I've been fighting my flight mechanism all day. I'm so stressed out that I just feel like I'll never get on top of things. Everyone at work is asking me stoopid questions or give me extra things to do. My boss suddenly wants to start using some computer software that is on another computer. At least he's finally getting interested in the stuff, but When he grabs a whole box of software and brings it up to his office my internal alarm bells start ringing.
I agreed to install a small exhibition about the 25th anniversary of a local music award program. I realize now that I have ABSOLUTELY NO TIME for it. But I can hardly bail out on it.
One class in my hated masters program is dragging and I'll be starting another class in a week and a half. It will be the first time I've had two classes at once. Oh boy.
We're throwing our annual "Freedom Party" this weekend, and I have no time to put anything together. It'll just have to be Dean's dip and Saudi conspiracy theories. (Sorry, inside joke that I'll try to explain at a later date. Stay tuned faithful readers. Yeah right.)
And then my personal life has made me a wreck. I'm waking up in the morning imagining my brutal death and looking forward to it. Okay, it's not that dramatic, but when I get like this I lay in bed and imagine someone caving in the back of my skull with a large rock. Somehow I think it's unhealthy to have these vision, but I can't imagine why.
But the good news is that I saw Bettie Serveert again last night. Oh. My. God. They are so fucking great. It makes me feel like I'm twenty years old again. I think I might prefer to see them to even Blur. And that's blasphemy in my circle of friends. The only thing that would've been better is if Ms. stu had been there too. She was too tired to go. So I went by myself. That happens more and more lately.
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