Speak of actions, not of grandiose plans.

Bel is resilient!
She fought off a fever on Friday with just A pill, and fighting off cough and flu over the weekend and now. That didn’t stop her from running with the (expanded from just Rod & I) climbers on Monday to MBS!



Although she felt breathless at times and have to take conscious deep breaths as if every breath was her last and felt listless at school. 7/10 for Psych today and surfing the net in class is not being her usual  self. Neither is skiving at tuition nor responding coldly to the otherwise jubilant Juniper. Could it be attributed to this malady or being overworked? 3 students, gym work, OCSP (finally got myself into one!) meetings, climbing has taken most, if not all of my weekday nights. I’m falling behind my agreed meets with breyon (to climb), parfait IMG-20130123-WA0002 follow-up meeting, etc… I must admit I haven’t been eating nutritiously either…

IMG-20130122-WA0001, apple & banana peanut butter wrap on Monday before the run. That’s the boon of having afternoon class—the luxury of time to prepare food for school. I can draw a pie chart of the amount of time I’m spending on meals, sleep, study, leisure and work.

Activity No. of hours spent a day
Study (when I actually sit myself down) 0-2
Exercise (Climb, Run, Gym) 2-3
Work (Tuition, Gym) 2-5
Meal preparation 2
Commuting 2
Sleep 7

I need more protein.

Strangely, I’ve been having running conversations lately. Been receiving invites to run together. Would love to, except time is my determinant.

Sorry for the lack of update. I can personally vouch how much viewership play a part in giving me a reason to blog. recall the times back in the holidays when I posted almost every other day with my 24/7 on the ball Adel.

After asking my parents daily if there was any mail delivered to me, i was elated to finally receive my letter in the mail from K today.Etsy.com handmade and vintage goods

“Please Mr. Postman, look and see, is there a letter in your bag for me?” I remember so well the joy of finding a flimsy airmail envelope in a stack of boring mail. I would carefully tear it open to read words from friends who had been silent for weeks while they were off adventuring around the country or around the world. I loved the frequent postcards from my mother who was always able to find an image that would inspire or amuse me. Sometimes, the letters seemed to fall out of the blue –“Remember me?” they would begin. Once, I even received an apology from the man who had broken my heart over twenty years before. Of course, I forgave him and saved the letter.


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