Image by me...
Dear Diary,
I missed a day again, but for good reason. Yesterday, the hours stretched long, with each moment a careful negotiation between duty and desire. I had woken up yesterday with the promise of a new dawn, but by the time the evening finally rolled around, it felt as if the day had run a hundred marathons. I couldn't manage to write anymore, because the relentless pace of work had swallowed every precious minute. And to top it all of, tomorrow, the physical training classes of the FundQuest Academy begins, with the number of registrants currently at the highest it has ever been...
But then tomorrow is yet to come, so let's talk about today...
Today was another one of those long, winding days that leaves me both exhausted and quietly hopeful — a day marked by the pulse of debates and the soft stirrings of change.. positive change. Our monthly management meeting held today, an event that always carries with it a mix of routine and fear; routine in the consistency of reports and presentation style, and fear in the knowledge of your budget performance before you are asked to step up to the podium.
But today, the meeting itself went well for the most part; it is the start of the year after all, so any weak budget performances were allowed to slide, albeit with a gentle yet pointed remark. Remarks that were enough to let me know that it won't be the same treatment next month. I am sure it was enough to convey the same knowledge to my colleagues as well...
During the A.O.B.'s, amidst the steady hum of opinions and expectations, I took a moment to speak up about an issue that had been simmering in my mind for some time - our dress code. While I fully understand and appreciate the need for formal or business casual attires during the workweek, the artist within me craved some sort of exception for days like today.. Fridays.. Days when if the policy would be flexible enough, the artistry in some of my colleagues may be allowed to shine through.. days when the week is winding down, and outfits could take up a life of their own, spinning with poetry and colour as my colleagues do their routine dance, waltzing on the corridors with files and memos, coffee and food.. and hopefully, colours...
Unfortunately though, my proposition did not receive an immediate or definitive response. Instead, a committee was established to look into the policy review. A bummer, at least for me. Yes, I must admit, that I despise committees. Too often, they seem to move with the sluggish pace of bureaucracy, stalling rather than sparking the creative changes that are sorely needed.
Let the art of dress, break free from rigid lore,
Let every soul, be given a canvas to explore..
Let the working man, let him follow his heart,
Let him wear his own colours, let him show you his art...
After the meeting ended, and as the day drew on, I found myself embracing another significant turning point. Amidst the whirlwind of decisions and discussions, I eventually resolved to register for the ICAN certification this year. This is a choice I have considered carefully, I think, knowing that while the CFA carries a certain prestige, its lofty cost remains out of reach for me, for now. The ICAN, on the other hand, fits comfortably within my budget and holds the promise of opening doors to new opportunities — a pragmatic step towards growth when the ideal remains elusive. Like they say, when the desirable remains out of reach, the affordable must transform into something equally compelling, if not more so. Perhaps this is a compromise... or perhaps it is just an investment in incremental progress over unattainable perfection...
All in, today was a tapestry of thoughtful challenges. A day where the balance between policy and personal expression, between lofty dreams and grounded realities, was on full display. And as I end the day with you reader, I end the day with a sense of quiet satisfaction, knowing that even in the midst of routine and limitations, I am somehow carving out a path that resonates with me. I may be just one voice in a chorus of many, but I am learning that even the softest notes can influence the melody of change...
The pendulum swings, but the axis remains,
A man, his shadows, his silent refrains..
We orbit the almost, the not yet, the soon,
While life, in its mercy, hums the same tune...
#SladenSpeaks
#IfWordsWereNudes
It just occurred to me, with classes, I may not be able to see my son tomorrow.
But until tomorrow is over, I wouldn't rule it out...
Goodnight dear diary...