On the subject of me.
Jesus Jumpin' Christ on a pogo-stick, I am fucking tired.
Ingredients for feeling like you are Alex from A Clockwork Orange in the experimental chair with your eyes clamped open while all the horrors of the world flash in front of you:
1. Work 40 hours a week in a job you have no real zest for. Yes, it pays the bills and isn't too difficult, but still, not the career path you wish to pursue any further.
2. Go back to school after 18 years. Since you made a complete mockery of your first go-round and only have two classes that will transfer, you must begin from square one. Take nine hours and let the slowly increasing workload crush you, much like a frog sitting in a pot as it comes to boil.
3. In the middle of these time-consuming endeavors, buy a place and move. Spend the next two weeks driving small loads of your accumulated crap to the new abode, taking bulk items to Goodwill or the city dump, and cleaning up the old house in the vain hope that you will see some of your deposit back. All while not neglecting your homework and class load. No problem.
4. Average six hours of sleep a night maximum, with frequent interruptions due to cats in the midst of stress adjustment to a new environment who like to crap on the brand new carpet. A lot.
5. Spend every free moment doing homework, thus neglecting the unpacking of your new home. This leaves boxes piled everywhere and shit hiding in places where you can't find it when you need it.
In short, I have done this to myself. Still doesn't change the fact that I am so very goddamn tired all the time.
More later on the state of whiny college kids who complain about problems that have absolutely zero basis in a real world scenario. And forced assimilation into class group work by teachers. And the sheer volume of students who don't bother to make an effort to keep up with the work load or the basics of the class syllabus. Mind boggling, that. You could have saved your several hundred bucks and bought some crack instead, for all the good this semester will do you. Douche bags.
God damn I am tired. Fuck off. Only four or five more years of this. Hindsight is precious.
Ingredients for feeling like you are Alex from A Clockwork Orange in the experimental chair with your eyes clamped open while all the horrors of the world flash in front of you:
1. Work 40 hours a week in a job you have no real zest for. Yes, it pays the bills and isn't too difficult, but still, not the career path you wish to pursue any further.
2. Go back to school after 18 years. Since you made a complete mockery of your first go-round and only have two classes that will transfer, you must begin from square one. Take nine hours and let the slowly increasing workload crush you, much like a frog sitting in a pot as it comes to boil.
3. In the middle of these time-consuming endeavors, buy a place and move. Spend the next two weeks driving small loads of your accumulated crap to the new abode, taking bulk items to Goodwill or the city dump, and cleaning up the old house in the vain hope that you will see some of your deposit back. All while not neglecting your homework and class load. No problem.
4. Average six hours of sleep a night maximum, with frequent interruptions due to cats in the midst of stress adjustment to a new environment who like to crap on the brand new carpet. A lot.
5. Spend every free moment doing homework, thus neglecting the unpacking of your new home. This leaves boxes piled everywhere and shit hiding in places where you can't find it when you need it.
In short, I have done this to myself. Still doesn't change the fact that I am so very goddamn tired all the time.
More later on the state of whiny college kids who complain about problems that have absolutely zero basis in a real world scenario. And forced assimilation into class group work by teachers. And the sheer volume of students who don't bother to make an effort to keep up with the work load or the basics of the class syllabus. Mind boggling, that. You could have saved your several hundred bucks and bought some crack instead, for all the good this semester will do you. Douche bags.
God damn I am tired. Fuck off. Only four or five more years of this. Hindsight is precious.