Smell like you mean it.

Time was never something I've been keeping track of, ever since I lost my one and only watch a year ago. I tell Time now, by sitting out at the cafe, relying on the rhythmic monotony that passes me by as I furiously type away the countless emails, schedules and proposals. I rely on the idle conversations of people sitting next to me, and well, the time on this mac, if I remember it's actually on the top right corner.

It's been three months since I started working here. In all honesty, I am having lots of fun, despite the occasional fatigue from having too many things to handle. And three months it passes me by so quickly. Effective Time planning has never been my strongest suit. I never had a proper agenda, at best a dangerously vague list that pops up at the very last minute. Time has a sinister plan to rage against me, I think. Perhaps I am the freak-child of Procrastination, and I know I always win, barely rolling underneath and through the falling door of Time, triumphantly giving a victory sign.

My social life has effectively withered away with the current heat spells. As such, I've resorted to forcing my friends to visit poor old me at the cafe. So to whatever friends I have left, do note that I can be reached at 63, Haji Lane. Six times a week. Text before reaching or surprise me with your presence.

Meanwhile,

Happy 21st, Darren - Mariah Carey and Disney fanboy/fellow French and Saunders fanatic/best army buddy I ever had.


And bye Hongyao! You will be dearly missed. Hope to see you either at Mount Pleasant or your own practice in 5 years time with an aussie drawl.

Oh yes, my flickr account is back to pro!