let me divulge more into my life at terminal 3 the time before i left. before the first time i left. it was great. everyday setting off for work an hour and a half earlier and reaching there just in time to get a can of red bull and sit outside waiting for the rest of the guys who'll be coming at 4pm to 12mn. after timing in and slightly protesting to the stations issued to what you were given, you gladly or reluctantly proceed on to where you wanna be. after a while, when it's not busy, you find yourself slowly drawing closer to any dustbin of which you can sit your ass on for just a few minutes and after a while, you find that you've just spent half an hour sitting on a now slightly broken dustbin and standing up to find that you've been sitting on a brown dirt stain for the past half hour. you pull up your pants, wonder what you're gonna do for the next 6 hours. you gather your stuff, get on ready for your break and then you're back again, finding out what to do now. you start talking among your customers or among your colleagues as what usually happens in all working environments. time is passing away slowly. but hold on, as just before you're about to sit back on the dustbin, more people are starting to flow into the restaurant. one hour has then passed. you find yourself running around madly, or if you're the barista, you find yourself juggling both the ice-blenders and cocktail shakers while busy steaming a whole pot of milk for the ten hot lattes you have infront of you. you've been through this before. and what's worse is that you're the only one right now. maybe a while later, someone may happily burst into the bar and help you. okay, sometimes it has already been pre-determined who will step in. and you relish the fact that you've got some help there. but sometimes you feel this great sense of accomplishment when you've successfully completed a, what is known in the industry as, a 'slam'. colloquially it's known among some circles as a 'solo slam' or 'private slam'. every time you hear a new order coming in, you feel this invigorating sense of adrenaline. it runs through your whole body, and you're set. after 3 hours, you're done. your bar looks a little less dirty than it had been before you started. you're low on your resources at the moment. you'd better start topping up your mis-en-place and other bar related stuff for the next shift. once that's done, you're ready to go home. oh no wait, you just found out you're way past the 12mn. okay, time out, have a nice rest waiting for the taxi to bring you back to your bed. you tell yourself, another great day.

wonderful times i had. thinking about it now, it would never happen. or at the very least, it will never happen the same way. i did feel some sentimental affliction to my previous workplace but it was never seriously the place itself. the location may have been great. but there's always that x-factor thing about something that, you just can't put a finger on, but you know you just love it.

i'm probably gonna be working there non-stop for the holidays. a few breaks here and there. but i don't know whether i will continue to work when school starts. my training regime would have started by then. i'm already 5 weeks into my recovery phase. still a little hurting but not at the same place now. i'm starting to still feel that feeling of worry, and a little bit of weary. i just have to be patient with it now and at least my work now doesn't require my to do any hard impact work.

and talking about work, i've gotta catch some shut-eye. not of course, finishing the "V for Vendetta" comic that i've finally gotten my hands on.