I have been drowning in so much work lately it's not even funny.

Not. For some weird and awesome reason I believe I'm hot wired for workaholism. You know how I pretend I'm stressed, tired and burnt out when in all honesty I thrive in being surrounded with deadlines and demands? You see all of it is love. It's not just work but the totality of it-- the pressure, expectations and effort I need to undergo just to cross out one itsy bitsy item on my to-do list. It's all very fulfilling and it's all very very fun. That is probably why I cannot be stuck in an island left to enjoy a getaway. I can't sit still. Call me an attention-deficient human being but I just always want to go out there and do something.

Whenever I walk by the Sunken Garden I envy the people who go out to fly kites. I envy that they have free time. In my book, free and time are words that don't usually go together. No matter how commonplace the words sound when paired, in my life they are like similar poles on a magnet always, always repelling each other.

I should be forced by someone or anyone to just stop and breathe. Invite me to eat ice cream!

Before I sleep I usually think of many things. The thinks I wish for, those I've failed at, people who matter to me, my plans for tomorrow. But lately, I've learned to just think about how soft my pillow and bed are. Aaaah, that moment before REM is the best part of the day, without question.

Enough of this nonsense, now back to the realm of deadlines.

X, Danne