22-Eleven

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

Eleven years ago, in the same neighbourhood as where I'm plonked at the moment, I wrote my first blog post. Snobster Dot Blogspot Dot Come was live on this date in 2007. On a rush to head to the tuition centre manned by a she-dragon, I was shitting bricks about the homework I should have done the night before. Today, I'm at work. Clearly, not doing the best job whilst being at it.

In these eleven years, I have jumped from red bricks to red salute, gained weight and lost some, contracted a few never heard of diseases for my age bracket (chickenpox at 26 was diggity bomb) and having done things no civil person should have indulged in, in public.

What I am saying is, there's no stopping. There's no growing up. There's only fucking things up royally and learning from there (no making out in public view- for one).

Last year, I promised myself to give my body and lifestyle the same amount of attention as I did to reading and writing for the ten years that elapsed. After dropping a few kilos (17, betch) and finding out that I possess a collarbone after all, I am here. Stuffing my face with sugar and celebrating this day.

Here's to another year of fucking this shit up and hoping there's one person who reads all about it and never brings it up to my face.


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