YES!!! All 3 audit cases have been completed!
Balance sheet and cash-flow statement: BALANCED
Reviews from the boss: CLEARED
Draft for typing: CHECKED
Of course, statements are signed and declared true and fair.
One hectic, drowsy month has passed and I can finally strike a line across the names of Ebolar, Epodemic and AMA on my jobsheet.(names are altered for fear of getting my ass sued)
When I look back on those sleepy,saikang days,digging thru those stacks of dusty papers and getting nagged by my manager for being slow, I was a real audit fetus. Everything is much easier now especially after all the collation jobs my manager’s been piling on me. The phobia of cash-flow statements has been overcome and journal adjustments don’t make me want to pee in my pants anymore.
Next case: Cry Stare Videos.
Now for the unhappier bit this week.
My dad made me cry and made me very pissed while he was driving me to the MRT station.
It all began with my brother who was at risk of expulsion from his Poly because of his atrocious grades for certain modules and low class attendance. My dad started complaining to me about it and told me as a sister I should go nag him. I got pissed.
So I replied that it isn’t my responsibility to do the nagging since my brother is old enough to make his own choices whether good or bad and nagging him would only waste my precious saliva since he won’t listen to it anyway.
Then dad said it would be a waste of money if my brother doesn’t complete his studies. Ooh. Now I got very pissed.
I always wanted to go overseas for my studies ever since I was in primary school. It is not just the novelty of learning a different way, learning new things and living in a different environment but it is a litmus test on whether I can live on my own and interact with a diverse group of people(oh and communicate without singlish,lah).
He knows it. He bloody knew what I wanted and have been working hard for for 10 years of my life.
He promised me he will send me overseas once I finished junior college when I was dying to get into Trinity college in Melbourne. That didn’t happen.
And when I wanted to try Melbourne University after my A levels, the panic attack shit left me with no choice but to stay here.
And now that I’m at my last term of study in Singapore Management University, he grumbled that he is stuck with a kid who doesn’t want to study and one who wants to study too much.
Now I’m ultra f**king pissed.
So I said I’ve always wanted to study art so that I can exploit that latent skill. And here comes the bombshell…
Dad: What do you think you can do with art, huh? Do you even have the capacity? Tell me how much money can it earn you? How much money will it earn you?
Me: I want to do it because I don’t want to die with regrets.
Dad: Look at my auditor’s daughter! She graduated from University of Malaysia and now she’s working in a bank! Huh! Stop chasing all this dreams la. You don’t worry, I will continue to take care of you until I die.
Me: *sullen silence*
Tears just burst out of my eyes like a swollen pipe. My lower lip was trembling when I stifled the sobs and turned my head away from my dad to hide the streaming tears. I wasn’t embarassed to show the outside world I’m crying but I don’t want my dad to see my face.
Or maybe I don’t want to look at his face.
If he wanted a banker for a daughter, he should have a go at making a baby sister for me.
This is pure psychological trauma because it goes against my ill-formed identity. Who do I want to be and who does others want me to be? I think this is a question we should ask ourselves so if such matters arise with regards to clashing expectations, at least one is able to rationalize the incongruency of identities. Schizophrenic outbursts are unglam and not welcome.
Now I know there is nothing awaiting after graduation. Only work.
I’m so disappointed. And I feel I’ve been made a fool since the day I graduated from Secondary school. My dad is old so how long can he support me? Another lie to fool kids.
I guess the only person who can protect this goal is myself. I shouldn’t have relied on my dad nor anyone to carry this goal. It’s like handing your baby over to a stranger to carry or drop. Instead of falling to pieces, I suddenly have this strong motivation to work really hard for the money and to live by myself.
I’m the sort of person who would burn not just the bridge but the blueprints to building one. The desire to cut the apron strings completely is so strong, I envision myself sometimes leaving the country one day without leaving any indication of where I would be so no one will come after me.
Yes, I’m still f**king sore over this matter. Really damn pissed because when I am typing this entry, my chest is clenched with wholesome injurious anger.