I despise mathematical analysis to hell and back, and so I look back at times to where I feel like I truly belong, where solace truly lies, a thing called... art. Reading and writing under the influence of caffeine and a little of my self-proclaimed pixie dust, so-called inspiration, no calculators... no deceitful math models, things I truly miss.

In the middle of getting fed up doing quantitative management analysis, I spoil myself with movies and snacks (as I do not have the time to finish novels anymore since it eats so much of my time and yet it's nowhere in line with my profession-to-be, which is sad, to be honest). I am so glad to have a best friend whose passion lies on the same ground, plus she lets me borrow her DVDs. Black Swan was one of the most disturbing movies I have ever seen. Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis' sex scenes? Incomparable. Restricted to the 'hot' meter. It was something you would watch with your mom but find the need to explain to her 'Mom, it's art', like Liz did. The movie was driven by emotions althroughout. Love, lust, lunacy borne by peculiar perfectionism. It's strange how some people's lives revolve around their profession. Like it's food to their lives and there's no other way to live. Nina's life revolved around ballet and it killed her. I have come to realize I should loosen up on being a perfectionist. I might lose my wits just as well.

I digress. There's this true-to-life story I'd like to share.