I gotta pack?

So, I still haven't touched a thing while supposed to be PACKING. The word itself gives me goosebumps, as I've done that more than 30 times through 7 times of house moving (yep, it was the university hostel's call, not mine) and myriad flights over the past 7 years. Packin' is heavy work which I think a man should do; a woman only shines in categorizing stuff and pointing fingers as to where certain stuff should go. Unfortunately no man volunteers *sigh*.

Jokes aside, it is, in fact, a very big part of me that doesn't want to get started. I've grown a love for this tiny room on the 9th floor over the year. Last summer I moved in, awful sick and funny-lookin' with a swollen cheek due to a stubborn wisdom tooth. I don't know where time's gone, but now I have difficulty making myself believe that I'm really leaving. When the mind is hesitant, the limbs won't move.

I loved this room at first sight. When I saw the lime wall, I knew it must be mine. The wall's color makes me feel energetic always, and I have a set of lime bedding to match it. I fetched all IKEA stuff back (bedhead lamp, standing lamp, bedding, desk, chair, soft toys, clock, dustbin, etc.) with eagerness, just like a happy worker bee. Things that have stayed with us for a period of time appear to have souls, and definitely it's their souls that I'm gonna miss badly, for as long as I could reminisce...

Sleepyhead

+ =

So, a new calendar huh!

Nothing new has yet happened, but it can't be denied that we gotta start using another calendar from today. So, it's about time we said this:

Sour

That's it. No more thinkin'.

When life turns sour, add in some lime pulp blended w/ mayo and vinegar. Don't ask me what kinda drink that is. Instead, give me ice cubes.

Just trying to sound complicated. Well, simply I need a break from my corny cheesy pathetic way of living.

Dust off

One thing led to another, and the end of the chain is still nowhere to be found.

Watched sitcom "Ugly Betty", season 1, episode 1. No laugh, not even a smile. It's so real, she's right inside. Doggedly determines to follow what she wants to, though others keep saying that it's unreasonable. Breaks down when dream shatters. Has trouble dealing with all daily financial stuff, from small to big, with no job and an unrealistic career target. What's there to laugh? There's no fresh blossom or rainbow of a color spectrum or bird song or blue sky decorated with fluffy clouds to paint quite a spring picture. It's no comedy but a real tragedy to the character, if one's experienced it for just once.

Others have been telling me the should-dos. All of them are absolutely right, yet put into my reality, it's like someone's on the edge of a cliff which pierces into the sky and telling me, who's kicking hopelessly in a swamp, over the phone to practice bungee jumping. Oh boy, it doesn't matter what I am, whether I'm special, I'm persistent, I'm really bull-headed, or my ego is huge enough or not; and I'm in no way trying to prove it. There's one thing I do gratefully extract from these conversations - I should learn how to free self, and that, I guess I can only get from "a DIY store". It's about self, isn't it?

"Is your life collecting dust?"
"No more, I'm dusting me off."

Do you ever believe in something "written in the stars", in other words, fate?

Decided

I did.

What's in it for me?

It's just nothing at all - New Year, Christmas tree, all the rush, all the sparkling ornament... They ain't shine in my eyes. What's in it for me? It's freaking hot here and never is there a sign of a snowy winter like that in Walt Disney's cartoons. In fact, the festive sparkle belongs to us, not vice versa. It's thus so not right to say that we're happy 'cos someone cries out loud, "Yeah baby, it's Christmas time!", or because of the series of cheerful Christmas songs played repeatedly in every shop. Every holiday is just an occasion to be happy for happy people. It appears ordinary to the rest.

People look forward to having some days off, gathering in homecoming parties, drinking, and getting themselves voluntarily in heaps of crowds on the street to share some fun. Oh boy, I simply yearn for silence, and look forward to another holiday, the one that still remains shrouded in mystery. I wish I knew when it'll come. This is like a scene where everything is cloaked by the mist in the early morning. Just one damn fact is that it isn't early morning anymore. Pissed off.