I woke up really late yesterday. I had a client at nine, and I came to at around seven-thirty. And because I'm not one of those insanely functional people who are up and running the moment they open their eyes to the morning sunlight and the amazing dust particles that seem to always go with it, I spent thirty minutes debating whether I had enough willpower to reanimate myself and jump off the bed. Well, I eventually acquired the willpower. After thirty minutes.
And because I was especially late, I had to do without my bath. YAY!!
So I've been talking to myself, repeating the same line for approximately twelve times, "Be still, my beating heart." I like when my heart beats extra fast. It's awkward. It's scary. It's exciting. What I don't like, is when fast heart beating moments start to overstay their welcome. That's when they make me begin to think about death. And as much as I love thinking about death, I hate thinking about it accidentally.
I don't know about you, but I'm getting my second bottle of my 1.5 litre Cokes.
I'll be off to Manila in five days. I'm just so excited to see the light rail transit. And my friends. Okay, so maybe not in that order.
I guess it's time to resurrect my Tagalog skills.
Good thing I never forgot, "Tangina yan!" It comes very handy when I'm with my college friends. And that's one of the few reasons why I miss them. Okay. One of the many reasons.
Hahaha! (Just had to add it somewhere, in case someone thought I was being serious - about not having many reasons to miss my friends. But, yes. I was serious about the foul language. Always.)