A virtual layer of dust has descended on my blog.
Time has proven not to always be medication for the heartbroken.
For sometimes, the bitterness of it lingers.
Thursdays are for now labelled as "Chron Thursdays" - where ideas are thrown around in a room full of potential journalists from 5.30 - 7.30pm at the WKWSCI. I have not quite decide if I'm totally sold, but emotionally, I'm very taken by Chron.
This big get-together, which i term as "work" normally ends as we make a decision to have an EPIC dinner somewhere.
Ikea was our choice this week, meatball, broccoli (drenched in meatball sauce), chicken wings and quotable statements.
Life can be so simple sometimes. Or so I thought.
On the way back to hall a sense of helplessness hovered as I chance upon "the-toad-that-looks-me-in-the-eye".
Its mind was set on staying in the middle of the pavement, I turned and fled.
If the speed I ran was kept consistent (with 2.4km of running track before me) I would have broken some kinda runner's record.
Just as I thought I got on safe ground, a wild boar was spotted. WILD BOAR WILD BOAR.
It was huge, black and furry. So no where is truly safe except my my room I guess.
And so here I sit, traumatised, my fingers typing profusely like words will bring the shock away.
Well, maybe.
