Courtesy Of Mashed Potato

Seriously, the title has nothing to do with the content of this blog post.

Here I am, sliding my eyeballs left to right and blink my eyelids once every moment whenever I feel like it with an over-riped apple sitting quietly ( I can sense his anger of not eating him and attempt to gain my attention by fermenting a fragrant over-riped apple scent in the air, not unpleasant anyway compared to human-odored clothes and experience of throwing plastic bag stuffed full of black blossomed banana skins and half filled Maggi cups with seasoning and oil droplets flapping on the surface of the mixture) by my desk.He's obedient, never quack a complain, just squat silently with his buttock literally touch the desk surface and gleam with a healthy red+yellow+brown reflection.

Tranquil.

I may dump all my papers and notes into a few piles, imagining soldiers in WWII seeking for strategic ground both for hiding and counter the attack; I may throw plastics bags upside down and try to float them in the air, as if parachutes from the reinforcement team; I may fold my clothes not-so-neatly and arrange them from light to dark and turn it over and over again in my wardrobe; I may refill my stainless steel cup with RO water from the machine and stir it together with the leftovers of cereal (as I just drank my Quacker's Cereal) and down it gulp...

Yes, I may.

Now I am typing blocks of words and arrange them in such a sequence that they possess meanings and give messages to the readers yet at the same time doesn't confuse the readers for words are brilliantly and individually outstanding and they interlink when comes to presentation of a massive project to the audience as in the receivers. Don't get in?

Words are important. Especially to your presumably attentive listeners.

Anyway, the one and only audience is my beloved lecturer. And I haven't start my revision YET.

I am mashed.