“Brand New Colony” by The Postal Service… I’ll be the platform shoes and undo what heredity’s done to you: you won’t have to strain to look into my eyes. I’ll be your winter coat buttoned and zipped straight to the throat, with the collar up so you won’t catch a cold…”

Stretching out my wings in the sunshine, I think to myself, “So this is what it’s like to be free.” Okay, that didn’t really happen but this paints an accurate allegory of how I’m feeling right now. For the last few days I’d been spending the whole day trying to complete my assignment before the deadline that fell at noon today. During that time I was pretty much constantly glued to the computer screen, so much so that I felt I was slowly devolving into a monkey complete with arched back. I think to become a good programmer, you have to have certain simian attributes. But in the randomness of the world, even primates can hit the right keys in the right order, right? Which reminds me; I have to shave off the facial hair I have amossed during my short stint as a hermit before people start handing me bananas in the street, out of fear. Mmmm, bananas.

Yes! Yes! Yes! At last, I’m free from the psuedo house-arrest that my assessment put me under. I sound very happy but I’m not overly ecstatic. It’s one down and more to go. I love the challenge that programming brings me and am all too aware that I get like a cricketer that just hit a 6 when I manage to work out the correct code for something to make it work. Does that make me a geek? Sure, but let me add that I also like to drive monster trucks, shoot pool and benchpress nerds. Grrrr! ^_^

I had a week to do the assessment but didn’t make a start on it till about Thursday, which gives you a good clue about where procrastination is hanging out nowadays. I just can’t seem to get into the swing of things until the deadline draws near. It’s only when the deadline comes knocking on my door that the cogs are set into motion in my head. I need the pressure. In fact, I think I work best under pressure. Put that on my resumé.

So now it’s going to be fairly relaxed till Wednesday when I commute to hopefully sunny Brighton for my 3 day seminar. It’s still summer, it’s still sunny and it’s still hot but I doubt the beaches will be packed as amply as they were a month ago. This is good news for me because being held in traffic queues is not my idea of a swell time. The only thing that has a swell time is my head, literally. The other thing that seems to be swelling with the heat is my stomach, though this is not a direct byproduct of the heat. Usually the heat makes me thirsty and lose all interest in eating, but for some reason this year it’s made me even more thirsty and even more hungry. It doesn’t help that mum keeps cooking enough food for everyone in the house and that coupled with the fact that everyone else in the hosuehold has lost their appetite due to tropical temperatures. Food goes off quicker, so it means I have to eat more than my fair share of the food to stop the food going to waste. Mum says I’m still a growing boy. Mum, I don’t want to grow sideways.

But it’s official, the world is getting obese. I pinch my love handles in defiance because the announcement last week in Newsweek magazine couldn’t have come at a better time. It reports that in the past decade obesity rates have shot up by 50 percent! In concordence with international figures, the meter on my weighing scales seems to have discovered a new found ambition in making a full revolution. To think that if I continue putting on weight, I’ll soon be able to smuggle food into foreign countries inside the folds of my stomach. Or perhaps even smuggle foreign countries inside the folds of my stomach. I’m going to definitely start running again from this weekend to try to send some of the adipose packing to a far off destination (or failing that, preferably far enough from the belly area). I’m sure everyone can empathise with me when I say it feels like I have to work harder than everyone else to shift the darned lipid distribution. The fat around my navel area is frustratingly unyielding and will continue to hold onto me like a spasmodic saprophyte clinging onto its juicy host. Enjoy the warmth while it lasts. You’re leaving soon.

Something I’ve always noticed but haven’t been able to explain to this day is the lint that accumulates around the nose-piece on my glasses. If the glasses aren’t cleaned for some time, it accumulates on the plastic where the nosepiece is screwed onto the frame and collects as only one colour: green. It’s lint-like in consistency but dark green like a soiled Snooker table cloth. It’s not just me either, because I’ve observed this colouration on all the bespectacled people I’ve come across. So why is it green and not black or grey or any other colour? And no, it’s not because of bogeys because the nosepiece doesn’t go there.

Lastly, yesterday I spotted a familiar looking car parked outside my house. If I had an unreal and extreme case of colour-blindness I might have even tried getting into that car. I may have tried my key in its door under the dim light of night, because it was the exact same car I drive, but in red! A tiny detail, but it was reason enough to be memorable since I don’t see many people on the streets driving the same model. It’s not everyday you see someone else with a Ferrari (I wish)!

Now I’m off to buy ice cream and will be selecting my most breathable attire for the trip. I don’t want to turn into the creepy guy in the supermarket with the dark underarm stains who seemingly lives on ice cream alone, though that time may come soon. Thomas Edison once said “Genius is one percent inspiration, ninety-nine percent perspiration.” If that’s true, then I could be turning into a genius, because I’m sweating like a hot dog.