What a difference a day make when you're working--have got to-seven days a week and find your own crib boring as hell that you wish you were still at work, or, somewhere else--a crypted name tucked on your mind.

Worked on Sunday has never been so boring, and humid. I felt my face area was so oily and damp, not to mention my back. Looking up at the standing steel fan in its max power my mind ran for comfort, "Well, at least my shift will be finish in less than an hour." The busy road outside the thin dark bluish glass has its own beautiful life, the next door bakery got many customers that day, life's been good for some, including mine, it's just been a bit slow and flat lately.

"It's Sunday," I said to myself under my long breath, now sitting between a man my age and a woman, much older than me, on her back to my face eventhough the seat is nothing but a one long row where you are supposed to sit with your back on the side wall of the car, "I miss holiday." Friends, um, people I meet on daily basis have been in rough moments, at least that's how they carry themselves, faces full of clouds of thoughts. Cheerfulness is nowhere to be found in them and I am kind of unable to bring back the wackiness we used to share.

Am I in a state of whining? Fuck no.

So I tried to get some happy tracks on the online radio, ended up listening to The Climb from Miley. It didnt work. So to make me feel better and assure myself that there are a bunch of pissed off, suffering people in this world, I read some outbursts here [you need to read this article on www.disappointinglybeautiful.blogspot.com in order to open the link.]
And It didnt help.

A long hot shower?
The Hot tub doesnt work at home.

And I dont even have any [new] porn.

But in the end, life is wonderful and simply easy: I ate early dinner [forgot what was it,] took shower, and slept early.