The room is quiet. The only sound between the silent walls is a clock ticking.
The camera pans through the darkness, It moves towards the bed in the centre of the room. Faint moonlight shows a body curled under a white duvet.
Camera zooms into the sleeper's face. Music crescendos. Her eyes suddenly break open at climax.
-----
I retched my lungs out four times last night, over two hours in the wee of the morning.
Woke up at 3am to a bloated stomach and a sicking burning sensation in my throat. Before I knew it, I was fighting overwhelming giddiness and nausea to get to the toilet on time. Think of yourself squatting barefoot in a public cubicle with your head buried in the toilet bowl. Yes, it was pretty... bad.
A silly part of me wonders whether this is retribution for my pessimistic blogpost yesterday about my guano-infested new abode. Or maybe the barf session just became a psychological spin-off from thinking too much about shit (yes, pun intended).
And funnily enough, that was exactly what I did after the barf.
(Talk about cleansing from both ends!)
After the second run-in to the toilet, I grabbed the nearest bucket and put it beside my bed. Each time this happened at home, dad would never fail to get up, and sit by me. He'd soothe my back patiently and coo to help me feel better. This time, though, there was no one there. No one but a plastic bucket, some half-used tissues to wipe away the tears, and my wonderful Lord.
----
I had a meeting with Emilio today to discuss the possibility of copywriting for the Academy in exchange for training. I was half-expecting a difficult conversation and awkward silences--but he was open to the idea and I basically kept on showing how I could add value to S-C's marketing campaign.
All in all, if all goes well, I'm taking up two jobs to make ends meet. I feel a little like Younes El Aynaoui, and admittedly, I don't know how I will manage when serious training starts. Vincent my buddy sighed aloud when I told him about today's meeting, but I cut him short. "I have no choice, Vince. This is my only shot to train."
We've agreed to give this copy initiative a chance over Summer--and we'll see how it goes from there.
The camera pans through the darkness, It moves towards the bed in the centre of the room. Faint moonlight shows a body curled under a white duvet.
Camera zooms into the sleeper's face. Music crescendos. Her eyes suddenly break open at climax.
-----
I retched my lungs out four times last night, over two hours in the wee of the morning.
Woke up at 3am to a bloated stomach and a sicking burning sensation in my throat. Before I knew it, I was fighting overwhelming giddiness and nausea to get to the toilet on time. Think of yourself squatting barefoot in a public cubicle with your head buried in the toilet bowl. Yes, it was pretty... bad.
A silly part of me wonders whether this is retribution for my pessimistic blogpost yesterday about my guano-infested new abode. Or maybe the barf session just became a psychological spin-off from thinking too much about shit (yes, pun intended).
And funnily enough, that was exactly what I did after the barf.
(Talk about cleansing from both ends!)
After the second run-in to the toilet, I grabbed the nearest bucket and put it beside my bed. Each time this happened at home, dad would never fail to get up, and sit by me. He'd soothe my back patiently and coo to help me feel better. This time, though, there was no one there. No one but a plastic bucket, some half-used tissues to wipe away the tears, and my wonderful Lord.
----
I had a meeting with Emilio today to discuss the possibility of copywriting for the Academy in exchange for training. I was half-expecting a difficult conversation and awkward silences--but he was open to the idea and I basically kept on showing how I could add value to S-C's marketing campaign.
All in all, if all goes well, I'm taking up two jobs to make ends meet. I feel a little like Younes El Aynaoui, and admittedly, I don't know how I will manage when serious training starts. Vincent my buddy sighed aloud when I told him about today's meeting, but I cut him short. "I have no choice, Vince. This is my only shot to train."
We've agreed to give this copy initiative a chance over Summer--and we'll see how it goes from there.
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