April 1999

So.

Another month gone, another day closer to the end of the school year.
And I've just discovered the incredible joy one has in staying up after midnight, and getting up at six every morning.
Note: to any parents out there, I deeply respect you now.

But I don't know, it's just been a draining month. It's just been one of those months where every time you turn around, something else happens to put you even further behind than you already were. It is almost asthough there were some great conspiracy to try to make my life as busy as is humanly possible. It's almost as though my professors and the marking advisor (my boss) confer together and say, "You know Alex? I hear he's had 10 minutes of spare time today. What can we give him to use that last bit of time up?"
If idle hands are the devil's toolbox, then all I know is that my hands must be sanctified by now.
It's just been one of those months.
Ack.
I mean, even this article is only getting written because I'm tired of marking (having marked 150 or so tests today) and I'm not feeling like doing anything else even remotely productive.
It just occured to me that I've gotten about halfway into my article without writing anything that is in the least humorous or interesting. It's just been one of those months.
And I've discovered that I hate the way Microsoft operates, but I'm locked into their scheme of world domination.
It's just been one of those months.
I wish I could shave my head bald and my beard off and go live in a monastery somewhere until all this stuff passes me by. Knowing the way my life's going though, everything would find me there.
It's just been one of those months.
Even writing this article has devolved into a litany of complaints.
It's just been one of those months.
Half-mathematician, half-frustrated artist, always wanting to be that which I'm not, not realizing that I never will be what I'm not, but that I will be what I will be, which is essentially that which I am, just extrapolated a little, but what will be, will be, despite my wishing it otherwise.
It's just been one of those months.
This article is late, so I'd better finish it now. But it's late.
Actually, it's even later now.
And later now.
And later now.
And later now.
And later now.
And no later now than in the following line, but later than in the previous line, although it might not be any later. It depends whether or not you think I write these articles linearly. Which I may or may not. And I'm not going to tell you. Unless you ask me. And if you do, I might not remember.
It's just been one of those months.