Month 1

Month 1, Day 30. I wonder how much remedial calculus I can get done before my shift starts. But first I'm going to jack a milk carton for storing my books in the car. Locker's running out of space.
No more Alam Damai detours. 14 km of death by traffic lights ain't much better than a jam on the highway.

The algebra of gossip: "we used to be best friends, then something happened, then something else happened, and now we don't talk anymore."

Late night laundry cycle. Need to grab some some shuteye before an 11am meeting with the subway killers and then the 3pm shift. Bring it, Sunday. #onlyHappyWhenItSlams

I look at holes in the wall. It's safer than looking at holes in your skull, and watching them look back at me. Evading captivity. #emoStory
I go to work six days a week. I leave every day after dozens of commercial interactions with other human beings, some prettier, some kinder, some familiar, some none of the above. My days are fairly predictable. My incentives to make violent changes are negligible. I have time for my hobbies. I get to feel like a normal person almost every day. Life is really good, for a little while. I feel blessed.

Wake up. Housekeeping. Go to work. Go home. Sleep like baby. I wonder how long I will tolerate this mindless luxury. :)

Mixed rice lady is kind to me. Gives freebies. I'm a RM1/day account. On the supply side, I get good value for 2% of daily wages.

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