Pause.

Of A Begrudging Minion.

I don’t know what possessed me to open up a blank post and start writing, for I have nothing to say. I don’t think that should be an issue though because after all, this is a blog, who reads those?

 

I still haven’t hit the book fair, or collected the last paycheck from the job I recently quit. I have to say, I was rather bothered by the unceremonious reply to the e-mail I sent  informing them that I quit. I had to send three of those for them to notice I’m gone. God knows it wasn’t for lack of hard work on my part, but then again I’m reluctant to see it’s for lack of organization on their part without having my head tell me to stop staging egotistical airbags for the crash. But then again what was I really expecting? That they’d beg a freshman with no credentials to stay at all costs, seducing me with an undeserved raise? I guess I’ve still got some rough edges to sand away. Oh Egypt, where application e-mails’ only replies are delivery notification failures. I’m yet to find one job where hard work is not repaid with frustration and disproportionate workload for little to no pay. I want to tell myself that it’ll change once I’m no longer an undergraduate, but who am I kidding? This country ladles disappointments quite generously and wouldn’t take no for an answer even if your belly’s full to the brim. Where are my manners? Ladle on, I’ll stuff myself some more.

 

 

On a happier note, I’ve found my meditation spot and ultimate happy place, and it’s the balcony in the waiting room of my dad’s clinic. Unsurprisingly enough, it’s the only place where I can just sit there, thinking of everything and nothing, and feeling good about it for no reason at all. Maybe it’s an aura-related thing, I don’t know. Frasier has also been yet another of those no-brainers that have helped me relax over the last few days, I’ve found that it supplies the civil conversation that this country lacks.

 

I’m in such a fowl mood, something my uncle used to say springs to mind. He’d sit there looking at my drudging at my homework and remind me - to my adamant dismay - that I’ll miss this when I’m out of school. He’d say “At least now you know your hard work is going somewhere, and have the luxury of knowing where it’s going too. You don’t get that in real life. Out there, the only confirmation you get is hope that you were smart enough not to point your work off a cliff.” Of course at the time it was mindless babble that I never quite registered, but now it makes a whole lot of sense that I can’t accommodate in my current state. Uncle, if you’re reading this, YOU WERE RIGHT! Gloat on.

 

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go watch Frasier and master the art of homemade Oreo shakes.

The Secret To Life, The Universe, And Everything.

Why This Perfectly Normal Morning Is Odd.

This is an odd morning, on more than one occasion. For instance, I just sympathized with a mosquito. Let me explain, mosquitoes don’t quite go out that much in winter, you can think of them as your average senile neighbour who never managed to pick up the paper after November. This particular mosquito lazily hovered by in the middle of January. I didn’t have the heart to shoo it because I couldn’t help but think that maybe that mosquito’s family didn’t care that much about him anymore, how they wanted to send him to an old people’s home and he took it too much to heart that he fought and regained his freedom only to be left homeless in this awful weather. I’m sure the chill down his spine isn’t triggered by freedom as much as it is by frostbite. Poor mosquito.

 

Knowing me, you’d see it was only a matter of time before I’d eventually

get into anime, and truly that time has come. Although, I cannot for the life of me understand how the hell anime has not been ruthlessly attacked by feminists. I mean they tore Shakespeare a new one for putting females in vulnerable positions and then you watch anime and all you get are airheads, inferior creatures and babbling ingénues and they’re like ‘oh okay then, cool’? It just doesn’t make sense! Also, Japanese metal is disturbing, and I mean a whole new level of disturbing. Which reminds me, Japanese anime is not above killing protagonists and it is not unusual to fall in love with an anime character. It is quite natural, I suppose, one of the many loopholes of being a sapiosexual is the fact that you will fall for anything that radiates an air of intelligence even if in fact it were a thing, or you know, if it were a thing that doesn’t actually exist.

 

 

I’m oh so very glad TV shows exist because we wouldn’t have been able to afford that much therapy with my college education. Another reason why this is an odd morning is that I'm inexplicably craving steak and a glass of dry red wine. At least now I can see why philosophers have died trying to figure out what women want. However, I'm in a good mood today, because when you've been in a bad mood for long enough it bypasses 90 degrees and approaches 180 then you're cool again. Although I have to admit, my reaction to the birds wasn’t quite as mild as they show it on TV; I had the urge to shoot each and every one of these feathered kooks in the face with a bazooka. I’m not a morning person, not one bit.

 

I’ve been having a little bit of an identity crisis lately, so much that I have a feeling that if I ever go to a fortuneteller, she'll just look into the crystal ball & see a future full of anime, coffee & books. They say the middle child gets the best of both worlds, well I'm an only child, I get all worlds and the dimensions squeezed in between..but that’s not always good news. Besides, why should I have an identity crisis and you don’t? Hm? Google 'askew', regain faith in less than 2 seconds. You're welcome. Now type illuminati backwards dot com and lose faith again.

 

Have a great day.

As For Planning..

Roz: Ever heard of Lupe Velez?
Frasier: Who?
Roz: Lupe Velez, the movie star in the '30s. Well, her career hit the skids, so she decided she'd make one final stab at immortality. She figured if she couldn't be remembered for her movies, she'd be remembered for the way she died. And all Lupe wanted was to be remembered. So, she plans this lavish suicide - flowers, candles, silk sheets, white satin gown, full hair and makeup, the works. She takes the overdose of pills, lays on the bed, and imagines how beautiful she's going to look on the front page of tomorrow's newspaper. Unfortunately, the pills don't sit well with the enchilada combo plate she sadly chose as her last meal. She stumbles to the bathroom, trips and goes head-first into the toilet, and that's how they found her.
Frasier: Is there a reason you're telling me this story?
Roz: Yes. Even though things may not happen like we planned, they can work out anyway.
Frasier: Remind me again how it worked for Lupe, last seen with her head in the toilet.
Roz: All she wanted was to be remembered. Will you ever forget that story?

The Best Birthday Gift, Ever.