Like Going to Genting

Toss and turn, toss and turn, toss and turn.

No, we're not about to stir-fry mihun today.

Remember that feeling? You lay on your bed, eyes wide open, and it remains open for the next hour or so. What do you do? You start counting ceiling tiles (mine's 3.5 tiles horizontal, 3 tiles vertical - pretty small room I know). You lie on your back, you lie on your side, you lie on your stomach, nothing works. Frustrated, you sit up, squint to look at the glow-in-the-dark clock hands of your alarm (kinda old school eh), and find that only an hour has passed. Worse, you realise your back's damp from all that tossing and turning and have to go take a shower now.

Aduhai.

All because it's the weekend tomorrow and dad decides to take the family to Genting. Today, Genting doesn't sound like much of a place to be excited about. But back then, when you're 10-11 years, it was all the rage.

So finally, morning comes. You get in the car, not without the chore of having to plant every family member to their seat (mom always being the slowest), and just after a five-minute drive, you ask:

"Dad, are we there yet?"

***

I'm starting what would be the first day of my internship tomorrow. And to be honest, I am excited. I've been looking forward to it for a week now. I got so excited that I bought one of those overpriced blue legal paper and a tiny fits-in-your-pocket notebook (equally overpriced), though knowing there are probably stacks after stacks of paper around in the office.

I've always felt that work must be exciting, and yes, as exciting as going to Genting. I told a friend the other day, more than anything else in the world, my utmost desire at this point in life is to find a job that would make me toss and turn the night before, and when I do wake up, I can't wait to get to work.

Naive, I know. But I have every right to be - I am 21.

Of course, the excitement I'm feeling now has more to do with the mystery of how things are gonna be, not so much because I'm passionate about what I do yet.

Should a day come where I'm asked, "How's your job?", he/she probably wouldn't get it but I'd like to at least answer in my heart:

"It's like going to Genting."