In like a lion and out like a lamb

I hope I can float like a butterfly and sting like a bee instead.

Although, bee or butterfly, it feels as if I have my wings clipped right now.

Oh wait...bees have wings, right?

I guess that's telling of just how mashed up my already messed-up brain is at the moment.

I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that it's been a long time since I last had a decent catch-up with my bed.

I have been feeling incredibly stupid the entire day, in almost every way.

In all seriousness and without a trace of spite, I feel sorry for my
Senior Art Director (to be known as SAD from here on).

So sorry that I almost feel like apologising.

It sounds like he is used to working with copywriting brains that have a much faster processing speed in his 19 years.

Apologising, however, will be stupid - it is akin to robbing someone at gunpoint and telling them "I am sorry I'm poor, so please do not mind that you are now being forced to gimme all your money". Even to myself, my own response to that apology thought (to the SAD, not the robbery victim) is "Well, learn to become great then, what's your problem?!"

I am absolutely certain he did not mean any harm at all when he shared with me how he and his partner in other agencies used to work, how their brains were trained to function. More than anything, I think he meant it as an insight for me to mull over..."putting money in my pocket", like how the characters in Hongkong cantonese drama serials like to put it.

After all, if my judgement of character is not impaired, he is a nice guy who is serious about his work. And he has been great in guiding me at work so far, both in a direct and indirect manner.

Perhaps my friends are right, after all.

Maybe I am having a case of bipolar disorder here.

Can I have that "chat with my doctor friend" that I have been offered now?

And finally, what I would really like to know is...

"Why can't someone bottle creative juice and sell it at Cold Storage?"

Make that Sheng Siong, for better affordability.

Alright, time to get my pea-brain back to work.


P.S. In case you are wondering, right up to this moment, I still love my work and where I am working.

P.P.S. I have a sudden craving for rosti and sausage at Marche.

P.P.P.S. I need m-o-r-e coffee.

P.P.P.S. Oh dear. The birds are chirping now. Dawn is breaking. Think, think, think fast.

P.P.P.P.S. Much as it sounds like I have been complaining up to this stage, I am not. Truth is, I really do work better at night and I appreciate the dead silence. However, I also do appreciate getting some good nights' rest sometimes, for recharging and machine-maintenance purposes.

P.P.P.P.P.S. Oh gawd, I just had an idea! Yippe ya ya yippe yippe ya! But I can't judge whether it's a good or bad one...let me think it over, over more coffee.

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I think it's not a good sign if I fished a tube of instant coffee powder from my bag, walked from the bedroom to the kitchen to fix the drink, and realised I had been holding a tube of hand ointment in my hands.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Can you birdies go back to sleep, please? The worms are still tucked in their muddy beds at this hour. You are stressing me out like a perpetual time-reader.