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Today is one of those days that I wish to write and write about nothing and everything. You know the feeling? The one where sometimes you can talk non-stop about just anything under the sun? It’s as if it’s the most liberating thing to do, to express yourself in a free manner and not be bothered about being judged one way or another. The problem about being spontaneous and holding a never-ending conversation about unrelated topics is that maybe the other person isn’t really listening and thinking “God, when is she going to shut up?”. But then again, if it’s just me talking and someone else listening, it’s not really a conversation, is it?

If you have read thus far and still reading, and find me irritating for babbling non-sensibly, I suggest it’s time to quit reading this post because I’m about to ramble on about things that aren’t important or logical to anyone. It’s just a need I have to release my flow of thoughts. It feels congested in my head and I can’t exactly go scream it out loud while a plane flies above to stifle my voice. It’s not that I’m frustrated or unhappy, thus the need to let it out. On the contrary, my mood is pretty good for a while now. But still, sometimes people need an outlet of some kind. Well, this is mine. Right now I'm very restless and anxious.

Am I talking like I’m drunk? Speaking of which, I do wonder what I’ll be talking about if I were drunk. Probably something stupid enough to embarrass myself and everyone else around me. So friends, if one day I’m out with you and I’m drunk (my guess is that it won’t happen because I won’t be drinking. But just in case…), please, for the love of God, just put me to sleep. And no, please do not ever make me drunk on my wedding day. I insist on drinking only Chinese tea or maybe soft drinks on those “yum sing” rounds. Well, if we have to do the “yum sing” rounds, that is.

Do you believe in dreams? By dreams, I mean the ones that happen while you’re sleeping and not the ones about achieving your first million in the shortest time possible. I used to remember my dreams very clearly but of late, they have become a distant memory and most times now I can’t even recall what they are. I’m fascinated with the world of dreams and like to decipher the messages behind them. Alas, since I can’t remember them, there’s nothing for me to interpret. Does this imply that I’m still looking for myself through my dream messages? I don’t know. Consciously, I think I know what I am and what I want. If my subconscious says otherwise, well it’s about time the subconscious come on out and tell me in the face what I don’t know.

Are you still reading this post? Up until now I haven’t said anything that makes much sense. You only have yourself to blame if you read my illogical thoughts and get frustrated, ya?

In the mornings while on my way to work, I tune in to the Mix Breakfast Show hosted by Richard and Shaz. I like them but I think Shaz tends to over-pronounce her “R”. I’ve got nothing against Shaz, and I applaud her for wanting to pronounce her words as perfectly as possible. But overdoing it spoils it for me because it feels like she’s trying too hard to speak with an American accent. Everyday when I hear her, I tell myself I’m going to write a friendly email to her and voice my opinion. But then, I think even the friendliest of email won’t do any good because she probably will read it, feel offended and then tell everyone on air that there’s this nobody telling her how to speak. Then her fans will ring up and say nice things to console and defend her, call me names and ask me to leave her alone. Probably not worth it to write that email, you reckon?

Hey, what do you know, I’m feeling better already after rambling. What a day it has been.

*Stretch*