The Day Something Bad I Ate Turned into A Swirling World of Crazy that Almost Led to a Puke-Fest.

That was Tuesday, and the food in question was Maggi Mini in a cup. After regurgitating it into the toilet sink, the world was spinning as though I just got out of a carousel after three hours, and it even spun while I closed my eyes. Somehow I managed to tell the people I was chatting with online that I needed to go, and fell asleep until 7.

And then the mother came and woke me up, insisted that I ate plain porridge for dinner (with canned Fried Mackerel and Black beans, so I didn’t protest) and then go rest up. I was pretty alright after that; everything was still tilting from time to time, and when I walked I was pretty sure I was swaggering (“Yarr… is it the boat, or the rum?”). I felt like puking sometimes, but heck; puking takes the worst out of me, so I held it back by eating mango (it helps, really, especially if it's sour).

Somehow I managed to type down a huge remainder of my final report, the ones I left out of procrastination and a stalemate battle between Do or Do the Tekken. The next morning I rushed out the parts that I left purportedly, edited it quickly, printed it out with the appendix and then flew down to PJ to hand it up. All done without breaks; I was still pretty proud of myself, until it happened to me that I could’ve avoided this and gotten it done last Friday.

Well, done is done, and now the swirling has ended and I’ve safely discarded the other packets of the Maggi Mini. I’m free and nothing else should be bothering me unless I saw myself to be bothered.

In all the mess, I even forgot to wish Vic Happy Birthday on Tuesday. Happy Birthday!

(You’ll forgive a friend who had a final report to rush and a massive headache to boot due to some instant noodles, thus forgetting to wish you, would you, Vic? Non? Please?)

(Please?)

(Please? =P)

(Thanks for this pic by the way =P)

Ah, as they say, freedom is felt by the sense of weightlessness on your shoulder, as though the strains of gravity and the worldly power of depression is vanquished by the heavenly wings that spout from your back, bearing you into (temporary) bliss. And somewhere in the clouds, the air with fill your lungs with sweet, Soda Pop tangs and momentarily the angel harp will play in serenading harmony. Oh, Bohemia!

Yeah, well, freedom is dependant, obviously, on the state of what you have just escaped. For me, and for this moment, it just meant that I have more time for myself. And time is all that I need.
I think I’ve had the holidays planned out well enough; I have days for complete leisure, days to take care of some unfinished business and days reserved for freelancing gigs and unplanned family thingies. Ah, there’re a few days, perhaps, for some planned family thingies, which should involve going for a short vacation, and heaven knows we all need that to clear our systems.

Something brighter looms ahead, and being just the good shipmate on board, I steer right towards it.