new den

This weekend, I'll be shifting out of the dump I've been living in for the past 8 years. It stopped qualifying as a house around the 5th year when the upstairs water-tank leaked and neither our upstairs neighbour nor my houseowner wanted to pay for repair, shoving blame at each other until the whole place stank like a pig-pen and was covered in moss. For months I lived in fear of the ceiling collapsing on me in my sleep (I had a lot of unconfessed sins and hence wasn't ready to meet my Creator just yet... and come to think of it... not now either) and had fretful nights of sleep dreaming about evil mushrooms growing on the walls and ceiling and releasing evil spores into the air which would then travel down my respiratory system... *shudder* (shuddup, smoking is nowhere as scary, mmkay?)

Anyways, plenty of cleaning and packing to do, and of course not forgetting the best part - buying new stuff! I've basically piled all the clothes I want to bring along into one of the Dell CPU boxes I bought from the garbage lady for 50 cents a piece. The exciting journey of trashing unnecessary knick knacks and discovering long-amissed documents/pictures/junk in the weirdest nooks and corners will officially start today. It's gonna be tough, since I'm not really a throw-away-old-stuff person. (whaaaat... I'm nostalgic, mmkay?) I can just imagine someone rubbing his hands in glee at the prospect of throwing away stuff on my behalf, though. Sigh, sad parting... oh junk.

Am going to compare prices later at a coupla hypermarts. I don't reckon I have enough moolah to Ikea-nize my place just yet. But that won't diminish my determination to turn my room (alas, I can't afford the whole house either) into a college student's wet dream. I want it to represent every country's typical decor. I want it to be culturally eccentric in its mish mash of worldstuffs. Translated: Anything cheap goes!!!

I think KC will kill me.

tumbleweed

It's funny how life works, sometimes. The pain that you thought you couldn't recover from losing an important something or someone fading into numbness and then one day you realised you've totally forgotten about it. The things you hold on to for dear life, afraid of not being a complete being if you lose them... you lose them. And when the tears dry up, when you finally accept the harsh reality of the cruel fact, the very thing you lost once again appear out of nowhere, by chance, by fate... like a klump of hairball you find under your bed meandering towards you, gently aided by the wind...

Some might say it's God's little early Easter present. He tests you, to see if you are willing to let go of worldly possessions, even when you like them very much, even if you think you cannot live without them... with goodies in store for good boys and girls that are obedient enough to screw their eyes shut and suck in the mucus. Or, some might say it's the work of the Devil. The flaming asswipe invades forlorn and sad minds to conjure up remedies that are soothing and calming in the short run and damaging to health and relationship with the Big Boss above in the long run.

So what's my deal? Which promo pack am I getting? I don't know, I'm busy smiling.

"But I will go down with this ship
I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love, and always will be"

bliss!

I am outlandishly magnificent. I am exquisitely intelligent. All you inferior earthlings, cower in terror! Bow in awe!

Wow. That was extremely therapeutic. And, contrary to my feng-shui premonition and tarot prediction last night, today went SPLENDIFEROUSLY great. Yeah, like, totally.

Come on come on ask me why FASTER ask me why ask me ask me ask me I need to get it out please ask me why ask me...

I was appointed the acting Art Director today. Whoa yeah. As I'm typing this I feel chilling goosebumps riding up my spine, I kid you not. Like, last night I was just exploring the possibility of being an Art Director someday, right. Sometimes I have this creepy mental image of Boss reading my blog in the dark, rubbing palms and chuckling in evil glee. Nowadays whenever I blog in the office I commando-crawl and slither around securing the perimeter first. ANYWAYS... I came up with 4 concepts, direction and copy for the day. And the feeling of looking at my brainchildren being transformed from scribbles and drawings of stick figures on scrap papers into multi-coloured things that seem ALIVE... Well... Like children, you can't understand until you've had one.

I have this overwhelming urge to start whistling. But I'm having these dry fits of coughing that make my lungs and tummy and head hurt. Not mentioning the dry heaves. I'm wishing for phlegm to come at this point of time. Then I'll have a proper, deep, glamorous cough.

rawr...

Another weekend has come and gone and I'm sitting in the office past midnight trying to do the math to justify where the heck did my weekend go. It was a blur of work, dinner with friends, some shut-eye, and more work. Things are really picking up at the office now, which is actually good because it forces my frazzled brains to the grindstone. And Boss has been approving the stuff I write without amending a sentence, which is great (from both professional and emotional viewpoints). Either I'm beginning to churn out stuff more interesting than lukewarm gnat's pee, or Boss has grown too sickened to even try to pound the right concept into my creative juicer machine upstairs. Either way, I feel like an award-winner. Woo! And I did help a little in the major pitch that the company won.

I'm in such a peppy mood. An encouraging "I like this line" or "Good job" can do such wonders to a broken and battle-bruised ego and morale. Really. I'm so inspired to go further at work. Even if it means cancelled appointments with favourite friends, or murdering the weekend doing research and conceptualizing, or catching precious naps in church mid-sermon, or not blogging for almost a week. Yep, tomorrow can be a bitch (very very likely, as I dread writing crap for banks), but today is dandy. Let me just hold on to the dandiness a while longer. And dream about being a super-successful and sought-after Art Director someday. Then I'll work from home writing only things I like. I'm seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, comrade. It's so good to feel ambitious about something again. Woo!

There's a humongous load of laundry to be done at home. I should probably get to it, before the aura of warm ambition wears off and I run out of clean underwear. Hmmph.