Superman

Today is the intersection of the balls I've been struggling to juggle for three-four months running. I'm running late on a deadline at school and because of that, I'm not able to go to a job that I've already passed a resignation letter on because of another subject that is on the tenterhooks because of tardiness since 1) I'm a crappy taskmaster, and 2) Work and sleep pretty much eat up my day.

By the time you get to this line, you'll probably be wondering why these things didn't wreak havoc earlier.
By the time I got to that line, I was wondering how in heaven's name did I keep them from wreaking havoc earlier.

The cherry on top of this particular pie? I got a nasty gash in my finger (read: there is a groove where flesh, blood and skin was supposed to be. Dunno, I got a long one in the arm before, but that was with a door. Go figure.) when the cap of the coke bottle ricocheted off my hand and shattered a nearby glass.

I know I have the capacity to do all this and have something left over. However, I can't do this everyday. Though all of my details are precise to the minute when I lay my plans, I am not a being of minute mutinae. I'm losing out on my priorities because of what my responsibilities are demanding of me. I am now reduced to work, commute and home, with school almost losing out on the deal. No more arnis for me, the the planned capoiera classes might just as well go out the window along with plans of disk-tossing. I miss the idle banter of people I actually can relate to, and not just because we're griping against the way we are treated.

Most of all, I miss myself. I'm turning to a bitter, sharp-tongued bastard , full of angst but powerless to release or divert it.

So something should be sent out, for sanity's sake.