"If he had not heard a story for Monday, he made one up, and said that he had heard it, so that one thing led to another and by Friday he was either in trouble or the hero, nothing in between. By Sunday he was resting, and the story seemed like a fine reminiscence, wine-like in its flavour. "
- Alberto Alvaro Rios, from the short story Spiced Plums

I seem to be quoting excessively over the past couple of blog entries because there is beauty in the breakdown (Frou Frou, Let Go) everywhere else. See, there I go again.
It is a bit difficult to find my own words. I'll restart.
I started my second job today. I knew it was going to be somewhat trying when I worked on saving and deleting reviews on books like The History of the Lambda Tree and A Concise Review of Calculus. I have, happily, also been assigned articles to write, although this mainly consists of researching biotechnological developments, which is definitely one of the subjects about which I know the least in the world. But the pantry is painted orange and the toliets are marked MARS (male) and VENUS (female). Who wouldn't love that sense of humour?
It was depressing having to quit my job at the Serene Centre bookshop, where I did botch up a sizeable number of receipts but had customers I could talk to with genuine interest - I succeeded in conning a little boy into buying A Little Prince, which he may or may not like, and did nothing to discourage a couple from buying Archie comics for their very small son based on the flimsy reason that there were "lots of pictures". I could grow to love that place. But that'll have to wait.
I'll meet Alfie tomorrow.
On Monday I was hanging around Ghim Moh and Holland V with Mel and Han, areas conspicuously void of RJ students, and I was unexpectedly outraged when I saw the alien NUS High sign. "An abomination!" I shouted, shaking a fist, while Mel's dad, mum and sister gave me hairy-eyeballed looks. Why exactly is it? I have no idea. But it's painfully obvious that I'll never be able to go back now.