A week ago I was sharing with some others how I was feeling like I had nothing to look forward to next year - this is not suicidal talk, but in the context of having a number of things in 2012 either being done and dusted (events, overseas trips / short term missions), or potential things (job changes) return void. I was feeling particularly disheartened about my ongoing attempts to change jobs. The very next day I began some dialogue with another department at work which was interested in picking me up off a "mobility register", for a temporary transfer into a role there. The official offer came through today, but my current area has now refused to release me, so I can't go.
I was starting to get excited, though keeping in mind the need to not count my chickens before they hatched. Hence the inspiration for this poem:
I had no chickens nor eggs to boot
Was given an egg, though now 'tis moot
For the eggshell got broken
Thus my countenance sunken
One again I'm left holding balut!
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