i'm at, wherelse, the gym. yes, addict na ako sa gym. with everything that's going on in my life (not just THAT, there were a lot going on. okay, there's THAT but i really would hate to rationalize my feelings right now for anything anymore, or anyone anymore for that matter. it just feels like a very moot point, if anything can be more moot than being moot itself.) endorphins keep me interestingly sane. i have gottne a personal trainer, lawrence, who despite his quirky lisp and hawaiian/pineapple inspired hairdo (no, lawrence, you do not look like you're japanese. okay. japanese a generation after the hiroshima bombing or some japanese guy who'd been out in the sun a bit too much. actually you look more like a hawaiian surfer dude.) manages to keep me motivated in the middle of excruciating pain. yes, i've hired a personal tormentor. that's how addicted i am to the gym.
why the title? hell, should i care! no one really reads this now that i've changed my URL. it doesn't even matter now if i write anything cohesive or senseless or truthful for that matter, since no one will ever get to read this. maybe by some 1:100,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 chance that you're doing a random blog search on blogger and the next blog happens to be this one.
hell. no. you shouldn't even be reading this.