What this photograph tells me is that sometimes you need to look at things from a different angle… Because I walk past this building pretty much daily. It’s got a very unimpressive, unmemorable façade at street level. It’s an office block with a café next to the entrance and reception – cafés are seemingly ubiquitous in office towers these days – neither building nor café seems special. I always think how glad I am not to work in it. Mind you, there’s probably nothing wrong at all with this building – I simply prefer the one I work in.

It looks good from this angle, though… And now I wonder, surely there must be pretty good views from the higher floors…

That’s me, always in search of a view.




The less I speak, the less I want to say. The less I want to hear of others. This week has been trying for the noise. I can only listen to my colleagues wittering on about recipes/what they had for dinner, what they’re wearing and reality TV (in no particular order) for so long.


This Head I Hold by Electric Guest


ASX building

I ended up finishing Friday and the week late at the office, as expected, but for something else entirely unexpected. At just after 7pm, a colleague and I were hoofing it back to the office from the print shop (because both ‘big’ printers at the office had chosen to break down a couple of hours earlier) when a fire truck sped past, squealing and flashing. “I hope that’s not for our building!” my colleague said.

It was for our building. There we were with our box of emergency printing, now stuck downstairs because the lifts were now inoperative while the fire crew attended to whatever the emergency was – not that one could tell, because there was no smoke, nor fire, nor a cat stuck up a tree or dangling out the window.

Thankfully it wasn’t for too long, but these things – entirely out of one’s control – add time to already lengthy days (and the printing was a minor non-issue, actually), and there’s nothing else to be done but smile and look on the bright side, cancel dinner plans, make apologies to others, and make promises to oneself to have a good weekend…

…Until someone arrives at your desk and says that thing for which you thought you’d be devoting your Friday night but which was hijacked by equipment failure is still needed before Monday. Here we go, here we don’t. Saturday, maybe next time.


This is not a complaint, by the way. I’m just saying how it is. I’m not fishing for sympathy. I’ve actually decided those who don’t work in the industry find it difficult to fathom Why. Even my bestie doesn’t get it (he’s constantly sending me texts: “You need a new job!” No I don’t. He’s looking for a new job and perhaps projecting his issue on to me. So I just press DELETE. Sorry, Bestie!) I realised recently, chatting to someone who asked about my work hours that my typical work day is a long day to most people. Actually, I’ve known that for a while. ‘9 to 5’ is a movie (and a song), not [my] reality. And I’m OK with that.


bw buildingIt hasn’t been a tempest of a week… besides the 8pm finish on Monday, things have actually been pretty Regular. Nothing out of the ordinary, no over-and-above the call of duty stuff.

But, I haven’t really been here. My brain, I mean, I think it was last seen Sunday night, headed West.

At the office, I’m feigning interest. Can I even be bothered to pretend today?



I’m back to work on Monday, but I spent a few hours at the office today.

Finally tackled the monster inbox: filed almost 650 emails down to 78. Sorted through, discarded, stacks of paper which I’d been accumulating because I don’t like throwing out paper/stuff that I’ve worked on/versions of documents – just in case I need them. It’s terrible, I know. I need to get out of that habit.

After I was done, I could actually see C L E A R  S P A C E on my desk. Hadn’t had that for a while.

Uncluttered: it’s such a great feeling.


Post-script: Just came across this article. Scroll to the last question/answer. “You can delete anything 21 days and older, and it won’t matter.” I wish that were true. Well, it definitely doesn’t work for me, I’m constantly having to refer to old emails, interrogate the ‘history’ or background, in my job. Hence the filing.


keep outSometimes I just wish I could put up a ‘KEEP OUT’ sign on myself. People can be so curious just for the hell of being curious, when it’s none of their business, and all they want to do is fish for information that they can then parlay into frivolous chatter at their next Friday evening work drinks session. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt this year, it’s that people gossip far too easily. I would much rather hear about you when I’m talking to you, not about someone else. It reminds me of a saying I heard once along the lines of humans are divided into three types: those who talk about others, those who talk about events, and those who talk about ideas. There’s far too much of the people talking about others in certain circles at my office and it makes me a bit nauseous, frankly.

It was the work Christmas party last night. I’m glad that’s over and done with.


I almost didn’t post this for two reasons: one, it’s embarrassingly trivial (even more so than all my other trivial posts) and two, the photo almost gave away a bit more information than I would like. But I found a way around it with some editing and the help of a handful of stars.

Anyway, see that glass bottle in the pic? I kept the bottle long after drinking the contents – good ole H2O – because I liked its stout, simple shape, and the fonts used. (Yes, I will admit to being a typography geek now, and happily point you in the direction of the bottle in its full glory here.) And when I say “long after”, I mean that a colleague gave it to me some time in 2005. I’ve carted that bottle from one workplace to another and back again, refilling it each morning, sometimes twice each day. Last year, when I returned to my current workplace after three-and-a-half years somewhere else, my colleague saw the bottle and we had a laugh about the old days. He and I had started working at the firm around the same time, the office was much smaller then, and we spent many evenings chatting about various things that we found amusing about our colleagues (now we just find them annoying – or maybe it’s just me who finds them annoying?)

Yesterday morning when I arrived at the office, the bottle was gone. The cleaner must’ve thought it was just an ’empty’ and chucked it out. And the annoying thing about it was that she’d left behind a plate with some crumbs on it – but my bottle! How could she have taken my bottle?!?

You’re probably thinking I’ve lost my marbles to be vexing over a silly bottle, so I’d better explain myself quick-smart. Earlier this week, I found out that the colleague who had given me the bottle is being managed out. I just happened to notice that he was in a meeting with two partners on Monday, and it didn’t look like ‘just a catch-up’ type meeting. Call me cynical, but I always assume the worst when I see anyone in a partner’s office. I had a sinking feeling which wasn’t helped the next day when I asked how he was, and he deflected the question with a comment about something else altogether. The next day, my boss told me ‘in confidence’ what I already knew. (He seemed surprised that I’d figured it out, but honestly, anyone with two brain cells would’ve assumed the same. Management can be very naive sometimes, in my humble opinion!)

So, now you see… I’m upset about my colleague and I can’t even tell him I know his news and how sorry I am about it all, so I’m fixating on the bottle he gave me all those years ago. I know I could just go out and buy another one, but it’s not the same.

My desk was simply not the same yesterday, and soon the office won’t be the same either when my colleague goes.