On leaving.

The company has been great. The stay exceeded the notion of bearable. A period of eight months is all for a few things to last a lifetime.

Yet, in the dying hours here, my head is filled with asinine thoughts. I can't help but to forecast that it is going to happen again. A cycle that is destined to kick in after every parting. Maybe it's not that bad. But it is remotely the best. 

Packpackpack.Peck!

I now stand in the midst of packed items, accordingly quartered to their summer destinations. It's a process not to be undermined. Soon, this creaky top floor loft would convert to a past haunting. I must admit that communication was sparse. I was and still am a blithering hopeless at socialising around. Forever an outcast, I removed myself further from the idea of blending in. I had and would never use booze to loosen the tongue nor I was a keen member of the dancefloor. All that remains is an absence, which is something that I'm neither proud of nor regret.

Night wish

I have a fleeting urge to go to Tesco. I want to stand in one of the alleys, scanning the chaotic sea of packages that contain, preferably, food. And I'll stand there, and stare blankly at those colourful displays. And I'll stand there until the guard has to evict me from the premise, for the place is shutting down. 

I'm famished and half yearning for something chocolatey. Yet my conscience tells me that I shouldn't indulge the craving. 

I've reached a point that reality doesn't make much sense anymore. Such life.

Mocha is delicious, revision is not. Period.

This is rare, honest. Apathy has never swallowed me this deeply. PBL work = nada! It bugs me though but since this is gonna be our last session, I'll let it pass. No show today, perhaps? 

Sotto Voce

Do you have pesky teeny voices at the back of your head when you're ploughing through the mountain of lecture notes, online practice pages or text books? I do. In fact, this wee digression is a product of one of these voices.

It's really annoying considering the fact that you've strained considerably to put focus on your reading. But these haranguing voices, daring you to do stuff irrelevant to the task at hand, are always there. An omnipresent, infinitesimally important presence, if anything. 

Right now, I have these flitting happily through my mind:

- Did I miss something in that game?

- I should call them. Oh wait, how much credit am I left with?

- Where should I go next winter? Paris is definitely a yes but where else?

- Damn, the laundry! 

- Need to refresh Facebook now. God knows what have happened in the last, say, two minutes?

- Will there ever be justice in the world? When will Malaysian leaders wake up?

- What should I have for lunch today? Should I ask someone to eat out with me? Or should I just grab a bowl of cold salad from Tesco?

- Need to refresh Twitter too!

- What should I get her? And how to make sure it arrives on time?

- Who's gonna cook tonight?

And loads of other stuff. You see, I'm so distracted that there's no way that I'll ever get my revision done. Also, I have a very short attention span. I can hold it for 10 or 15 minutes. Or maybe less. After that, I'll do something really counter productive for hours on end. 

Acht weel!

Random rambling at half past one. In the morning.

I have to say that it did strike a chord somewhere when Jal pointed out that my blog is spending too long a time in desertion. To be honest, this sad condition is long noted by yours truly but nothing has been done so far and regretfully, it's gonna stay that way for a longer period. 

I've been wanting to continue doing my pet project for a few days now. I was fiddling with some ideas for the story development and even to the extent of creating the scenes in my head. A short digression in the form of rereading A Good School further augmented the feeling. I have to mention that, after a second reading, that novel is laden with dark and disturbing homoerotic connotations. But I mustn't slander that great work by Yates a porno because it's remotely that. It's just inevitable for a novel describing life in a single sex school to exclude anything sexual. Anyway, my point is, I could sense the long lost fluidity called creativity is brewing and coming back from its viscosity. 

I would have happily started tapping away on my keyboard but nay, I dragged my feet. Ultimately, all the sparks slowly died down and the last of the free running creative juice slowly seeped back to its little hidey hole. Yes, it stopped even before it began. 

Now, the future of my blog. I think I've reached that twilight zone. It's the time when I should seriously contemplate on throwing in the towel....

I don't know. God, give me strength.