Go Ahead, Ask Me
Is there a question that you’ve been meaning to ask me? (This being my blog, I guess I should take advantage of the opportunity.) Anything about me or what I do or how I think or feel?
Well, there’s the tag-board at the left hand side of the screen. If you have one, and just one, question you’ve been meaning to ask me, then fire away. I’ll answer all questions as a blog entry.
Don’t worry. I won’t take it against you. (But my demonic minions are beside me to assess the maleficence of your inquiries, and are prepared to haunt the dreams of those with malicious intents.)
Indulge me.
In Need of Sloth
I got out of the office close to midnight last night. The floor was deserted and death quiet, only broken by the muffled rumbling of the elevator’s ascent. I hurried off the floor, fighting off that tinge of childish fear brought about by stories that tell of the spirits that had found solace at Atlanta Center.
Country Waffles had just closed for the day (or night, depending on how you look at things), so I taxied to Whistle Stop - Libis for dinner. Yes, dinner. I tend to do this from time to time, holding off dinner till literally the last minute of the day.
At Whistle Stop, I had their “Power Breakfast,” a protein-packed meal of two sunny side-up eggs, a corned beef patty and garlic rice. It’s one of the default meals I’d order when I’d find myself alone in any Whistle Stop branch. It’s not the best meal in their menu, but it’s the safest in terms of taste. You can’t lose when it comes to corned beef.
After dinner came the customary two cups of coffee, along with my short reading for the night, an article from Scientific American that sheds scientific light on the legendary Delphic Oracle who, according to tales, supposedly miffed Oedipus with news that he’d off his dad and knot with his mom. The researchers concluded that the trance-like state experienced by the seers during divination sessions was induced by the gaseous emissions - - namely methane, ethane and enthylene - - of bituminous limestone. Interesting.
Another article I’ve started to read was about witchcraft and science in the 16th century. (I’ll finish that one tonight.)
I took a taxi from Whistle Stop and got home at around two o’ clock. When I woke up this morning, I was a vegetable with a headache. Like an inebriated zombie, I swaggered to the phone to call Marc at the office to tell him that I’d come in late. I would have not gone to work if the day’s load wasn’t that heavy or urgent, but that sadly wasn’t the case. Good thing that my fellow designer Bok made sure that things were under control. Bless him.
I’m becoming more convinced that I’m taxing myself to the limit in both brain and body. If only I could get myself to stop using my brain for an extended period, then maybe my condition will normalize. Right now, as I type this, there’s a wee ache running from between my eyes up to the middle of my spacious forehead. Sana tulog lang ‘to.
Is there a question that you’ve been meaning to ask me? (This being my blog, I guess I should take advantage of the opportunity.) Anything about me or what I do or how I think or feel?
Well, there’s the tag-board at the left hand side of the screen. If you have one, and just one, question you’ve been meaning to ask me, then fire away. I’ll answer all questions as a blog entry.
Don’t worry. I won’t take it against you. (But my demonic minions are beside me to assess the maleficence of your inquiries, and are prepared to haunt the dreams of those with malicious intents.)
Indulge me.
In Need of Sloth
I got out of the office close to midnight last night. The floor was deserted and death quiet, only broken by the muffled rumbling of the elevator’s ascent. I hurried off the floor, fighting off that tinge of childish fear brought about by stories that tell of the spirits that had found solace at Atlanta Center.
Country Waffles had just closed for the day (or night, depending on how you look at things), so I taxied to Whistle Stop - Libis for dinner. Yes, dinner. I tend to do this from time to time, holding off dinner till literally the last minute of the day.
At Whistle Stop, I had their “Power Breakfast,” a protein-packed meal of two sunny side-up eggs, a corned beef patty and garlic rice. It’s one of the default meals I’d order when I’d find myself alone in any Whistle Stop branch. It’s not the best meal in their menu, but it’s the safest in terms of taste. You can’t lose when it comes to corned beef.
After dinner came the customary two cups of coffee, along with my short reading for the night, an article from Scientific American that sheds scientific light on the legendary Delphic Oracle who, according to tales, supposedly miffed Oedipus with news that he’d off his dad and knot with his mom. The researchers concluded that the trance-like state experienced by the seers during divination sessions was induced by the gaseous emissions - - namely methane, ethane and enthylene - - of bituminous limestone. Interesting.
Another article I’ve started to read was about witchcraft and science in the 16th century. (I’ll finish that one tonight.)
I took a taxi from Whistle Stop and got home at around two o’ clock. When I woke up this morning, I was a vegetable with a headache. Like an inebriated zombie, I swaggered to the phone to call Marc at the office to tell him that I’d come in late. I would have not gone to work if the day’s load wasn’t that heavy or urgent, but that sadly wasn’t the case. Good thing that my fellow designer Bok made sure that things were under control. Bless him.
I’m becoming more convinced that I’m taxing myself to the limit in both brain and body. If only I could get myself to stop using my brain for an extended period, then maybe my condition will normalize. Right now, as I type this, there’s a wee ache running from between my eyes up to the middle of my spacious forehead. Sana tulog lang ‘to.
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