I also went to a Kings of Leon concert in Hyde Park. My first ‘real’ concert (my only other experience was with Pink Martini at the Round House) and an open-air one too! (Tick! for another thing on my Thngs-to-do-before-I-die list) I wasn’t really familiar with the songs so couldn’t really be swept up in the moment as much as other fans. Although I still tried to push myself as much to the front of the stage as possible, like a true groupie - and I managed to come as close as 5-6 rows from the stage at one point! Most of the time though, I was people-watching and being alternately amused and aghast by concert-humanity.

To top up an excellent day, my X-pole got delivered today! I had started pole-dancing classes (although I’m still Level 1, and an under-performing student at that!) and had bought a pole to do conditioning and practice the spins at home. I started pole to strengthen my arms for climbing, but it’s funny how it has taken on a life of its own!

Unfortunately, we both caught a cold over this past Bank holiday weekend, when we got caught in the rain in my (haphazardly, last-minute-planned) birthday weekend in the Costwolds for the Boy. After a mere week of sunshine, our reliably depressing and grim UK weather descended again, giving us dull drizzles and grey skies over the crucial long weekend.

I didn’t want to cancel the table, despite me feeling like hell, because I didn’t want him to remember his birthday as a day where we’re both glum, ill, depressed, and stuck in bed with a cold. So… I pulled a long night the night before to finish up my work, took a sick day and Beecham’s Night Nurse (which really knocks me out) and stayed in bed all morning.

We persevered and dragged our sorry, sniffly asses to Alain Ducasse, and were a pretty sad sight: blowing our noses on tissues in between courses, clearing my stuffed nose with Vick’s Inhaler, popping Beecham’s Day Nurse pills after our first course, and running off to the toilet to cough up my funky-coloured phlegm (eeww.. i know. only once though!). But it was pretty comedic at the same time. The waiting staff were all very sympathetic and felt quite sorry for the state we were in. And I’m sure we’re the only people who’ve ever eaten at Alain Ducasse while being so ill!

It was almost a bit of a shame to waste the food. I was rather afraid that my cold would inhibit my tastebuds or kill my appetite and I wouldn’t appreciate the food. But I still did! To be fair, I would have enjoyed it more had I been in the pink of health (as it was, I felt so weak after my first course that I was wondering if i would have the strength to finish our tasting menu). But it was all worth it: for the comedy factor, and for making it a special day for the Boy (it would probably an unforgettable birthday too, given the comedy factor - so it’s probably just as well! ;)).

I’m just hoping I’ll be hale and hearty on my birthday - one tragi-comic birthday a year is enough!

Even at the Firm, things are looking up. After a long winter of privation (redundancies and a spate of voluntary departures, tombstone cutbacks. no Christmas and Summer Party last year, patchy bonuses), we finally have a small budget for team events, are going to have a Summer Party. I know it seems silly to outsiders hung up about bankers’ bonuses and the like. But these small things count and are good for morale - everyone, especially the secretaries, who missed out on bonus, will at least have a fun night of free booze, which will help a tiny towards alleviating the sting of lost bonuses and getting wrongly caught-up in the mass hysteria of banker-bashing. I have been disappointed with my recent unsuccessful attempt to find a new job, but this new development has (somewhat irrationally) cheered me up and mitigated my condition. It just somehow feels like the Firm is finally getting more confident and getting back on its feet, after a year of losses and sacrifice.

And I’m going to submit my naturalisation application on Monday. I’ve gotten my first of two referee to vouch for my “good character”, and soon, fingers crossed, I’ll be a fish-and-chip -scarfing, beer-guzzling Brit! After almost 10 years of living in my adopted city and country, almost 6 years of working, over-paying taxes and under-consuming services, and 1.5 years of enduring vitriolic abuse at my industry, my commitment is going to be recognised.

Other little things are cheering me up too: holidays I’ve just taken (Turkey, Syria and Lebanon), our wooden flooring has been installed and furniture-shopping is underway, spending time with girl friends doing fun things (indoor rock climbing, climbing Snowdonia), upcoming plans (Trinity May Ball, a photography course), more holidays planned (Canada/Malaysia/Singapore, Australia). After a long quiet winter of inertia and desperate anxiety (company, finances, work, quitting work), it seems like little green shoots of fun and activities are sprouting, and the invisible weight on my shoulders has been lightened with the longer days and warmer weather.

I hope this lasts.

I thought to myself: I can’t deal with this. I want to slit my wrists. Or at least poke needles into the tips of fingers.

But that’s not realistic. I am afraid of pain and blood after all.

Hmmm… maybe I should get anti-depressants, I thought. A couple of pills here and there. And I could get through the day, without feeling suicidal. With a smile even.

That really scared me. The fact that I was being so realistic and reasonable - the fact that I was measuring my problem and mentally taking a calculated step to solve it: “I have a problem, and this is a feasible and socially acceptable to way to mitigate my pain.”

