mantra

Out of damp and gloomy days, out of solitude, out of loveless words directed at us, conclusions grow up in us like fungus: one morning they are there, we know not how, and they gaze upon us, morose and gray. Woe to the thinker who is not the gardener but only the soil of the plants that grow in him.

- friedrich nietzsche

wiki.dumper
magmozine
a.guy.site
bad.chinese.mama
jejune.net
a.cause.des.garcons
spit.on.a.stranger
sluggernaut
honeyee
zefrank
born.a.waterhead
diane.pernet
tribe.net
gallery.of.the.absurd
world.community.grid
smarty.pants
bradford.shellhammer
wonder.boy
ohlala.mag
julie.fredrickson
fashionologie

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today would be my final day at this place. fortunately, my final day coincides with some festivities (not mardi gras), and work hours are cut short by half. splendid. i have the entire half of the day to do stuffs. i have yet to conjure a plan to do all those 'stuffs', but i think i might spend those time tending to my orchids, my (not in good shape) dionaea, rabbits and chinchilla.

actually, i should be spending this time studying, since i have yet to open my consumer behaviour text book for the past two days, and truthfully, i am quite bored with the preparation for the class presentation. it is tiresome and i lost my interest in that subject. this is bad. bad! as a punishment for this transgression, i shall be denied exfoliating and moisturising privileges for a week.

posted by frau frump.

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