Girls interrupted.

Girls interrupted.
feeling: the weight of the world
music: amos less ft. norah jones - colors

Ten traumatic laps in a pool monopolized by kids has led Lanxi and I to an unanimous decision - we're sticking to beach runs for our weekend workouts. Nothing quite ruins the momentum than the worry of kicking someone in the face; or getting kicked in the face by someone.

School work's starting. Don't get me started on CS105 and the four irritating journal reviews we have to do. I can feel my procrastination mechanism kicking in, but fight I shall.

Dad's going through a rough patch, and it struck me that I haven't really been there for him. It's a tough balance for I don't quite like to get embroiled in the workings of the family business; but I do want to lend him, if anything, a listening ear.

I know I haven't been quite myself. It has been an emotionally taxing week, made worse by an unusually bad bout of PMS. I wish so much to lift the weight off my shoulders and unburden it on someone, but I am oddly selective of confidantes. There is no problem, and thus no need for advice or solutions. What good would a listening ear be, but to listen?

I realised that I've made quite a few plans with people; plans which I am not quite ready to fulfill. I am perfectly fine, 'cept that my ticklish, trash talking persona will be too much of an effort to summon. I'm craving for a bit of solitude and subdued familiarity, and I don't think I'll make very good social company right now.

Copped out of dining out with the folks and instead treated myself to a long post rain run. Past the railway station. Under trees wet with rain. On the pavement. On the tarmac. Between badly parked motorcycles. Through dim alleyways and uneven grounds. Past semi-asleep shophouses. Three satisfying rounds. Times like these I feel I don't give my body enough faith in the distance it can take me.

Here I am in my jammies, showered and covered in Hazeline Snow. I'm ready for a good sleep, and for brunch with Jem in the morning.