Three minutes past Friday

My eyes are unbelievably sore and
I.am.so.tired.

I said my goodnights nearly an hour ago, and yet, I'm still sitting in front of Kirsten.
Actually, honestly,
I had work to do. Kid you not.

Well, I have work to do.
Except,
I settled down for a good read, albeit online. Haven't done that in a while.


But yes, still fully aware of work that is due. And how I should, most definitely, get that sorted.
Soon.
I need it done by tomorrow morn.


God.
I am tired.


So talk about my most recent trip (which oddly enough feels both recent and far away at the same time) got me thinking about the whole getting away thing.
The swelling on my face hasn't even gone down yet. wow whee!

But yes,
getting away for a bit.

A couple of my best friends have booked their tickets to Bangkok, and I was supposed to go with. Except, what with work and all.
Then I'm looking at going later/coming back earlier. something. I don't know.
But then, that's just it.
I don't know.

I miss Bird. And I'm incredibly tempted to hop on to a weekend flight just to see her.
I feel more likely to do that than Bangkok.
Odd isn't it?


My Fridays, they always leave me reeling.
And mostly, I'm not even aware that it's the weekend. The weekends sort of just feel like an extention of my week, and I'm often left a bit dazed.
By the time it's properly sunk in that it's the weekend, it's a Sunday afternoon and my Monday's dressed and waiting for me.

I love what I do.
I do, with every bit of me.


But then, half way through my second school, my fourth class of the day,
right in the middle of class, I tasted my frikkin' throat in my mouth. It's this Godawful taste of (quite literally) my throat wearing itself out.
Then you might say,
"Well that makes you a terrible drama trainer doesn't it, if you're SO all about voice projection and such!"
But there's voice projection, and there's, being at a constant and consistently loud volume, all.the.time. And it scared me, for a bit, that funky taste in my mouth.
It's not a first.

And ugh, my throat hurts.
And I, am just a little bit,
y'know,
tired.
Just a little bit.

Physically, that is.
And we can always fix physical. And I wish I weren't so tired, especially when it doesn't feel like I've been doing very much.
But oh well. I'd best suck it up, get over it, so I can sort the rest of my shit out.

Because I will do that.