THE TYCOON told me that merely reaching potential does not define success. What comprises it is one's ability to overachieve, or go beyond what one usually can. In this case, I can say that my answers to the five essay questions in last night's screening were less than average, the article due yesterday afternoon was overwritten but badly expressed, and today's set of abstracts are turning out to be one of my bad ones. I do not believe I will succeed at being one of PDI's new correspondents. I also do not think Lucerne will hire me again as feature writer. and I expect to get an email from the London office tomorrow, telling me that my output for today was blah.

With all the writing opportunities that came over the weekend until today, I therefore conclude that I cannot handle pressure. The reason I am able to get out of it gracefully is because I do not try to accomplish them well, at all. In relation to my previous post, nothing I have done recently seems to meet the "do your best" criterion. Whenever I try to psyche myself up for a gig, I lose focus halfway and end up finishing the project just because it needs to be done.

It's tragic. Today, Asia Herald called me to ask if I can transcribe a 3-hour file for a fee. I said yes.

I think I drank too much brewed coffee. My mind is traveling like mad. It's 4pm and I've only finished four abstracts of 12. Usually, at this time, I'm done with 3/4 of the workload. I probably need a shrink to help me sort out my priorities. Or maybe what I need is an assistant to help me manage my deadlines and schedule. The big question is if I can afford either. Well, I don't. And if you think it's funny, it's not. I have no definite goals. No plans laid out.

And I'm rambling endlessly again. I can't focus. I want to go home and sleep. I want to pack up and disappear for a while. Somewhere along the way to my unmet deadlines, I lost my intelligence. I wish I had just gone on to law school and let my parents decide. I think I'm too childish to run my own life.

Back to work.