It's been four days since I last blogged, and I'm positively bursting into hives. This embarrassing revelation should really be making me blush, but instead I find my mind otherwise occupied. With trying to keep this post from being a... ahem... 'sorryexcuseforapost'. Or a 'terriblybadpost'. But, I'm afraid I'm being overly ambitious. Sigh.
Am now scrounging for a decent pic to put up here, if nothing else. This is ridiculous, clearly. Yet, as always, I persist.
Haven't found one yet. Geez!
Right then. Will instead write about how absolutely gorgeous it is to have a four-day week. Or about how, today, for the first time in ages, I actually felt useful at work. The last time this happened, I was mass-producing Excel sheets about data, that, in retrospect, was utterly useless. Yet, back then, that precious day, I felt terribly productive. Today, I poured over a survey map and divided about four thousand square kilometers into twelve bits. On paper, of course. With lines and everything! (I had to use the edge of my book, for want of a ruler. Such dynamic improvisation! Gasp! I must be promoted to manager this instant! *banging fist on table and looking sharp*) Yes, madly exciting, I know. Still, given the absolute rubbish that I usually do at work, today was enough to keep me on a nervous, jittery, frenzied, yet very functional high the entire day. Or maybe it was a Katatonia song. Hmmm.
Could also talk about Arundhati Roy's 'God of Small Things', except I don't feel qualified to, given that I've only read about fifteen pages so far. Still, fifteen very good pages so far. I nod in approval, yes I do.
Or Basketball Diaries, the movie. Just finished watching it a short while ago, and expectedly, continue to whole-heartedly admire Leo di Caprio's acting abilities. Gangs of New York, Catch Me If You Can, The Aviator, The Departed, What's Eating Gilbert Grape, Blood Diamond, The Man in the Iron Mask, This Boy's Life. Yikes! Realised how many of his movies I've watched! But anyway, brilliantly made as this one is, it didn't punch me in the guts as much as Requiem For A Dream did. Maybe I've just watched too many junkie movies. The first one, Requiem, killed me, but since then, Ray, Walk The Line, Trainspotting, Blow, some of Lord of War... the junk angle somehow just doesn't pierce as much anymore. Maybe I'm getting colder. Things shock me less with each passing day.
Still have not found a post-able picture. This is downright appalling! Meanwhile, entertain yourself with
this link, courtesy Skanda. Is very informative and interesting-like.
*nod*
Oh, Facebook is my latest distraction. It's thoroughly... distracting and pointless. I likey! It has also duly informed me that the drink I most resemble is a Cosmopolitan, and that I'm most like Hermione Granger. Go figure.
I often really have nothing better to do (<-- for
all those
thousands of people who visit my blog daily and haven't figured that out already. Hyuk!)
I also think Thom Yorke should be canonised. All hail St. Thom Yorke! Convent for boys! Heh.
Some days, I can amuse myself endlessly. Stop smugging, Dee. Which, by the way, according to Dictionary.com, means "
to make smug or spruce". Er.
Oooooh, finally found one! Taken on my way to work, sometime last week. It's what I live for, these days. Walking to and from work. The best part of my day. The music, the deliciously crisp winter air, the scent of grass, leaves crunching chubbily under my shoes, blue skies, and my red nose. It really is nice to have a reason other than a steaming cup of coffee and a peanut-butter-jam sandwich for waking up in the morning.
São Miguel, little green Azores.
Okay, more brown-black than green. Wiki lied.
I swore and swore and swore that this post would have real, actual text strewn about everywhere, real written stuff. Proper words and everything, even whole sentences, after what feels like centuries of silence. Ambitious plans, I made.
