relapse in retreat.
I.
I am bone weary, from the cleaning and rushing that happened today. Work with only 4 hours of sleep, and rushed hither thither hence to run errands and prep for room cleaning. It was hectic, hellish, and horrid. But it was fun. Feel pretty accomplished, turning smelly misbegotten lair into clean pristine haven for the unsocially inclined. It even smells nice. I am a genius. Too bad, could not rush in time to buy shoes. My runners will have to last yet another week. Bad, I hate it already. Gosh, how I chase after all things new. No proper runners means no proper running. I am getting good at this excuse shit ain't I? Hah. Realised the power of music - running is all about the mind (assuming prerequisite fitness and health level fulfils of course), and music really aids you mind in pushing the extra mile. Perchance Ipod will sponsor the marathons? Unlikely. But we dream, no? As I type, I remember the feeling, peering out of my pinkish cell atop the hills. It has a good view, but why do I feel so shut out? Very lonesome. Ideal for the recalcitrant pupil but pure horror to the social animal. We shall see who prevails.
miss.
Today was a day of hit and misses. Had gathered a motley crew of shoe buyers at the eleveth hour (ok, so it was 1 am... I am flex with time)... Anal vendor insist on quorem of 5, and we met that. Trust the archers to be shopaholics. I had forgotten how wallet-happy archer are. It is the hours under the sun and the constant targeting I tell you... what you see will be what you wanna get... off the field, the chanting of XXX becomes buy buy buy! I like. Born archer. If I could, I would wanna singlehanded revive the economy. I digress....
Anyway, what with all things being set, Mr Anal called and proclaimed that he is unable to sell us the stuff cos he wanna go home. He therefore demands that his customers comply with his timing instead. This being Singapore, we did. So no shoes today. We are idiots.
Equitable.Went home, lounged, packed, and scoured the house for necessities I would need, want, use or appreciate during my periods of self exile. It took 3 hours. Got me late for the ticketing slot I promised gracie. So I rushed. Thank God there was no hit, though i did miss a few red lights... heh. I drive like a mad man, and I know it. Stay away. Preferable off the road. I will bite. Not kidding. And if you are my passenger, pray. Again, I digress... I missed the agreed time by 5 mins. But XM was gracious and did not scream. Even loaned me her cleaning agents, which I forgot to bring cos I was so bloody late. I owe her a ddrink man. She just dunno yet. Hah. Another miss, when I saw my junior, but was too tired to chance. Chance pounced and made him my neighbour. I love chance - he is a fren. A third miss, when I brushed past Ire from salsa last sem along the corridors of my block. Flashes of recognition and mutual freigned nonchalance. Same lift. I will bribed Chance, and make him my best fren.
her.
It has been months, and yet I feel it like a mosquito bite. Itchy. Like a healing wound. Itchy. like dandruff. Itchy. The itch just wont go away. And scratching it makes it worse. I think I am developing an eczema out of this. And it did not help I have been in a couple of allergic situations that exacerbated the itch by way of reminder. I need a skin doctor. Chance can only accompany me to the doc, but only I can claim remedy.
Class rep for foundation of IP lost her phone. She looked so distraught. I should have helped. I should have offered comforting words. But I had not. I had only helped her as a SGrean would - point out stuff to her that she prob already know. I feel somewhat ashamed. AT the same time, I also question myself: Am I feeling ashamed, because that I had not helped her out of altruistic
inclination, or was it due to: 1) her good looks, 2) her foreign disposition, 3) her presence in a class that I sit in, and finally 4) her just being a person in need.
I realise I cannot answer any and not feel phoney. In that split seconds where she came and asked her question with unshed tears, my mind had already made all necessary evaluations. I felt ashamed because I had not put to act what I had mentally envisioned. I feel fake. Bleah. Is everything always relative?
I am bone weary, from the cleaning and rushing that happened today. Work with only 4 hours of sleep, and rushed hither thither hence to run errands and prep for room cleaning. It was hectic, hellish, and horrid. But it was fun. Feel pretty accomplished, turning smelly misbegotten lair into clean pristine haven for the unsocially inclined. It even smells nice. I am a genius. Too bad, could not rush in time to buy shoes. My runners will have to last yet another week. Bad, I hate it already. Gosh, how I chase after all things new. No proper runners means no proper running. I am getting good at this excuse shit ain't I? Hah. Realised the power of music - running is all about the mind (assuming prerequisite fitness and health level fulfils of course), and music really aids you mind in pushing the extra mile. Perchance Ipod will sponsor the marathons? Unlikely. But we dream, no? As I type, I remember the feeling, peering out of my pinkish cell atop the hills. It has a good view, but why do I feel so shut out? Very lonesome. Ideal for the recalcitrant pupil but pure horror to the social animal. We shall see who prevails.
miss.
Today was a day of hit and misses. Had gathered a motley crew of shoe buyers at the eleveth hour (ok, so it was 1 am... I am flex with time)... Anal vendor insist on quorem of 5, and we met that. Trust the archers to be shopaholics. I had forgotten how wallet-happy archer are. It is the hours under the sun and the constant targeting I tell you... what you see will be what you wanna get... off the field, the chanting of XXX becomes buy buy buy! I like. Born archer. If I could, I would wanna singlehanded revive the economy. I digress....
Anyway, what with all things being set, Mr Anal called and proclaimed that he is unable to sell us the stuff cos he wanna go home. He therefore demands that his customers comply with his timing instead. This being Singapore, we did. So no shoes today. We are idiots.
Equitable.Went home, lounged, packed, and scoured the house for necessities I would need, want, use or appreciate during my periods of self exile. It took 3 hours. Got me late for the ticketing slot I promised gracie. So I rushed. Thank God there was no hit, though i did miss a few red lights... heh. I drive like a mad man, and I know it. Stay away. Preferable off the road. I will bite. Not kidding. And if you are my passenger, pray. Again, I digress... I missed the agreed time by 5 mins. But XM was gracious and did not scream. Even loaned me her cleaning agents, which I forgot to bring cos I was so bloody late. I owe her a ddrink man. She just dunno yet. Hah. Another miss, when I saw my junior, but was too tired to chance. Chance pounced and made him my neighbour. I love chance - he is a fren. A third miss, when I brushed past Ire from salsa last sem along the corridors of my block. Flashes of recognition and mutual freigned nonchalance. Same lift. I will bribed Chance, and make him my best fren.
her.
It has been months, and yet I feel it like a mosquito bite. Itchy. Like a healing wound. Itchy. like dandruff. Itchy. The itch just wont go away. And scratching it makes it worse. I think I am developing an eczema out of this. And it did not help I have been in a couple of allergic situations that exacerbated the itch by way of reminder. I need a skin doctor. Chance can only accompany me to the doc, but only I can claim remedy.
Class rep for foundation of IP lost her phone. She looked so distraught. I should have helped. I should have offered comforting words. But I had not. I had only helped her as a SGrean would - point out stuff to her that she prob already know. I feel somewhat ashamed. AT the same time, I also question myself: Am I feeling ashamed, because that I had not helped her out of altruistic
inclination, or was it due to: 1) her good looks, 2) her foreign disposition, 3) her presence in a class that I sit in, and finally 4) her just being a person in need.
I realise I cannot answer any and not feel phoney. In that split seconds where she came and asked her question with unshed tears, my mind had already made all necessary evaluations. I felt ashamed because I had not put to act what I had mentally envisioned. I feel fake. Bleah. Is everything always relative?
posted by Zachary Shim | 9:29 pm
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