Daily Journal – August 30

Daily Journal - August 30




I am stressed out of my head. This week, my to-do list has been growing faster than I can clear it. Only one day left till September and I haven’t created my new tracking and planning spreads. I have 16 pages to make before the 1st but I won’t have time to even start till the 3rd, at the earliest.

I have been so, so fatigued all this week and suffering from sleeplessness. Also feeling sad that I haven’t had time all month to spend on my interests. I hate being an adult.

Life is too frustrating.

But I must stop this line of thinking now. I can feel the darker thoughts trying to take over. Go away, dark thoughts.


I’m grateful that Piers allows me to have all my online shopping sent to his office because I hate answering the door. Or the phone.

Pygmy kids

Recently, we thought about buying pygmy goats as pets because a neighbour’s goats had kids. But how can I take care of pets when I don’t even have time to take care of myself?

If you ask a doctor whether ativan is addictive, then also ask how he defines addiction: addictive only medication for which “you have to constantly increase the dose” to achieve the same effect. For this reason, SSRIs are not addictive, but after weaning, you still have a lot of fun with the withdrawal symptoms.


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Diary of a DSLR – First entry

Diary of a (rich and famous) DSLR

Well, hello! This is all rather exciting, isn’t it?

Oh, but I am EXPLODING with anticipation and I simply must proclaim so or I shall BURST INTO FLAMES right here and now. A new adventure is on the horizon! I cannot wait for it to happen, I CANNOT!!!

No, no. I must refrain from hysterics. I am a dignified being, surely.

Let’s try again.

My story began in a large chamber where I slept alongside thousands of my kind for… oh, I cannot remember, far too long.

Admittedly, there isn’t much of a story to tell. Whilst all the empty-headed plebs chattered amongst themselves, I slept and dreamt of the day a genius photographer would rescue me from warehouse purgatory to begin the fulfillment of my destiny.


Nikon D750 + Genius photographer = Fame and fortune


The day has come!

I’ve always known that I was special. For what reason would I have been created but to become the DSLR that takes million-pound photographs? Yes! I will be rich and famous, the camera of the century, admired and praised around the world MWA HA HA.

Ahem. Excuse me.

I must confess, though, that I am plagued by the tiniest sliver of doubt. My new owner looks rather flighty and I wonder if she knows the first thing about photography. Has there been a mistake in assignation? Surely, my owner should be someone who looks more, I don’t know, distinguished and important?

This supposed owner is called Sheylara and I have observed that her home is full of heart motifs. How could that bode anything but bad? Look at where she has placed my battery charger: Atop a dainty and miniature cupboard FULL OF HEARTS, what?


The little cupboard with the hearts



Oh, I KNOW something is definitely not right with this girl.

I mean, it’s not just the cupboard! It’s literally EVERYWHERE! Are you ready for this? Even her dinnerware has hearts!


Dinnerware with hearts



What is that I CAN’T EVEN!!!

(Okay, calm down. Dignity.)


It is possible that I am mistaken about her. We shall have to see. They say that geniuses are quirky. Perhaps she is merely one of those eccentric things who have trouble conforming. She may yet turn out to be The One.

Or… OR! It could even be that she is the idiot daughter of the real genius photographer, and has misappropriated her father’s possession out of impertinence.

Ah, yes, that must be it. Hope blossoms.

I shall report again when I know more. Wish me luck!

Cartoon Nikon D750



Fuck the title

I don’t want to whine about my life.

I started blogging years back because I like writing funny stuff and I want to make people laugh.

Of course, I do talk about my career woes, but that’s just to share the gritty side of showbiz that most people outside the industry don’t get to see.

Other than that, I try to write only happy, funny things.

The sad, angry things I leave for my personal diary.

In recent times, unfortunately, it seems like someone has stolen the funnies section of my life.

But, still, I don’t want to whine.

The poem I wrote is one way to update my blog and still express myself without whining (I hope).

Forgive me if I seem distant to well-wishers. I do appreciate the concern.

I don’t like to whine and I don’t talk about my troubles because I don’t have any grand illusion that my troubles are any more important than your troubles.

Everyone has troubles. Nobody wants to hear mine. That’s my theory, anyway.

Besides, troubles are usually compounded and go way back to when one is, like, three years old. How can anyone give an accurate picture of their troubles without providing all the background? That’s why people who see psychiatrists see them for years and years. They have to start from the very beginning.

(But I don’t believe in paying money to have someone hear me yak about how sad I am two times a week, the least of which reason being that I don’t have the freaking moolah anyway. It would serve me better to just write a damn autobiography and maybe make a few dollars out of it.)


I’m trying to blot out ignore cover my eyes see no evil hear no evil fuck off the damnable ache that’s grinding in my heart grinding it down to nothing.

I want to start writing stupid, funny stuff again, regardlesss of how I feel.

Who the fuck cares lah.

Sorry for the disruption to our service. We will be back with you shortly.

And here’s a random picture from my pictures archive because too much text is boring.

Screenshot from Star Wars Galaxies

(That, by the way, is the “toaster droid” I was talking about in a previous post. It got killed by a stupid frog I was trying to kill.)