something to look forward to for tomorrow – beer. Yay.


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