It's Monday again, and I feel like a decapitated soul. Normally, when I feel like this, I plug in to my favourite curbside prophet to chase my woes away. But today, the bad aura is rather omnipresent. How ungodly.
I took the longest time getting ready this morning because I literally got ready on the bed secretly hoping that I would bend the space-time continuum so I can get more sleep. Clearly, I am out of my element (and mind) in the morning. How Hiro Nakamura of me.
I put on my shoes and realized I still had sand in it from last Saturday. Well, if you ever wanted to know what it's like to be in my shoes, just add some sand into it. Then, you're pretty much me. (Hopefully, with this half-crazy suggestion, you will stop robbing me of my thought patterns and find your own) Ermmm, selit.
Back to Saturday, we were at Sentosa in the wee hours of morning. It was kinda nice to walk in the dark, past the trees and weird sculptures. It felt very "Narnia" to me.
After our short dark trail, we found rest in the chairs and tables at a closed restaurant overlooking the train railway which wasn't all too great, but I had great company. We saw rats and such, so we stacked up chairs as if it was a mini-fortress, protecting us from evil.
Thereafter, we were playing in the sand outside Café Del Mar. Of course, the night wouldn't be complete if we didn't do an inappropriate dance to commemorate our impromptu adventure. Yes, my little crazy ritual.
Let me tell you about Sundays.
Sundays are painfully boring and important. The only rest I can afford is well-spent on a Sunday (Wouldn't it be awesome if we could buy Ice-Cream Sundaes using rest?). I need it to recuperate because I've worn myself out the past six days of the week. I'm given the luxury of pulling out my remote control and putting my life on pause for just one day. Isn't it a tad ironic that we remotely have control over our lives too?
I make no plans nor promises and in some sense, Sundays are my freedom time. I know so well about the age-old lament on freedom, but freedom can be so mind-numbingly boring. Please prison me with life's vicious routines because I'm handicapped without it. After all, what would you with so much time and nothing to complain about? Our minds have been well-conditioned to hunger for hedonism as if there is no happiness in pain and pain in happiness.
That aside, Sunday nights are even more painful because it just means that Monday is a few more hours. I feel like a pig at the end of his days, waiting to be slaughtered and made into sausages so I can be clobbered and gobbled down by the evil mankind.
Oh, the very real problems I face splits my brain into half like a watermelon lacking juice. I suspect I'm feeling abit metaphorical today so if you don't quite get me, feel free to approach me. Which is better, cheap or free? Talk is cheap and you can only even afford it at a bargain. So, please stop parading the stuff you can't afford. Ermmm, selit again.
I actually have work to do but I'm delaying just because. My little rebel ways has my heart racing and adrenaline rushing.
On an entirely different note, I am so glad my dear bestie is now as fit as a fiddle. Her words, not mine.
To end this post, check out the lyrics to our new hot single:
Souljaboy eat maggi, yo
Miyagi eat myo-jo
P.Ramlee eat mee soto, and mee rebus
What about you
What about you
What about you
(repeat till fade)