רּ (rĕsh)

It’s funny but my blog entries on Friendster are pretty much sporatic moments when I actually have time to myself and for myself. Half of the time, my schedule’s depressingly manic and on the fastrack to Stressville. It’s little wonder why my boss has summoned me to take a week off.

Memo to self: Will do so when I find the time…

I sometimes wonder if life’s all about work. I’m not complaining but I’ve always seemed to have real serious jobs.

Like where was my cheap-tip waitressing stint or mundane graveyard video-store clerk shifts?

Instead I’m having to deal with financial reports, logistic queries, advertising proofs and press releases.

I’m only 23 and yet it already feels like I’m halfway through my quest in finding the road to retirement.

Maybe I’ll do a Michael Jackson and try to relive my carefree adolescent youthfullness now til I’m 25.

Um, $7 new DVD releases anybody?

Or how about a tip (15%+) seeing I’m disgruntled this Monday morning…?