I was utterly amused when I entered my room yesterday evening. Apparently, my roommates were candid enough to make a “doll” utilizing what we’ve got offshore.

Frankly, I think the guys were creative. In fact, they were quite expressive with their presentation – pronounced boob, the black stocking, and the inevitable fantasized genital. All too astounding not to give them a perfect score for creating this masterpiece.

And the surprising thing is there weren’t any snores throughout the night yesterday. Perhaps the doll is charmed? đŸ˜‰

Note: Forgive me if you find this offensive. It’s just too good not to put it up here. For me, it is a reflection of what lies deep down inside of you. The guys probably didn’t realise their “artwork” is also a mirror of their hormones unleashed. Hee…

passionate is he

I could see his eyes glistened and an elusive smile appeared shyly as he spoke of his experiences and adventures enthusiastically. There was excitement in stories he churned out so openly, and expressively too. My mind started to sketch the outline of the stories fervently with whatever imagination power it could muster.

It has been a long while since I met someone who could speak of his job with a passion fueled only by unceasing levels of confidence, faith, energy and eloquence.

Then I realised I couldn’t say the same for what I’m doing – I would never have and probably never could grow the equivalent amount of zeal and the love this job so requires without drowning myself in it. It was an epiphany I wasn’t anticipating. But this certainly perked me up and showed me what I am not; it helped me redefined what I am to do.

The path is clear – the clouds which shrouded my vision finally gave in. My eyes sparkled with the comforting light. Delighted.