Intermittent bursts of static.
What if tomorrow is the end of the world as we know it, and all I do the day before is:
a) worry about how much I worry about work. Oh, for heaven’s sake: work is constantly in my thoughts – it tugs and twirls playfully at the edge of my mind. I do not need to count sheep; it dares me to attempt to finish up some work even in my dreams.
I wonder if that makes me a workaholic.
b) think about how Mr Collide could sound like Mr Right-Here-Waiting at times. Those singer-songwriters; they make me fall in love with them so, so, easily, and I am fast running out of fingers to count them all. Oh, woe. Who would have thought that Mr Bad Day could even make it into the list?
Still, that does not mean that I have completely dismissed the idea of speed dating off my head.
c) analyse my last.fm charts and finally being able to determine which bands are my favourite – backed by statistical proof. Sort of. I think. Well, it is statistics…
But they still owe me my pony.
d) try to figure out a way to get my new, fruity music player to play albums chronologically. Heck – for once, can things not be arranged in alphabetical order?... Oh, all right, I admit I was being picky.
In any case, it is the almighty fruit that all worship, and so I shall have to restrain myself from shouting bloody murder.
I guess I have a need to reassess my priorities.