Akin to the abominable snowman only better, because I'm not dependent on the weather.

 
A lack of sleep and vague ambitions of challenging the hip hop elite with subpar rhymes. It’s almost 4:20, but I’ve got nothing to celebrate, except a few pipedreams.

Procrastination is a subtle art form, and one I’ve spent years perfecting.Why stop now? Each sentence is an exercise in reinforcing the status quo.

This weekend has produced some healthy contrasts. The laughter emitting from our hideaway in Raroa was the best possible start, and made me feel happy to belong, if only temporarily.

However, the rest of the night was a voyage of wholly unfulfilling socialising, marred by reminders of an unhappy work environment, while the self-loathing crept in. The usually reliable social media platforms were only outlets of frustration, and were out of bounds for the night, to be explored further strictly during office hours (or so I claimed).

Saturday was spent counting my finances on one hand, and deciding to confine myself to the modest surroundings of 163 Lambton Quay. Afternoon naps and an evening of Breaking Bad is the extent of my Saturday night thrills. Oh, the joys of responsibility. Trawling Trademe for appropriate beds and getting sidetracked for several hours. Listening to a plethora of music and enjoying every note.

I swear if I time this right, I’m one yawn away from bliss.

Hmmm.

Where to now? I have no fucking idea.

Wellington is both intriguing and overwhelming in the same breath. I miss the comforts of predictability and familiarity. I miss my friends and family. I miss… a lot of people.

An attack of common sense brings me out of this reflective mood. No point indulging in regrets, you can’t change the past tense. This past week has been hard, with depressing news being the overwhelming headline in the printed edition of my life.

But in the end, things could be worse. At least I kept my job, my income, my means of staying in Wellington. For now, at least.

Ghostshark 2: Urban Jaws.

Bahahaha.

My eyes have grown blurry.

My stomach churns with indecision, and spicy Indian. Ugh. Here’s a bullet point summary of how I spent the last three relatively unproductive days:

occasional laughter
good company
terrible food choices
East Brunswick All Girls Choir
painfully awkward interviews
gleefully challenging cats
whiskey
brief hang times with Christchurch friends
Broken Social Scene
Drunken smiles
Buzzfeed
HANGOVERS THAT SHRED YOUR LIFEFORCE
Cohen brothers take on Noir
Apathy
Internets
Worrying
Just being friends
Spending money and forgetting the results
Kronic
The pitter-patter of rain on the roof
Mi Goreng
Sleeping in.

See, not much happened really. Goodbye weekend. Hello working week.

"Harmlessly passing your time in the grassland away;
Only dimly aware of a certain unease in the air.
You’d better watch out!
There may be dogs about
I looked over Jordan, and I’ve seen
Things are not what they seem.

That’s what you get for pretending the danger’s not real.
Meek and obedient you follow the leader
Down well trodden corridors into the valley of steel.
What a surprise!
A look of terminal shock in your eyes.
Now things are really what they seem.
No, this is not a bad dream.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want
He makes me down to die
Through pastures green He leadeth me the silent waters by.
With bright knives He releaseth my soul.
He maketh me to hang on hooks in high places.
He converteth me to lamb cutlets,
For lo, He hath great power, and great hunger.
When cometh the day we lowly ones,
Through quiet reflection, and great dedication
Master the art of Karate,
Lo, we shall rise up,
And then we’ll make the bugger’s eyes water.

Bleating and babbling we fell on his neck with a scream.
Wave upon wave of demented avengers
March cheerfully out of obscurity into the dream.

Have you heard the news?
The dogs are dead!
You better stay home
And do as you’re told.
Get out of the road if you want to grow old".

—	Pink Floyd - Sheep