There are some days where I feel like speaking and writing in broken english and incomplete sentences; but yet there are some where I feel some sense of order and right to use the language as it is originally is necessary.

There are also some days where I feel like recounting the day's events in a gibberish garble and talking about nothing of importance whatsoever; but yet there are some where I feel cartharsis and reflection is what I need.

There are also days where I feel somewhat intelligent and some where I feel like I own an iota of this obscure thing called.. intelligence and might be just plain downright dumb.

There are some days where I feel like launching into a bitchy tirade about how stupid/annoying/aggravating some people are but there are some where I feel for all things wrong, the finger of blame ought to be upon me.

There are also some days where I feel like talking nonstop about all things frivolous like clothes and people and boys and hair but some days where I feel discussing law (harhar!) and religion and relationships and friendships.

There are some days I feel like roaring and yakking in a loud obstrusive voice but some days I feel like talking softly and sweetly.

There are also some days where I feel like rolling in the mud and playing some kickass sport but some days where I prefer to sit in a salon and get my hair done while poring through a chick magazine.

And on days like these, like today, it makes me wonder what exactly am I.