Imagine, *taking pills* to get through the work day. To live life and just breathe.

That the first step down the slippery slope of giving up. The dangerous first step of self-medicating to cope with life.

What next - drugs?!

However, now I have discovered a lovely online notepad from Helicoid – the Helipad!, and am working on this entry from work – whoo hoo! (albeit with a nasty headache)

So, 2009…

In terms of my 2009 resolutions, I have gloriously failed to achieve any of them.

Nonetheless, I have achieved (or accidentally stumbled across) some key milestones in life:
1) shagged (finally)
2) bought a little piece of England with the Boy

Part of me feels frustrated/ disappointed that I’ve done so few “wow” things or progressed so few of my “things to do before I die” compared to previous years – it seems, as years go by, that my life gets more boring, more static, and I do fewer exciting things – a result of becoming more conventional, fitting more into the norms, being weighed down by responsibilities. My only consolation, at least for 2009, is that, although I have done fewer exciting things, the things that I have done, are really big milestones in the context of one’s life (although not as big as having a baby!)

Other highlights of the year include:
- adopting Newton and Byron, my two lovely but at times extremely exasperating feline furballs
- visiting Madagascar! – finally doing some proper travelling in Africa, albeit Africa-for-beginners, and progressing my goal of “visiting every country in the world before I die” (for that matter, we can add Japan to the list of countries visited)
- eating A LOT of very good food – although I didn’t hit 100 Michelin stars, I’ve done a good three-quarters or more of that number

In summary, I would say 2009 was a mixed bag. Low on number of goals achieved, high on life milestones achieved. Let’s hope 2010 will be a more productive year.

x

Although, having said that my team is yellow-friendly, in reality, my team is just extremely diverse and almost incidentally supportive of all sorts of “minorities”. We have an exceptionally high proportion of girls in our team vs. investment banking average; we are racially diverse (although we were even more so in the past); and there are many mixed couples in our team:
- danish/french + greek/irish
- french + british indian (and married against the wish of her parents who boycotted the wedding!!)
- german/iranian + english
- english + french
- chinese + german
- myself + french
- italian + canadian chinese
- french moroccan + chinese

That’s one thing I like about London - this exuberant mixing of cultures, nationalities and races. The openness and willingness to share, interact, intermarry, love, hate and mingle in joyous abandon. Those who come here tend to be sufficiently adventurous and open. London, as I mentioned before, is a port for dreamers, a gateway of dreams. - Well, at least it was before this silly super tax that is rapidly making us all reconsider our future plans.

Nonetheless, I sometimes almost wonder if there is too much mixing… isn’t it a shame that there will be no one who is culturally “pure” anymore. There’s something to be said for being able to say, unequivocally: “I am Chinese [or whatever]“, without feeling confused and conflicted, as many mixed-culture kids are, especially since life is confusing enough as it is. But, funnily enough, growing up, I remember thinking, even as a child, how boring it was that I was “pure Chinese”, that there was nothing much more to say besides both my grandparents were from China - no mixed parentage or deeper heritage to understand or explain. I guess that this was written, that I would end up going out with someone from a different culture, because I’ve always wanted to do and be, something a little bit different (although, as mentioned, inter-cultural relationships now seem to be the norm), and because I always thought that inter-culture relationships and marriages would contribute towards ending racism/prejudices/religious differences, and hence, a baby first step towards world peace. Yes, very “Miss Congeniality”, I know. But wanting some simple and naive, isn’t always a bad thing. In my book, it is called idealism or optimism.

This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It finally jolted me into making a decision to leave, to actively start looking for a job. I contacted some head hunters that MM recommended, and the Boy sent out emails on my behalf. So now I’m reworking my CV, drafting answers to potential headhunter/ interviewer questions, printing out reams of research pieces to read up on the various sectors and subsectors that are relevant, reading news and articles about VCs, New Media, cloud computing and general tech stuff. My first choice is VC, second choice is PE and anywhere else. So I have to be different things to different people, a lot of bases to cover. It keeps me busy and occupied, while there is a very short lull in my work, which is great for me. To hedge my bets, I have also signed up for the CFA I exam in June, with an eye on doing asset management post Africa, if my search for a job in VC/ PE before July next year fails. I was also looking into signing up for a French DELF B1 exam as well next year.

The Boy commented: Wow, it’s crazy how much crap you start doing/ looking into when you’re bored!

That’s kind of true.

But I’ve also channelled some of my energies into the Company. Researched into the merits of serif vs. sans serif fonts. Started drafting a very brief engagement letter for our website developer. Looked into the application process for trademarks - UK, EU, US, and the Madrid Agreement/Protocol - it’s crazy how long it takes! We need to start the process soon. - I’ve always been the one in the couple who is more focussed on legalese and contractual protections/ obligations. The Boy always as his head buried in the nuts and bolts of the Company, the engine mechanics, which is all as well. But someone has to be paranoid about everything else. And that role fits me quite well, given my general paranoia and desire to be prepared for every eventuality. Next steps on the Company front will be “Terms & Conditions” and “Privacy Statements” and the like. Not very exciting I know, but the product completion date is approaching, hopefully, and we can launch the Alpha testing phase soon! The Company helps keep my spirits up and provides a dim ray of light while I’m stuck in the ink-blank tunnel of my job.

