The post-work peace.

It's 3:30 am (or was, anyway, when I wrote this, except my stupid phone refused to publish the post). The stars are beautiful tonight. I just finished a bunch (or whatever it's called) of work, and I have three days until the next bunch of work begins.

I've decided I like having nailpolish on my toenails. 

I've also decided that I like long, long-due showers.

Goodnight stars.

~Sam

Sleeping Beauty

Sometimes you wake up and you just know that you've been asleep for long-longer than you'd imagined, longer than you'd wanted. When I opened my eyes, it felt like aeons had passed.

In a little while, I was to find that they had.



-----
I feel like writing a story. That bit up there came to me after I overslept this afternoon. I think I'd like to continue it, but I don't know where it's going and I don't know if work and my general propensity for caprice and laziness will let me keep it up. The last story I thought of-in 5th grade-is still festering in my head. But maybe revisiting Sleeping Beauty will interest me more than some kiddy story about perfect-girl-turns-princess-marries-hot-guy.


~Sam

It's a brand new day.

And lord, if the sun isn't shining.

I love Sundays. =D
Especially when I've had a god-blessed 9 hours of sleep, after a week of near-night-outs.
NINE!
HOURS!
SLEEP!
This is what heaven is. A full night in bed. Almost-finished work. And a clean room. God, I feel so accomplished.

~Sam

Yes, that was all I had to say. Laters, babies! =D
[If you got that reference: I feel for you.]

What we did before our exams.

So Sam and I used to text most ALL the time, irrespective of whether we had the same exam day after or not.
We ended up writing poems/songs a couple of times.
For your amusement, may I present...

January 22nd, 2012, 10:17 p.m.
Me:
It's the night before my commerce exam,
and I sit there staring,
 at a page that I've been staring at for the past hour or so.
The clock keeps ticking, and I keep dreaming,
my concentration is dropping low.


And I am certain that there's something behind the curtain,
no there isn't, I'm just trying to pass my tiiiiime.
Please please please, I don't want to study anymore,
my head belongs on my pillow,
Please make it go away.


I'm writing this song the day before my test,
My oh my I'm such a shameless wreck,
because even with an exam tomorrow I don't feel guilty...


but please please please make it go away!
The torture seems to be here to stay,
but please make it go away. 

January 24th, 2012, 11:20 p.m.
Sam: 
My eyes are glazed over, the words don't make any sense.
To my life, my grades tomorrow don't make any difference.
My concentration's dropping lower, my body's less tense,
so why oh why am i not asleep yet like my oblivious parents?


Me:
I probably should be worried, that I'm not getting tensed.
I'm in a hopeless situation, an unshocking revelation.
It happens all the time.
And even though I'm wasting my time in this songs making,
I know I'll do just fine, I think.


Sam:
Tired appear to be, my drooping eyes call out to sleep.
But I shut the book and lo, I'm suddenly lively as a brook!
To this feeling of despair, nothing else can compare,
nothing except, perhaps finding splits in my hair.


Me:
I'm just rambling now,even my words have gone.
So why oh why cant the textbook be gone too?


Oh this torture I cannot bear.
In a moments time, my hair I will tear.


See I get this feeling in the back of my brain,
telling me to study, but the front part is saying,
that I should text my buddy.


Sam:
And so I let my eyes glaze over, and let my speed become even slower.
I let the clock tick by as the time passes me by.
To the world  flick my finger and to my friend the singer,
I text, 
A Song.






From Sam: And this is why I don't write poetry.