Coming to you live from Singapore! Well, from your friendly neighborhood Starbucks on Orchard Road, to be exact.
I'm in Lion City for official business, and by 'official business' I mean applying for a non-immigrant Thai visa and picking up our company mail from our Singapore virtual office. Yes, just another day in the life of a benevolent corporate slave that is me. I'm here for 3 days, currently on the second day. I just came from the Thai Embassy to submit my visa application and now parked in Starbucks to get some work done.
I can do all that calmly now because the last few days have been rough (and believe me rough is an understatement). It's safe to say that in the last few days, I may have reached this year's quota for anxiety attacks. Why, you ask? Because this girl loves (LOVE, I tell you) to worry. It doesn't help that she is gullible and extremely paranoid. What about, you ask? Oh you know, anything and everything possible to worry about - whether or not I have the complete documents needed for the visa I'm applying for (despite the countless reassurance from the people that prepared it that I HAVE EVERYTHING), being hassled by immigration officers (because most of them don't smile and they scare the shit out of me), getting in trouble for chewing gum or worse, getting into a situation similar to the stories featured in Banged Up Abroad. So you see, there's much to worry about and I just love to dive in to the million what-if situations that most probably won't even happen.
Boy, do I love to torture myself or what? It's so... fun! Fun to think about all the possible ways the universe can take a piss on lil' ol' me. Fun to worry to the point of having numbing tension headaches. Fun to worry to the point of turning into a helpless ball of nerves. Ah... good times, good times.
Seriously, though. This habit of mine of worrying for nothing is sick. It makes me sick. Why oh why do I have to have worrying in my genes? Why, in all of my father's prudent traits, do I have to inherit worrying?
I think I may have mentioned before that I am trying to break away from this. Obviously, I'm struggling here. But I sure hope I do because the next time I get into an uncontrollable worry-fit, it will be the death of me.
Anyway, off to get mail. See you back in Kok, bitchez.
