Epochalypse comes.

The weekends feel shorter.

Not by far of course, but by personal limitation and the need to know it was time well worth spent -for a weekend at least. There seems to be a need to fill it with activities (or non-activiites) given the limited time ‘free’ and acitivites that have been anrrowed down to occupy that new zone of ‘freedom’.

There’s a rather insidious realization that seeps into my consciousness sometimes. Its more prevalent after I retire from a night out with my old friends from college. That we’re not in college, and we all work.Its the transition … of adjustment. It could evolved, or would evolve to the transition into nostalgia.
"Early nights …"
"I can’t do all nighter’s anymore … Just this once."
"Not another night in a row …"
Exchanging professional stories rather than more personal ones. But there’s still an underlying sense of camaderie that has to be breached on a completely separate and secondary  topic as it seems relegated to more private, deeper roots.

Does life get in the way?
I like to flippantly use the excuse, but it *is* life.

We become more set in our ways and faces. We start to solidify our morals, standiings and groundings (if we haven’t before as a opnionated pre-adult). OUr faces set in, changing less and settling more.

Some see it as a good thing hoping that now they will start to grow and become more than who they were before and could now be. Others try and recpature the glory of younger days already so soon, seeing a bleaker, more discontent side to the larger scale of life.

I hate breaching through transitions. It important and I do look forward to change but its hard to let go even if I do remember. In fact, that makes me more tenacioous.

Well, I guess I hsould end there before it becomes more self indulgent rambling (more so than before).

Till the next pocket weekend of ‘free’ time!

Non-social commentary.

Well maybe it is, because I’d like to address all the stupid people in the world first. If you don’t understand my words, you have my condolences. This is because I personally, put very little effort into making my blog friendly enough for idiots to read. As you can tell, I’m not in the best of moods but ask around my friends and acquaintances, I’m awfully fair when I direct my vehemence. The only way to prevent if is to offer me a peace offering. Preferably someone like Brad Pitt … or I’d be happy with someone like Paul Walker too.

—

"Males, on average, think about sex every 7 seconds."
Come one guys!, we can do better than this!

—

Now that I’ve cleared the clutter and dustballs of random thoughts out of the dusty mold called my brain, I’d address the largess to my current state of affairs.

I like my job, in a way. The only thing that makes it appealing is the fact that it provide me money. Money makes me afford many tthings I want but don’t need. I’m in the business of making people buy things ‘wants’ instead of ‘needs’, so its only hardworking for me to indulge in the nature of the business. Excusatory, why yes it is!

I want to have a body of sin, The kind where other hot guys will beg to have sinful sex with. Thats a want I fully acknowledge. I would like to be exstatially vain about my new bulging biceps and flat washboard abdominals. I joined a gym, and if I don’t get the body I paid RM$190.00 /mo. I’m gonna to be pissed. I’ll be taking it out on my friends. But they know this, its one of the acceptable perks of getting to know me. All they need to ask if whether they want a fast ego-defeating death or a slow petty personality deconstruction?

I’m slowly losing time for myself. I used to love sitting around psuedo-lethargic staring at inconsequentials like televisions or my education certificates.
When you have to commute to work, the travel time kills my ‘alone’ time. Now I have to speend it staring at the most abnormally public people on the transport system for 3 hours a day. (1.5 hours one-way). On the other hand, every now and then , there’s some really hot guys and gals. Those individuals deserve my fullest attention, from blatant stares, licking of lips and the unabated fleeting homo-cidal sluttiness.
I get a car soon.
Really.
Yup.
*nods up and down
No, you cant.
Seriously.
Well, only if you brother comes along.
Actually you can stay home.

—end—