I've got a LOT of articles left to edit under 12 hours. Booo. Not cursing the raket because extra money is always good (very, very goooood), but I AM cursing myself for putting this off until the last minute (again). In light of this seemingly-desperate situation however, I will Pola my way through it (naks, my name is a verb now. HOHYEAH!) by procrastinating further. DON'T WORRY WENGAY I WILL FEEEENEEEESH DEEES!
A weird, random thought --
If Ted Mosby has his front porch, then I have my Sunday morning smoke theory; that is, a means of judging which of my relationships will last by determining who will meet up with me on Sundays to smoke cigarettes and pass the time ten, fifteen, even twenty years' time. I see Maka, already a legend in the field of psychotherapy, using her trusty metal rods to help us move past issues (that really should've been put an end to decades ago); or console me for being in my loveless marriage (it, apparently, is written. DAMN YOU, RODNEY!!). Pia, by then, would of course be married (not a smug married though -- hello Bridget Jones's Diary reference; I'm such a girl yo), and will try to sneak a drag or two while Thena and Eric flit about. Reg would light up stick after stick, regaling us with her newest list of people she hates that week, while I, in response, help by gamely plotting said people's ruin (to no avail). I foresee occasional appearances by Kakki (who will rag on us for still being smokers), Ada, some A1, Syete and 9r people, and even Mikey (who hopefully by then will not be Beebee or Sparkles McGee or whoever). Haha.
This isn't to say that other people who don't make my Sunday morning cigarette list aren't important. (I seem to have left out some people, for example, who are dear to me but don't belong in certain groups. SoRryZ nA pOh! <-- yuck) But I think it'd be a great life if after decades, I still find myself in close contact with the persons i did name. This very random thought wasn't meant to sound syrupy, the primary objective was to voice out in words how luxurious it feels to smoke a cigarette on a Sunday (babaw!), but I guess in my own way, I'm throwing out what I want (what I really, really want -- haha!) to the world in hopes that I get what I picture to be an ideal ending. It's by no means perfectly happy -- as detailed earlier we'll all be old albeit still issue-ridden by then -- but in a world where apparently the only thing constant is change; I hopehopehope that these people stay permanent fixtures in my life.
In other news I haven't spoken to my mother in three weeks in what initially was an epic stand-off. Now I miss her and I feel horrible. I'm...sorry? :(
Also, I miss Rock Band. I also want a Kopi bun. And damn I really need to finish these articles. O-M-fucking-C. Hahaha.
Maybe I'm ready to throw it all away
- I'm gonna get it done, get it done... before the night segways to day!