土撥鼠的天

Marmots are groundhogs.

Groundhog Day was a very funny movie about a guy (Bill Murray) who gets trapped in the same day over and over again.

I feel like that a lot of the time.

Wake up.

Take all my medication for the asthma and allergies I have from living here.

Eat breakfast.

Go to my office, or, lately, stay home and work there.

Eat lunch; cook (the same stuff) or eat (the same stuff) while watching a DVD.

Go home.

Cook (the same) dinner.

Watch a DVD. Or two.

Take a shower.

Go to bed wearing that idiotic contraption for sleep apnea. That I have from living here.

Repeat as necessary.

I don't think my life sucks. It's just easy sometimes to start feeling a bit surreal when you have five days that are exactly the same, and you not only forget what day it is but you can't even convince yourself that its important to know, since tomorrow you'll be doing the same f@#$ing thing again anyway...

I just don't care for how repetitive my life is, or at least I don't like the things I'm repeating. Even though I don't feel this way, I can see my life as pretty pathetic when viewed from the outside:

Eat. Work. Eat. Work. Eat. Watch TV. Sleep.

It would  be nice, just once (I'd accept more than once, but let me not jinx myself) to have something like thiswithin my realm of existence:

"まだ残しなさい。 さもなければ、耐え難いほどの苦痛…" Not in any prurient way at all, I promise.

It's just been a while since any woman but my dentist has gotten that close to me, and Hong Kong being a former British colony, it's not like she spends much time there...

Bright colors and gaudy patterns don't figure heavily in my life these days, much less women dressed thusly. And certainly not women dressed like that being that close to me and seemingly happy to be there.

I'm not whining about singleness (it's kind of nice to always pick the movie I will watch), I mean it more in a conceptual way. The kind of silly, laughing fun that photo implies is a complete f@#$ing mystery to me at this point in my life and I resent it.

But so what?

I have work to do, and until it gets done, I am the marmot's b*tch.

Besides, if I am lucky, I may actually get to meet the woman in that picture. I might print that photo and ask her to sign it.

I'd even let her curl my eyelashes.

No, that's nota euphemism.