I was tired last night. So tired in fact, that I fell asleep while watching a documentary about Elena Gala. Along with the TV, I switched off the control freak in me, and settled into bed. I hardly ever allow myself more than 8 hours of sleep. Of course the mobile rings the second I slip into a comfortable state of unconsciousness. Grunt, sigh, grunt, click. 30 seconds later I'm lying face up, then on my right, then left, up again. I can almost hear the minutes tiptoe past. I try to think about sheep, work, vacation, and what to wear to work the next day. And I'm filled with evil thoughts about the untimely caller. God damn it. More tossing, kicking at the quilt, plans to work overseas. I wake up this morning, still thinking evil thoughts. I snooze the alarm, steal someone else's 15 minutes - the very golden pulses stolen from me the night before. I brace myself for a busy day. One of linking cells to endless spreadsheets, snapping at the new girl, and looking forward to morning tea, then lunch, and idle mid-afternoon chats. I had agedashi tofu for lunch (I'm attempting a Eugenie-first: carb-free lunch). There were no bonito flakes in sight, and to make matters worse, the dish was garnished with capsicum, button mushrooms, and a starchy sauce (squirm now). I flogged half of it off to my vegetarian lunchmate, and had 2 cigarettes instead. We talked about plans and fulfilling hopes, about travelling, buying land, and making money. I am beginning to feel an urgent need to whip up a goal. Something short-term, something to look forward to, work towards, feel excited about, save money for, make come true. I need to get off my inertia-ed arse and make semi grownup plans. I need to find what I want for myself, and make it happen. I've never craved for much - because things always seemed to just fall into place. Or I somehow stumbled into the right spot. I need to feel passionate enough about something. Enough that it hurts if I can't have it. New York. It certainly felt right. Walking down Fifth Ave alone, in my pink Kid Robot T shirt and big earrings, I remember thinking that I hadn't been this happy (that Alex, was plenary happiness) in a long time. I am rarely happy when alone. Content maybe, but seldom skippy-lala happy. I don't care that I'll not be able to afford a car (I could probably afford the car, but not the parking fees, nor the patience). I could forsake the fortnightly shopping and live with a monthly H&M spree. Live away from home? That I'm not sure. I don't know how I did it when I first left Singapore for Melbourne. I was so unafraid, so sublimely ignorant. Having endured the lonliness, occasional helplessness, not to mention the dusty carpets, I find it hard to marshal enough courage to do it all over again. I know it's what I'll be thinking about in bed tonight.