Twenty one years later, it just so happens that the embryonic lump becomes so much more and so much less.

Some things have been frustrating, others exciting.

Frustrated at the fact people would use religion as an answer for anything, but people have always been wont to flog off responsibilities to the whims of deities too self-absorbed to care.

Frustrated at the fact that money is necessary.

Frustrated at the fact that many people are not suited to be parents, yet insist on unprotected heterosexual intercourse.

Excited that some physical transitions are going along fine, albeit slowly.

Excited that travel can be adjusted along the linear path of the time-space continuum.

Excited that electronics usually have upgrades, that certain times provide discount vouchers, that sometimes the unaffordable become affordable.

The new year is just that: another fixed bracket of time that we choose to label such. Reality is that there's no real distinct separation point between our years. But when it allows things like periodic holidays, I guess I can have no real complaint.

Resolve to continue with physical transition, putting in progress at least three out of seven days.

Resolve to get past the limitations of money by getting a lot of it.

Resolve to bring things to a better level, at least where someone is concerned.

Resolve to come to terms with having another two years in something that is proving less and less fun as the years go by, just get it over with.

For the less smart (as you like to call yourself), here is a condensed, err, short version of the above:

Until now, still not good, not bad.

Some things fun, some things not fun.

Angry that some people so stupid and lazy.

Angry that I'm broke.

Angry that stupid people have children.

Happy I'm not so fat.

Happy that airline bookings can change.

Happy that got new iPod model, and got eBay voucher.

Err, blah. As long as got holiday, can.

Go to gym 3 days a week.

Become rich.

Be less fussy, have more fun.

Stop being so lazy.

is fat...

... in photos.

Always behind the camera for a reason.


Holidays are great. Even better if your back isn't charred. Even better yet if you aren't fat so you can don the skimpy. Or no donning at all. But when you have the cutaneous texture of citrus and the relative dimensions to match (all noticed in retrospect, of course), there's really nothing to be done.


A quick review of the current situation: very little money (not really in the big paying jobs now), going to be very lonely very soon (alone is nice if money is there, but usually when you have money you have these remorae stuck to your underside), very little to do (completing Oblivion for the sixth time now), and worst thing is the weather is going to scorch very soon.


Time to ramp up the gym routine, tone down the eat routine, run like a headless chicken, play a bit more of the M to the t to the G. And make more money somehow.


Lonely is great in a way that is not. And people not putting any effort into communicating strongly suggests that the relationship is dying, if not already dead.