Dazed.

EDIT: I'm writing this bit in red, bold, and italic font because I honestly don't know what I just wrote down there. I'm emptying out my already empty brain. So basically when I walk out of here, my brain is at zero. Reset button, please, because I don't know what the hell I just wrote down there and I honestly do not give a flying fsck. Please forgive the language, the absurdity, and the stupidity of it all. This is what happens after a weekend of dancing, sleep deprivation, routine choreography for 6 hour stretches and not eating enough.

 

Would you believe that alcohol was NOT involved? Hm. I don't think so. But seriously, not a drop touched my lips. Bleh.

 

Night night.

 

So I'm back from the Palmy.

 

And because I was stupid enough to rush off without fully checking my bags, I've just realised that I left my laptop cable back in Palmy and now, I'll have to wait til it gets here before I can blog at home again. So here will be the entry on the work desktop then.

 

So what's new over the weekend?

Apart from me being quite tired and not exactly sleeping well due to the fact that my sleeping bag wasn't exactly enough protection against the cold, it hasn't been too bad at all. We did some dancing, plenty of practice for the routine and I'm definitely looking forward to the Simply Ceroc weekend that will take place in about 5 weeks time.

 

Man.

 

I'm definitely zonked.

 

I feel zonked, and I think I look a bit zonked as well right now. Bleh.

 

I'm sitting in the cozy armchair at work in my lamb wool zipped pullover and it is definitely keeping me warm enough right now. The temptation is not to fall asleep so that my colleagues won't find me with my mouth open and my head hanging over the back of the armchair tomorrow morning. Gosh.

 

I think I might call in sick tomorrow. Depending on the situation really. Or whether I can really give a fsck about what the ward is like tomorrow. Le sigh.

 

What I would really like to do is to be able to check out whether my dance videos on Facebook has loaded yet. Processing takes up so much bloody time. 

 

But until I get my laptop cable back...its hard to tell. 

 

Oh, I'm thinking of selling my laptop and getting a desktop. I actually find that since I don't lug my laptop around as much as I used to, a desktop might be a good idea. Maybe a small laptop for the times that I do go off somewhere and do something but for the meantime, a desktop seems to be pretty much the more sensible option. 

 

I don't think I'm actually blogging very effectively. All I seem to be doing is type down a few sentences and close my eyes in between. I think what I really need to do is get some sleep.

 

Or what I should be doing is my laundry right now.

 

Bleh.

 

I honestly cannot be fscked. Really.

 

Actually, screw this.

 

My brain is telling me to go to bed. I cannot be bothered to type out any of the theories that I've come up with lately. My last rant was the fact that the other couples who won the showcase events cheated because they were either instructors/near instructor level or they did something completely different and claimed it for a good cause. MEH.

 

I went for a 20 min ish run today because the Redhead's bike was at home and it would have been more convenient to bike back to the studio rather than walk back. Then, I forgot my watch and biked back there again.

 

And now, I forget my laptop cable. Honestly. Someone is trying to screw with me. But then again, I've heard that paranoia can arise from sleep deprivation. Not that I've been deprived per se.

 

Texted the Sociologist today with the message, "I'm not too sure what I want to do with my life aye."

 

Which is true, to an extent.

 

Apparently, we all have a purpose. Or so we're told or led to believe. And perhaps, finding that purpose gives us satisfaction, a joy and a peace of mind. To know that because you're doing that purpose, you are happy. And fulfilled. Or so we're told or led to believe.

 

So what does my life consist of? Literally?

 

Work. Dance. Trying to keep fit. Tofupuff. Family. Internet. Eat. Sleep.

 

Lather, rinse, repeat as necessary.

 

Oh my dear gracious me. Is this what I'm destined to do?

 

Stacie Orrico's song, There's Gotta Be More, comes to my addled mind at the moment.

 

There's gotta be more. Honestly. What am I missing?

 

Ther'es only so much dancing you can do before you wear your shoes out. What next? More lessons? More shoes? More outfits? More bits and pieces? More practice sessions? More everything?

 

Oh fsck me. I'm going home.