I’m pushing ahead on all fronts, and hopefully I will get somewhere.

Mole-hills become mountains. And when weighing the cost/ benefits between: bearing it, or not? Doubt often tips the balance into: “Aahh f*ck it”

I just don’t want to deal with it. All the low level, low intensity stress of watching what I do in my own space, during my down-time. The background droning of complaints and resentment. The seemingly inconsequential compromises of daily domestic routine.

Cases in point:
1) I was hyper stressed out during my birthday weekend because my VP expected me to work all weekend for “the most important Board presentation of the year” (for that specific client). The specific transaction never happened. Was killed. And instead, a TopCo deal was in the works by other banks which would have cut us out completely, and killed our deal. As it happens, the TopCo deal didn’t happen either. So some other poor f*cks in some other banks have probably busted their balls for nothing too.

2) The Boy and I were supposed to leave on Saturday afternoon to collect Byron from out of town. But because I had to help finalise “the most important presentation of the process”, we had to leave town late, drive at 110 mph or more to rush to town. Stop in the emergency lane of the highway to take a call from my boss. Gobble down an 8-course 1-Michelin star meal (that we’d already paid for) at a rate of one-course-every-five-minutes. And rush back the next day. The result: the client did not want to fund the transaction at the necessary price - they choked at the equity cheque. A bid was never made.

3) “The biggest IPO of next year” pitch - having to work weekends, take multi-hour calls on weekends which, among other things, consist of my MD reiterating everything on his markup, and changing his mind, vacillating over every other point, since at least 4 weekends before the deadline. Firstly, this is not my project. Another girl, who is from the company’s country of origin, is working on a side project and has been swamped, so I am stepping in. This is ultimately her project and will revert to her if we win. Secondly, there are multiple decision-makers in the awarding of this mandate. And my colleague who knows some of the decision-making parties has been told that this segment of decision-makers will back another set of banks to win. Given I have been and will continue working exclusively on this until the deadline, why is it imperative that we spend time on this every weekend?

My frustration has been growing. I’m tired of not being able to properly plan a simple weekend, always living with the constant stress and worry that my plans will have to be cancelled, or that I have to rush back to work at any point. This frustration has reached such a boiling point that I just don’t want to work. I get depressed whenever I am given *any* work. I feel like knocking my head against the wall at yet another piece of analysis, yet another model to build, yet another presentation to prepare. The same shit, ad nauseum, ad infinitum. I know this is clearly not a healthy work attitude to have, and that’s why I know that really, this is time to say “enough is enough”. It is time to quit, and move on. I am gritting my teeth and barely holding on for dear life: until my bonus (whatever it may be), until my naturalisation.

5 years in one place, one team, is surely an age. Especially in banking. By the time I leave next year, I will have done almost 6 years. I have nothing to prove anymore - to myself, to anyone. If I want, I know I can go on to make VP, D, possibly/probably MD. But do I want to spend the next 7 years being stressed and depressed, living a living hell, carving up my ever-diminishing soul into little pieces and selling them, piece by piece? I have done my time. I need out. I also need the strength to carry on, for just another 9 months or so, if all goes well.

Maybe after having been unemployed for a while, I will be happy to return to the hellish, but fairly lucrative hell-hole that banking is. I know I have been very fortunate to have been in constant employment since my bank-breaking graduation. And maybe, to an extent, I have taken it for granted. But almost everyone I know has had either gardening leave from changing jobs, or being unemployed, or a sabbatical from a firm-sanctioned working-hour-reduction programme, or has taken a break to do an MBA, finish a thesis, further their studies. I am just plain and simple burnt out. My sanity is slowly fraying.

9 more months. 9 more months… I am, I am, I am.

On coming home, I found that my kittens (I suspect Byron, the younger kitten) had totally acted up and pooped and pee-ed in the wrong place, in their little “home compound” that we created for them, instead of the litter tray. So I ended up clearing the mess, washing and disinfecting their trays, bathing them. It is at times like this that I wonder if the whole kitten-adopting was just a tragic mistake. I don’t really mind doing housework in small doses, but I would hate to have a problem cat that is not toilet trained and that requires me (more, the Boy, since he is at home most of the time) to run after him. But I suppose having the kittens is not entirely without benefits. Among other things, I think it’s really good as a trial of our capacities to accept a dependent newcomer into our lives (read: kids). And the answer that I am getting right now, loud and clear, is: NO.

But I will expound more about my thoughts on kittens/kids some other time when I’m not tired and stressed about going into work the next day (yes, on a Sunday - bring back my recession please!)