With the gradual shining of the sun, a quarter before six o' clock in the morning, along with the cry of the rooster who had to enjoy itself sleeping at a bough of a tree whose moistened leaves of green covered the wondrous earthly creations from the windowpanes of the second storey of this apartment, I stood up from a deep slumber. I took my gray jacket which was hung just right above my head and threw it in.
It was a cold morning, just like the usual mornings ever since the first morning I woke up here in this far-flung area. I can not describe how cold it is here. All I know is that I need to wear a jacket all the time, whether at home or at work.
Tall trees hover the mountains, green plants flourish the hillsides, and rivers flow slowly at shallow depth. The locals are nice and friendly. The workplace, however, can be distinguished into two. First, the geology office here is nice and cool. I have got a computer to use whenever I want to. Secondly, the underground tunnel of which I fear the most, is dark, hot and low in oxygen. Just like a man who is buried six feet from the ground.
Of course, I look cool with all the helmet, boots, head flashlights and all the miner's gears on. At first, I did not enjoy the all day walking inside that tunnel. With the eerie silence, and the rats around, I have become immune to the words ýuck and ewww.
This is the real life. This is the real work. I don't encounter immature brats. This is an office. I am taught with new things, and at the same time given the chance to teach my fellow learners. I don't encounter selfish beings. People here are audacious but possess great intellect. I work professionally with others. I respect them, and at the same time, I gain some in return.
I was right all along. My personality is well-suited to a professional environment. I was meant for bigger things. I am hoping that when the school year commences, people there in the publication office are changed beings, not a bunch of clowns.
