<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar/13431006?origin\x3dhttps://theotherpandorabox.blogspot.com', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
Sunday, April 19, 2009 2:08 pm

A post in a very long time.

I am not a faithful blogger to begin with. Thus, just for the sake of it of saying it, I will not be blogging on such a 'regular' basis from now onwards. The reasons are plentiful but it mostly revolves around the same idea of "mugging". For the first time in JC life, I actually intend to forge ahead in lectures-at least for Economics. I hope it can make me understand better? But more importantly, it shaves off the guilt whenever I doze off or go into a trance or decide to be possessed by Picasso's spirit.

As the stupid NAPFA test is coming up, I have been running fairly frequently these past 3 weeks. As it turns out, I run on alternate days- the days which are not occupied by training. And just to spice things up, I only run at 4.30pm for reasons that only one person knows at the moment. Hur hur. My legs feel tired. Maybe it's because I am weak. I am not arguing.

Swimming today was torture. The coach decide to take it easy, on himself, and he made us do something very creative.
Swim 30 laps.
I suppose it is a good thing that we get to swim whatever stroke we want. But by the 20th lap, my legs were like jelly and I was literally getting myself carried away by the waves generated by those kids peddling like mad on their floats. I swear kids below the age of 12 run on crack. I used to be one of them.

I think I am ending my post here. It is rather abrupt I know, but my brain just ran out of ideas to talk about. Planes is calling me.


what do you do if you miss someone?

this used to be a funhouse. But now it’s full of evil clowns.