14 days to go

I haven't made much progress on interpreting these days. My note-taking is still rusting. Well,whatever. Last Friday was a shocker. I went to the basic medical terms workshop with the comfort of knowing that my assignments averaged 98% and they would account for 60% of the total score which means I would pass even if scoring 0 in my test. So you can imagine my shock when hearing that I had to pass the test in order to access the credit in assignments. (really common sense isn't it...) I was preparing the worst and thinking to myself "damn, I'll fail. Maybe I shouldn't even waste my time taking this test. Maybe I should just walk out!"This feeling of imminent failure was deepened by the happy blond gay who shared my table and had perfect French manicure that any woman may envy. He confided to our sisterhood that this was his third attempt and he'd exhausted all his chances... This sent me in despairs. But how could I give up after coming this far. Luckily, the teacher gave test tips in the workshop so I spent the entire lunch break between the end of the workshop and the start of the exam cramming! I even jotted down a word "salpingo-oophorectomy" -imagine what it means!- on my palm (attempted plagiarism, I rubbed it off later nonetheless). So, the test turned out to be a no-brainer.

That afternoon, I went to a city law firm whose a flamboyant anglo name exudes an illusion of high-classy Europeanism, but the firm whose Chinese owner (by coincidence or not) had an adopted anglo surname that sounded nothing in common with himself actually employs exclusively Chinese and I suspect serves the Chinese community only. The reception minded by a small Cantonese man was decorated with three walls of big Victorian paintings. There was also a wall-mounted Plasma TV playing incessantly media coverage of the firms high-profile cases. Alongside the namecards of their dozens of lawyers or consultants were stacks of Chinese newspaper clips, undoubtedly, articles on the same cases. I sat down and observed the unprofessional mannerism of the reception and above all the absurdity and surrealism of being trapped in the hustle and bustle of a mini Chinatown in the heart of the Buckingham Palace. The rest was a joke - a 40 minutes questionnaire which had the most invasive questions that wouldn't fail to offend any decent jobseeker and scare off the rest. It was quite smart of them that written in extra-large and bold font on the front cover was that " this questionnaire was not to be taken away". So I returned to the reception and put it quietly on the counter in front of the small Cantonese man who was committed to petty chatteries with a fellow Catonese woman. I didn't really expect to hear anything from him. But out of politeness, I thought I would not leave without saying a word. I smiled a warm smile and asked friendly and casually " so what's next." Appearing surprised that I should drag him out of his gossiping session, he said stonely (perhaps with a managed smiled) "just wait."

"Thank you." I turned away.

So that was last Friday. I overslept on Saturday and couldn't fight off a headache. Sunday and Monday were much better.

14 days to go. I'm still rattling.. Lol.