One stop south of paradise.

One stop south of paradise.
music: boz scaggs - miss riddle

My house keys are starting to feel unfamiliar. When I'm back home for the weekends, I come up with my hostel room key each time I grope around my purseful of keys. Hostel life definitely ain't as luxurious as life back at home but I'm enjoying the freedom and independence that comes with it. It's nice to be fussed over every once in awhile, but I like having my own space.

This post is from home actually. Tomorrow's tutorial was cancelled and I figured I very much missed my clean bed. For the unenlightened, my hostel room faces the very dusty PIE, and my roomie and I are definitely not the most diligent of cleaners, haha. Dust can never be good if those darn pimples playing checkers on my face are anything to judge by. I need to do something about this, and I need to do it soon.

My emotions and intuition have been at an all-time high these two weeks. Many a time I've been tempted to channel them all into a song, but I just haven't got the free time to sit down and write. They've come and gone though, dang.

I'd better take full advantage of my night back home and get some shut-eye before midnight. I swear my body clock's gone haywire ever since I started hall life. Looking forward to a good run in the morning (would have hit the beach for the run but my kaki's got classes till noon) before meeting Lanxi in town for a spot of retail therapy and Jason for a movie.

Note: Pass Jason a dollar for the shoes he bought me. I know, my superstitions drive many crazy.

Night world.