from the balcony to the LDP.

Back. And ready to roll; drama practice, CF Easter sketch, whole CF Easter event, debate auditions, public speaking preperations, JYM Easter Party mime, worship songlist, worship practice, class photoshoot.
I'm pumped, are you pumped?!

Okay, fine. I'm not. I haven't recovered. Yet.
I can walk without limping now, and I'm not coughing as much as I did on Saturday evening. The fever's gone down quite a lot and I've reduced my Pandol intake to four a day. The nauseousness is wearing off as well.
And I've been stretching my vocal range to sing as many songs as I can on two octaves. :)
But I still have this strange feeling of hallucination, like I'm walking on a floor of fluffy clouds, or like my head is being supported by a cotton-candy-filled head rest, or like my fingers are pressing into jelly instead of alphabetical keys. It's just weird.

But I suppose it's understandable judging from the amount of medicine I'm consuming. I mean, seven Panadols a day isn't very little. Don't worry, the doctor put a stop to that. But then he also gave me three other types of medication, including the much-dreaded huge-giant-obese-mutated-X-men-version-of-a-cockroach-sized antibiotic pills. *shudders.*

When I was a little girl, I still remember getting bottles full of funny-tasting pink "Aunty Biotic" medicine. Then, as I grew older, the doctors started giving me bottles of white instead of pink, even though they still refered to it as "Aunty Biotic". When I turned eight, I was presented with a number of enormous pills they still called "Aunty Biotic". But by then I'd figured that "Aunty Biotic" was really just a funky name that my parents had created to make my medication seem more interesting.
Either way, the pills don't get bigger than that.

Cockroaches. That's what they remind me of. Cockroach. We should so use that script again. X) Because a) I like it, b) I wrote it and c) oh, the memories it brings back! Hahahaha. Scripts. I feel like writing another five-minute, nonsensical one. :)

But no. Skipping two days of school = a lot of math homework. =.=" And missing the mock debate. And missing sketch practice.
Oh well. I have the rest of the week to get back on track.

Oh noes. Mass on Good Friday is at 4.30.
"Relax, I've got it all taken care of. :) The last thing you should do now is worry."
And then you come to me on Sunday morning running your fingers through your hair with that agitated look on your face saying "How now?!"
But I digress.

I want change. Obama? No. But change.
I've had it with all our depressing Friday nights where we stay on the phone until three in the morning even though we've seen each other hours earlier. I've had it with listening to an angonizing depressed nut complain about how useless he feels.
Was it any different, last Sunday? I'll be calling as soon as I can get through a sentence without coughing. ;)

My dad is spamming my inbox with hospitality ministry (a.k.a. church warden) emails. Cekap, weih. We should take a leaf out of his book. XD Just like he did with us when he set up a blog specially dedicated to the wardens of SIC.

Run baby, run.