Note: To those visiting my blog, perhaps for the first time, the sought after 'marriage proposal' is the next entry down.
Am giving my derriere a rest somewhere between the second and third floor of Jaya Supermarket although I daresay it has had enough sitting down today and every other day for that matter. Have just bought more highlighters; the ones that live with me during the exam seem to have a very high mortality rate. For some reason I really wanted a purple highlighter add some excitement to an otherwise dull reading of blue, pink, green and orange, colours which anyone else might choose, rendering me insignificant and a mere cog in the works. Purple on the other hand, is the colour of royalty. For some reason, Popular bookstore in Jaya only offers individual purple highlighters for sale. I was hoping for a 3 or 4-in-one pack which included purple. The big, big problem I encountered was that all of them insisted on packaging yellow as one of the alternatives and I loathe yellow, I really do. I use it in defiance, to show that I am forced to, coerced to, bound to do whatever it is that requires me to use a highlighter. Other mundane colours, I use to show a more compliant and positive attitude and purple, well, it just screams volumes of the inspiration I am sponging from the subject. For the second time this week I nearly cried and all because I could not find pre-packaged highlighters that included purple.
It is in some ways, frightening to note that it does not take much as of late, to make me come completely undone. Okay, maybe not completely, seeing as I still have the coherence and commitment to scribble down words into a little notepad I carry around just so I can feed my blogsphere. I think the shrink can wait another day. I wonder if exams propel similar hormones in a woman as when she experiences ovulation or menstrual cycles or menopause (guys can start running in fear if you’re not man enough to stay :p) that turn us, or maybe just me, into emotional wreckages. Speaking of guys, there is an issue I have been tip-toeing around; this one person, let’s call him X (not the same guy who happened to infiltrate my dreams and proposed) has been a source of subtle worry that was not big enough to bite back straightaway but maybe tomorrow I’ll need to take a stand and nip this. After all, I have never fancied myself the type of person who would be involved with a stable boy although on Sunday I agreed when Andrew suggested that a cowboy should be on my ‘list.’
The guy who constantly serves meat Starbucks looks like an Aaron… or an Alvin or an Amos. Whatever his name, he looks like someone whose name might begin with ’A.’ Sitting in Starbucks to study is fine until the day hits 3pm. At that moment in time, the sun reaches a point in its course where by default, it shines directly into Starbucks. Blinds or no blinds, the feeling is still distinctly uncomfortable. I usually take the beaming sun as an indication that I have been sitting there long enough and take the chance to stretch my legs and find another joint, unless I happen to take the far table where the negative effects of the sun does not reach. How long I stay in one place also usually depends on how much I spend there. For RM27 anywhere, whether Starbucks, DeliFrance or Secret Recipe, the waiters and waitresses will have to be resigned to the fact that one patron will be occupying a certain table the whole day. Smugly I admit that I can I do a whole nine to five of study without even a toilet break.
Now, down to the legal side of things, because I wrote this on a notepad and will only admit this into my blog afterwards, should the contents of this entry ever go to court because of any matter, the notepad would have to be admitted as primary evidence and the blog entry would be considered secondary evidence. However, under section 90A of the Evidence Act 1950, any document produced by a computer in its ordinary course can be deemed primary evidence as long as it has not been tampered with. I don’t know whether the legislators who drafted this section meant computers as in bank machines which run automatically or whether they meant to include computers, namely the Intenet, which, although are computers by definition, cannot run on its own accord.