March 21, 2011

Maddening March

I don’t have basketball fever, not until the NBA Playoffs kick in (Go Magic!), but March is the time of the year when the buck has to stop, everything must go, I have to place my foot down, and every terrible clichés found in the Book of Terrible Clichés. Just as the NCAA Basketball is sure to provide television viewers with sad endings, great upsets, and awesome finishes, March is when I have to rush and submit final papers in school along with my obsessive compulsiveness to work, my stress level is at an all-time high, and, for some strange reason, lots of personal shit gets unfurled under the blanket. Might not make for great television, but the drama and tension-filled days leading up to the deadlines of my respective papers will surely provide action-packed moments until the final buzzer.

I’m not the most level-headed person in the planet, but I do try my darnedest to keep my insanity in check. However, with emotions running high this time of the year, as well as the foreseeable sleepless nights that will surely put me in a dour mood, I won’t be able to help but unleash some of my badness from time to time. Thus, consider this as my advanced apology if you ever get caught in my emotional and psychological crosshairs. Didn’t mean  to pour out my anger or irrational behavior towards you, as it is all circumstantial and perchance. Let’s still be friends, m’kay?

Since I’ve learned to take things slower and easier for me this time around, I put the reading materials for my papers away for the time being, and instead spent time cleaning up my room, which I last cleaned roughly a year ago. After years of procrastination, I finally bought a big plastic crate where I will transfer my undergraduate stuff from an old, dusty cardboard boxes. Well, I already have transfered it, and it left me feeling a little bit bittersweet.

I always have negative things to say about school, whether it was from my college years or my current graduate studies, but it was for the wrong reasons. After browsing through some of my notes, I was not because of the mediocre grades I got on all of them, nor was it the sufferance towards my ennui during the final year as an undergraduate. But rather, I decided to be miserable. I could have been happy, spent more time with my friends, drank as much grub as possible, and took things less seriously, but instead, I did the exact opposite. I abstained from the pleasures of my youth, which led me to being this reclusive, ingratiated, misunderstood twat that was enclosed with his own world, his own problems. Never did he realize that if he only tried to break free from the four walls that enclosed him, he would uncover the mortifying truth, that he was perfectly fine and that he’s an idiot for being so overtly melodramatic.

Goddamnit. if only I had the ability to time travel with the presupposition that it won’t cause a butterfly effect, then I’d slap the 2005 version of me silly.

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