Diarrhea

I wanna have one. A diarrhea of words.

But these days it's been a constipation.
But it's all good.

What I have is time.

Yeah. I suppose.

So even if I said I'm constipating,
you'll still end up reading (perhaps) alot because I spent a few hours here,
just going on, and on,
and on and on and on.

Heck, I can even just type and on and on and on and on forever.

But I won't.
Cuz you'll just skip the whole post then.
You'll do a huge saccade jump until I end the part where I say and on,
and your brain will work again only when the words are other than "and on".

Oh my.
So proud to be a Cognitive student.

I only know all the .. manifest stuff.
Nothing latent.

Oh what did I want to say?

Oh yeah!

Dear tofu,

Are you coming to stay over before you fly to Australia? Haha.

Ok, next.

Dear Mel,

Are you watching yet another sunset?
Please sleep, will ya?
One of the possible causes of death is lack of sleep.
Erm.. yeah, you should tell that to Jen too.. mm hmm.

..and you know what?
I've been drinking Starbucks these days.
For the stamps.
For Peppermint Mocha.
I love that drink.
It's just too good.

I've been sleeping at 5am in the past few days.
Some people compliment me,
some are surprised,
some are concerned,
some don't know,
some don't care.

But it's okay.
It's all a chain reaction.
After all, I brought this upon myself.
It all started with me failing my Research Methods.
The one thing good about it is,
I'm probably a tad bit more concerned about my grades now.
Like on a previous scale of... 0.9/5.0,
now it's... 2.5/5.0
It's quite a hike don't you think!

..and I'm currently listening to Angels Cry by Mariah Carey ft. Ne Yo.
I'm tired, and not tired of this song.
No idea why.
The point is I'm still repeating it on my WMP over and over again.

Oh right,
went out with Moon :)
After the Matterhorn dinner..
we went over to Starbucks and sat for about..
one to two hours..
and we just talked and talked and talked.
Mostly me bitching.. about I guess, everything around me.
So good to have a listener (:

Speaking of which,
do you know my love language?
It is care.
..which is probably why my love language in terms of the five determined by.. don't remember his name, is Quality Time.
It's the closest to care.
When you spend quality time together, you're investing time for each other.
Somehow, that's one form of care.
Letting me care for you makes me feel loved too.
Accepting my care makes me feel loved.

What I least need, and abhor is hypocrisy.
...and somehow I feel that.

Anyway,
I shouldn't be dwelling on these right now.

More priorities.

Like striking the 201 Lab Report on my self-actualization post,
and ...

stuff.

11.53pm.
I wanted to post: I want to cry.
But no,
other than (maybe) feeling better,
crying doesn't do a thing.
Why do I need to cry before I work?
Why not just work?
A new triangle for my self-actualization (you envision it la k):

201 Lab Report.
Her part.
Waiting for her part.
Her part.
Vroom vroom.
Sleep.
Headache.
My part.

After vroom vroom,
the four parts above will actually be striked,
because it's just my part, my part, my part, and my part.

Ok, now I need to be prepared.