I think I've been overboard with my late nights and supper and chill out and all things nice - been missing out on news, updates and the appropriate routines. I gotta put things back in the correct perspective before winding back to long sleep catch-ups.
And this is after - from two weeks before the new year - preps on top of preps and spring cleaning, the IPPT preps and the test itself, the visits, the running around and topping-ups on necessities (as they were needed), then the whole dinner thing, right up till tonight, my first good supper and my body hurts like mad... I'm beat.
This shower will be nice... and poof.
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And pring~!
Was just thinking about some of the best things in life and I kinda came up with 2:
1. Sambal: make an interesting chilli mix and you'd probably have the winning formula for a successful meal or restaurant business - add it to stingray, you get sambal stingray; add it to sotong, you get sambal sotong; add it to kangkong, you get sambal kangkong - it's basically sambal-anything-you-want! Isn't that amazing? There's at least 10 different ways of cooking with sambal that I can remember off-hand and that I've tried, and I suspect there would be a few times more. One single flavor that works for all. Outstanding.
2. Fart: intentional or not, done appropriately in a crowd will always draw laughter, regardless of person, place or time. Fart in a conversation, the inert desire to laugh would be suppressed, yet released later; fart in a lift (and if it stinks real bad) would draw some giggles and gaffles before the explosion; fart as you stroll down the street - woohoo~ and that's the winner - instant joke-of-the-year. Isn't this amazing too? A simple action that would almost without fail create an embarrassment instantaneously as well as tickle the funny bones. One act that works for all occassions. Excellent.
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I haven't been writing lately, even though the timeline set to reach my quota is drawing near. But I guess it's just one of those things that really eats into the soul and starts a horrendous reverse reaction of convulsion - compulsive reflective disorder.
And to make things slower, I've got a new keyboard (courtesy of Angel and granted by my birth) that I'm dying to use, but can't due to the pressure to do something on it. It's like, I stare at it everyday and the keys just scream, "PLAY WITH ME!"
If only I have a sex slave that says the same.
Anyhow, I think writing to me is still very much a sacred activity: I won't write anything useful if asked to; I won't write anything beautiful if tasked to. The only time I write is when I hate to write it most. Maybe that's just me, but squeeze me for a sheet is as good as squeezing milk outta um... a volleyball? <-- woah where did that come from? >
Well I'm beat. So I think I'm gonna beat it. Before mom comes in and beat the crap outta me for not sleeping when I'm beat. And then nobody sleeps much and feels beat. Again.
Now I'm beating it, so that I won't be beat or get beaten. Yeah. What am I saying? Beats me.
I think I've been overboard with my late nights and supper and chill out and all things nice - been missing out on news, updates and the appropriate routines. I gotta put things back in the correct perspective before winding back to long sleep catch-ups.