Things have to get bad after they get good, don't they?
We have last night. Minute apocalyptic event, more on the scale of "end of the career" than of the usual "end of the world". Last minute work, a semi-all-nighter I would only attempt on a Friday. But we do what we must, and so there I was, punching away frantically ( I think the 'D' key is dying ) at my keyboard while the IronKok next to me provided technical support to a bunch of Israelis. But no matter how futile my efforts were, I was ready to take on the world. For a good thing happened, and when there are such things in our lives, we feel that life is worth fighting for. And so we fight.
Today, the good thing was taken away. No, ripped away cruelly without a second thought. This action is accompanied by a massive deflation on my part. Massive. I faced the possible end of my career last night with an impish grin, but now that the dust has settled, I once again look at the desolation of my life. Grim. Grey. That still blasted landscape of dead dreams and shattered hopes.
Which, come to think about it, isn't so bad. I especially like the different shades of greyness and the black jagged rocks. Makes for a nice break from all the colours I'm exposed to everyday.
At least the soupy beehoon I ate last night by the Seagate seashore is killing my stomach now. All that extra chilli sure can work wonders. I probably shouldn't have taken so much black pepper gravy for lunch today, but if I hadn't, then I wouldn't be in pain now. And what would my toilet sessions be without SKIN-SCALDINGLY HOT SHIT? Geez, I think the toilet paper totally wilted away when I wiped my ass earlier. That's what I call chilli.