Lexica Buffet: In Which I Eat My Own Words

1. Details and more soon. Sometimes my problem with blogging is that whenever moments come that words remain planted and stitched down to my marrow and they refuse to come off my bones, I dismiss writing them up until I have the pleasure of time to relish them. The bigger problem is however, hours turn into days, days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months that I forget what my original point was (if there’s any), so I end up not posting anything at all. That or I use my complicated affair with time as an excuse to everything.

2. I hate public places. I can barely stand humans. Whenever I’m in a crowded place, I wish I have a flamethrower to clear the space with. However, watching people tones down my nerves. Somehow, at some point, I actually do find it very relaxing — being reassured that this is all real, that everything’s happening very tangibly, that these aren’t just dreams I had crafted once again.

3. Happy Lemon in Powerplant Mall, Rockwell is the bestest branch. Really, really, ridiculously good-looking boys + generous heaping of Rock Salt and Cheese froth, not to mention, the line isn’t as infinitely long compared to Eastwood and Greenhills. But then I give you two words: WEEKEND NIGHT.

4. I’ll be tucking in to sleep as early as 10 PM. Classes? None. But work, UGH. Not that I’m complaining, though. I actually signed up for thisthese. Plus, I actually don’t mind having actual money to dispose of. Consequently though, the only time I have for doing things for myself is at night, which to say, is being robbed by the good stack of books on my bedside table.

5. Thesis mode: on

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