I love my problems of late, they are so base and silly that they are refreshing. I am losing time and inclination to drone on about the random wheels turning and tinkering in my mind, at least for the time being. I am quite sure I will get back to it as soon as time manages to fit me in to its busy schedule, pun intended.
My current lists of problems include the fact that I have not managed to find any semblance of decent parking on Davis Road, that all of my creative concepts at Geo are being appreciated but are too bloody long and elaborate for me to complete on time and the fact that the overwhelming combination of Blue and Orange desks, walls and seats is clashing with my contact lenses.
A small ray of light presents itself in the form of packed lunches, there is an elusive beauty to a packed lunch from home. I haven’t gotten packed lunches since I was about eight and the fact that someone bothers to wrap up a sandwich for me in tin foil every day is unbearably cutesy…in a good way…in the best way possible actually. The fact that today that lunch just happened to be a ‘Teenda sandwich’ is obviously anti-climactic but I think I managed to laugh it off quite comfortably in the cafeteria.
Other problems include Bank accounts which need to be opened immediately and procuring my fuel allowance considering I am broke till June and I am notoriously bad at being broke, of which I suppose I ought to be extremely grateful.
Passage perdition of the day: ‘To be really happy and really safe, one ought to have at least two or three hobbies, and they must all be real. It is no use starting late in life to say: “I will take an interest in this or that.” Such an attempt only aggravates the strain of mental effort. A man may acquire great knowledge of topics unconnected with his daily work, and yet hardly get any benefit or relief. It is no use doing what you like; you have got to like what you do. Broadly speaking, human beings may be divided into three classes: those who are toiled to death, those who are worried to death and those who are bored to death’ by Churchill, I suppose this ought to make me feel better, here’s to hoping it will serve its purpose.
These prettily, probable problems allow me to focus my energies on a random comment by a random acquaintance in cyberspace who raised my hopes up by telling me he had procured for me, a soul mate. Even though I promptly lashed out at him by pointing out that the entire epistemology centering on the search for such an individual inherently rested on the search and that the find had to be walked upon by the two souls in question, who was I kidding. A soul mate courier service could definitely find a market in atleast one of my worlds. Turns out the fabled candidate in question -deemed appropriate because he was the King of babble to my alleged Queen -is gay. I hereby proclaim that the new corollary for ‘cruel’ is ‘straight’.
This all means that I can put my perpetually pending identity crisis, existential dilemma’s and randomized eugenics on hold and focus all my attentions on an un-opened bottle of coke sitting on the desk next to mine.
Which presents as an actual problem.
My current lists of problems include the fact that I have not managed to find any semblance of decent parking on Davis Road, that all of my creative concepts at Geo are being appreciated but are too bloody long and elaborate for me to complete on time and the fact that the overwhelming combination of Blue and Orange desks, walls and seats is clashing with my contact lenses.
A small ray of light presents itself in the form of packed lunches, there is an elusive beauty to a packed lunch from home. I haven’t gotten packed lunches since I was about eight and the fact that someone bothers to wrap up a sandwich for me in tin foil every day is unbearably cutesy…in a good way…in the best way possible actually. The fact that today that lunch just happened to be a ‘Teenda sandwich’ is obviously anti-climactic but I think I managed to laugh it off quite comfortably in the cafeteria.
Other problems include Bank accounts which need to be opened immediately and procuring my fuel allowance considering I am broke till June and I am notoriously bad at being broke, of which I suppose I ought to be extremely grateful.
Passage perdition of the day: ‘To be really happy and really safe, one ought to have at least two or three hobbies, and they must all be real. It is no use starting late in life to say: “I will take an interest in this or that.” Such an attempt only aggravates the strain of mental effort. A man may acquire great knowledge of topics unconnected with his daily work, and yet hardly get any benefit or relief. It is no use doing what you like; you have got to like what you do. Broadly speaking, human beings may be divided into three classes: those who are toiled to death, those who are worried to death and those who are bored to death’ by Churchill, I suppose this ought to make me feel better, here’s to hoping it will serve its purpose.
These prettily, probable problems allow me to focus my energies on a random comment by a random acquaintance in cyberspace who raised my hopes up by telling me he had procured for me, a soul mate. Even though I promptly lashed out at him by pointing out that the entire epistemology centering on the search for such an individual inherently rested on the search and that the find had to be walked upon by the two souls in question, who was I kidding. A soul mate courier service could definitely find a market in atleast one of my worlds. Turns out the fabled candidate in question -deemed appropriate because he was the King of babble to my alleged Queen -is gay. I hereby proclaim that the new corollary for ‘cruel’ is ‘straight’.
This all means that I can put my perpetually pending identity crisis, existential dilemma’s and randomized eugenics on hold and focus all my attentions on an un-opened bottle of coke sitting on the desk next to mine.
Which presents as an actual problem.
Arre waah...packed lunches,it's been ages since i had my last one.Dylan fan would be putting it lightly.Basement tapes,yup.But the original ones,not the Robbie Robertson-Columbia Records rehash.
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