The Finger
After the overwhelming rush of the election coverage at ABS-CBN (read: graveyard shifts), I'm now wrapping the last few weeks of summer. Looking back, I've done so much, and that's well and fine, but so many times I feel that I'm neglecting something and I'm unable to get over that. Whether on purpose or otherwise, I have to do something about it, soon. Like, my finger.
Call me unhygienic, but almost a week after Election Day, the index finger on my right hand is still stained with indelible ink. No, I am not aiming to eternally preserve this souvenir of proof of my first-ever election (I'm not that nutty), but I really don't care if a part of my body containing dead skin cells encompassing less than a centimeter in area is dirty.
As long as it signifies something valuable to me (i.e. proof of my right of suffrage),--and even if others beg to differ--then I'm not really in a rush to get rid of it.
Which I guess is clearly my problem.
Call me unhygienic, but almost a week after Election Day, the index finger on my right hand is still stained with indelible ink. No, I am not aiming to eternally preserve this souvenir of proof of my first-ever election (I'm not that nutty), but I really don't care if a part of my body containing dead skin cells encompassing less than a centimeter in area is dirty.
As long as it signifies something valuable to me (i.e. proof of my right of suffrage),--and even if others beg to differ--then I'm not really in a rush to get rid of it.
Which I guess is clearly my problem.