I think I'm scarily good at this art of cyberstalking and finding things that I'm not supposed to find. It's a skill, but it's not exactly very moral either.
I need to stop sleeping late on the nights before early mornings. The issue is not about waking up as much as it's terrible to do so. It lies more with feeling shitty the whole day - and the fully packed day starts at 8am and ends at 8pm. And it isn't even work. And speaking of work, it's work tomorrow on a public holiday. Fantastic.
But heck. It's 100 days to ORD!
Physiotherapy earlier was immensely tiring and I guess it didn't help that I've had an insanely throbbing headache since a day ago. The only bright spot was that the physiotherapist is quite cute. Albeit a little too bubbly. Haha.
Grabbed a random SD card from the box because I wanted to send some photos for printing. Stuck it in the computer and opened the card's directory. Thumbnail previews struck like a lightning bolt from nowhere. Have been judiciously avoiding a certain master album in that labyrinth of a catalog ever since then... But I guess even the best efforts sustained for a long time can fail due to unforeseen circumstances too.
I have never liked Friday nights at work. It's quite a downer that you have to put on your uniform and report for duty while almost everyone else is TGIF-ing, knocking off early or going for a night out in town. And it doesn't help that people have a tendency to do very stupid things very late into the night or straight into the wee hours of Saturday morning.
MRIs are quite disconcerting. Scanned the knee today and the entire experience was rather unnerving in a way. I thought changing into a hospital gown, putting on hair wraps and ear plugs, answering repeated questionnaires and then sitting for a long time alone in a quiet room with the artificial drone of the machine through thick lead doors was bad enough.
It was worse when I entered the room with the huge machine inside. Layed down on the machine, had them lock my knee in, put on headphones, elevate me and then slide me into the chamber. It was somewhat akin to the raising of a coffin into a furnace.
The door slammed shut. I tried to concentrate on the very soft and lousy quality 987fm music being piped. It was futile. The machine was extremely loud and the sounds were varied but all very space age. My ear drums were protesting even though I had 2 layers of protection on... And the weirdest part ever was when I swallowed my saliva. It sounded as if I just clutched-in on a crazily zhng-ed Subaru with that metallic pneumatic hiss.
Weird much.
Aside, plenty to do. Need to stop procrastinating.
Sometimes it's just terrible that you're doing so many things in such a hurry that you don't actually know what the final goal is, isn't it?
I need some focus in life.
0117 hours in the City of Angels. The last morning of yet another short stay in this city that I've come to like despite its many flaws. This trip warrants a proper post another time... But for now, somehow, the songs of The Script seem to remind me of a great many things. Sigh.
Suppress it and stay strong, please.
