A Quarter

This is me. Having an existential crisis at 4:46 in the morning. Because what better things I have to do at 4:46 in the morning besides delaying sleep.

Ah. Sleep. My favourite and least favourite thing to do.

(I do realise that this space revolves heavily around this topic, now if you could please pardon my passion that would be great thank you)

The plan was to wash up and go to sleep right away. The plan failed to be executed. Instead I watched Mr. Beast buying everything there is to buy in a grocery store all the while thinking what must a 19-year-old have done right to be able to buy everything in a grocery store. And here I am a quarter of a century year old not knowing what is next, not knowing what I want next to be. (In case it wasn't clear enough, no I cannot afford to buy everything in a store.)

In the past hour I have paid gratitude and appreciation towards my job in the form of moments of silences. My fantastically, terrifically wonderful job. A job not only I still have, but also have started to miss since two years ago. In Mr. Beast's universe, you know you've made it when you can simply buy a house or two and give it away. In mine, you know you've made it when you can't remember when was the last time you were C3*.

The silence was first broken by the interaction between my hands and the foil wrapper of my newly acquired Mars Pods, followed by the gigantic crunch (and subsequently, crunches) produced by the act of my teeth breaking down those little pods into littler pods and then into... disgestables.

Somewhere in between the action I deleted my 3-day-old LinkedIn account.

You know what else I wish I could delete? The entire season 8 of Game of Thrones. Just. Blah. When episode 3 came out, I was fine with it. When episode 4 came out, I accepted it. But episode 5 was bizarre and episode 6 was. Just. Absolute nonsensical turd. And I couldn't stop thinking about it. (My favourite song this season, by the way, contrary to popular choice, is The Bells) I think about it when I go to shower. I think about it when I'm in the crew bunk. I think about it when I try to order food. I think about it when all I want to is fall asleep. I think about it when I have nothing else to think about. 

These are the things that fill up my head these days. 15-year-old-me would be livid.

Thank goodness I'm ten years older than her now.

(P.S. Thank you for providing me with readership, as an incentive for continuity here is a scene that made me smile and forget about season 8 for 5 minutes this week.)

* not a desirable work position