Came in half day today because I got lazy again and wanted to have more than 10 hours of sleep. I had a lot of time in the morning and I still manage to arrive at the office late for the half of the day. To top it off, I've only washed about half of the contents of my laundry pail (should I get a hamper? Is that what it's called?). I only wash as much as how many unused hangers there are tucked under my mattress (I hide them from the evil hands of my roommates).

Summer is but a few months away, so I think it's good my condomates (they're the group in the other room) are selling fruit juices for me to pounce on. I wish they have something more zesty, like those cranberry-apple I buy at the supermarket. I got my consumer card (looks like a credit card) too, which can keep track of the things I buy and do something funny once I buy enough (oooh, zombify me now oh gods of consumers).

There's also something funny when I woke up. My cellphone is displaying cherubim's number for some reason. I don't think my head has tentacles of its own to do such a thing, so I checked the dialled/missed/received calls list. Found out I dialled it (funny/weird?). I guess rolling on my cellphone with my head can do such things nowadays.

Sigh. I've been spending less and less time with my old friends, and more with the new ones. I wonder if I'm going into transition? It's probably because the old forums I haunt has been blocked and I couldn't go there as much as I would like to. That makes me think. That place has had a lot of memories. Unfortunately, the sad ones seem to linger there more than the happy ones. I've seen a lot of people come and go.

And a big chunk of my history is in there too.

It was there where I've learned a lot of what I think today. But somehow, I couldn't brush off the feeling that I've outgrown it. It's as if even if there're new people coming in, it's like they're all the same like some colorless haze that I've seen over and over. Maybe because it was there where I've lost friends throughout the years. All the deceit, the disappointments, the crawling angst, even my own selfishness are all precipitated on the words I've typed and gotten semi-immortalized.

Where are you now?

Those are the words I would be saying, if I still cared. Six years. A lot of time to take into account for and write it as part of my history. At least, at this stage I no longer have any thoughts of "if only I could turn back time and do things right".

The only thing that burns me right now is, tomorrow might be good for something. That's a line from the song Unwell by Matchbox 20 by the way. I remembered my best gal friend giving me the mp3 to that.

Yeah, tomorrow should be good for anything. I guess that's optimism. A trait that I wouldn't want to lose.