So you're the expert, huh?

Has anyone ever called you an expert? A specialist? Well I have, just this afternoon. Apparently, I'm an expert in "business development".

I can't believe it either.

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I guess you've noticed, I haven't been posting much. It's a bit difficult when you get into the office at 8 in the morning and clock out a little past 8 in the evening. Then when I get home, I open my laptop and work some more. It's exhausting, and I've been sporting raccoon eyes for the past month. This is what I've traded my old life for.

And so far, I'm loving it.

I can't seem to put my finger on it, but there's a great thrill getting home knowing that you've just worked your ass off and you're gonna be back at it again tomorrow. And shamefully, I've reached a point that I'm so darn efficient at it that people have been piling more work on me and going out on holiday. So much for the guy who needed 8 1/2 years to finish a 4-year course in college, and the king of the third floor who came to the office at 10 and left at 4.

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Wait, let's go back to the original statement, that I'm some sort of expert. In my opinion, either they're lying or they don't know me at all.

You see, all this effort I'm doing isn't really worth shit if I don't produce results. So far, all the projects that I've been taking on are in their incubation stage and the company has been taking a loss (ie my salary) waiting for them to bear fruit. Until the time when I have actually gotten one of these babies up and running and earning a decent profit for the company, then there is no achievement to speak of.

Unlike you regular joes, those on the factory floor or behind a desk, the job is pretty unforgiving. It's either I succeed or I don't, there are no points for trying and no excuses either. If it rains cats and dogs or a great big shark suddenly drops down from the sky and lands squarely on my head, the question would still be "Have you turned a profit, yet?".

Which actually makes the job all the more exciting. It's always a race to keep the company profitable and relevant. No laurels to rest on, no month-end to party after and no time for grief when a project is struck dead. When you get something up and running, it's time to move on to the next one. When the project implodes in your face, no choice but to keep working on the back-up plan.

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Of course, there is concern down the line. Won't I be depriving myself of a life? Will this career I've chosen turn me into a machine? Can my body keep up with itself and all the stress I'm gaining day in and day out?

Yesterday, there was a buzz at the office. Someone from the back-office died from an apparent cardiac arrest at the age of 27. I was told she was an indefatigable stalwart of the HR Department, and from what little contact I've made with her, she was a busy little bee indeed. The question "Will that happen to me?" rang a tiny little bell in my tiny little brain. I never got a chance to answer, my phone rang and in a second I was confirming a meeting for that morning.

Then there's my boss, holding top position in two separate companies with operations spanning 15 countries. I get an email from her at 12 midnight, and another one at 6:00 o'clock in the morning. One morning, as I was getting myself prepped up for a meeting with her, her assistant called me postponing our meeting to tomorrow. Apparently, she fainted from a vitamin deficiency or something. Also apparently, this was a regular occurrence that everyone in the office is sort of used to. The next day, I was having coffee with her at the office while going over line items in a research proposal I was doing.

Am I doomed?

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In my eccentric and over-simplified world, there are two types of people: those who take time off to stop and smell the flowers, and those who pull harder against the yoke so the flower-smellers get a chance to do so. I sort of transitioned from the former to the latter and so far, I'm finding the latter to be a better place at the moment. Mainly, the motivation I'm discovering is self-worth, that in the greater scheme of things I'm actually earning my keep. It's something I haven't felt in a long while, something that gives me an iota of entitlement.

And this entitlement that I'm feeling is really grand, even with the realization that I haven't made anything work yet. Some days ago, while listening to a friend of mine whine and bitch about his life over a number of bottles of beer, I can't help wearing a smug smile on my face, it was like looking at a mirror that reflected myself a number of years ago. I still have problems of course, still poor and alone. But now it's all a game, a puzzle to be solved and a chance to think out of the box.

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If there's one thing I'm sad about, though, it's that I haven't the chance to write as often as I want. Obviously, I'm having trouble keeping a singular train of thought, explaining all this gibberish that you're reading (in case you made it all the way here). I love writing, and there's always this dream of mine to write a good enough short story or novel even. I don't even have to be published, just knowing that I have written something is good enough for me. But unless I give some time to it, writing stuff on a more regular basis and improving a tad bit on stuff like grammar and spelling and vocabulary and sense, I don't think I'd have enough goods even for a haiku.

Don't worry, I'll keep trying (more torture for you folks) and spewing out nonsense in the meantime. Which reminds me I've got a report due tomorrow and a follow-up on a project on clean coal. How that reminded me? I dunno, really. A lot of stuff up in my head that I can't really explain the workings of.