v16: Warmth in the void

Working on my Globalization project is the kind of thing that can drive a man to drink. Fortunately, that might not be totally inappropriate, as the project is on Ireland.

I'm convinced this project has become the source of uch physical suffering. I guess it's to match the mental suffering. I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate doing this project. I can't even properly express it. My back is sore, my muscles are worn, my throat is dry and scratchy.

But it's the next item on the agenda. After polishing off my "Sirens" piece for Mythology, that became the next most pressing issue. And boy, is it pressing. I can't help but dwell on it, but to type it is only contributing to ths pain I am feeling.

Early this morning, on a break from Mitro~*'s class, I ran into Adam Brown at the Pizza Pizza. This caused me to do a double take as Adam Brown is a goddamn Grade 10 at White Oaks Secondary School.

Granted: my appearences ther ehave not exactly been sparse since my graduation. However, my reasons are simple: I still have numerous friends there, and it's on my wany to and from class. Adam Brown just goes with his little twerp friends to eat our food and possibly, in the most offense part I can think of, clog the Tim horton's line (I've seen plenty of high schoolers on their way back from Sheridan with Tim's cups. Jerks: the line's already long enough.) From there, it was the usual news-assignment meeting, then a pointless session of E-Publishing (since my partner and I already spoke that day, and it was just a work period,) so I left early for home. I did a little writing until Dad came, then dinner.

It was such a lovely, misty, warm night, one could feel the carbon dioxide exhalations of the blades of grass. I went over to the library to fetch some books for the Mythology project. Once that was done, it was so nice I used returning them as an excuse to get out again. I also got a graphic novel for later.

I'm currently reading Huxley's "Brave New World." This is unusual for me as I don't normally use my literacy, and when I do, it's on something obscure. I tend to not read well-known classics because many of them have reached the point where reading about them is the same damn thing. Like 1984, for instance. I'm sure it's brilliant, but I already seemingly know all of its secrets. However, Eric happened to have a copy of "BNW" and I happened to need something to read over the weekend, so I started it, and have been enjoying it. I wonder where his copy of "The Trial" went, because I never finished it.

So thankfully I've managed to use this writing as a distraction from the laborious construction of my Ireland P8 write-up. It's working like a charm, but I'll have to face facts eventually. Thankfully, it'll be over with soon and that's one more hell I need no longer inhabit.

Myrrgh.

That's roughly how I feel right about now. But I'm optimistic. Things'll be gettng better not long from now.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto