Thursday, April 29, 2004

One needn't be a prophet to realize that I shall die young of a stress related disorder. If today is any indication, it will likely be high blood pressure.

Good Lord, I'm so frustrated today I think my head could explode. Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. Mind you, it's not been disastrous. For instance, I spent over half an hour printing out eleven copies of my damn paper for 598. This was problematic because I only had fourty minutes to print the fucker in. It got done; it was fine. But damnit, the blood pressure in the mean time!

I don't want to go through the minutae. But it's safe to describe me as freaking out. I can't sit still; I can't think straight; I can't do goddamn anything. I can't relax and I can't concentrate enough to be active.

In a few short months, I'll be a college graduate and this insanity will draw to a close. Inevitably, a new insanity will replace the current one; and, indeed, there's a certain sadness in losing the devil I've come to know so well. But I'm crying out for fresher stressors.