Run, as fast as you can

Oh, the dreaded day is once again upon us. The Valentine madness reaches out its long, green slime covered arms to suck us all into the vortex of make-belief love-joy. The flowershop owners throw their roses and tulips and carnations at us, frowning if we choose to remain untouched by their corny, cheesey, annoying, contaminating happiness. Make that white lilies for me. The shops sell heart shapes chocolate products to every oversized sonofabitch and every fat chick who should not be eating any chocolate, at all, and especially not when they are complaining that they are sooo all-alone-in-this-cold-cold-world because they feel unhappy about being fat. The only songs you will get to hear on the radio today are all bound to be taken off every compilation of love songs to have come out in the last 50 years. Say No! to WetWetWet, say No! to Tina Turner, Say No! to Phil Collins. Be strong and remember, it will all be over tomorrow. If you need someone to tell you that everything will be ok until then, check this out.

Complaint

For April Chess and Fire Shantih sing
The Ancient Captains dead by Water sway
And Paradise is lost like hope in spring
Shall I compare it to an April's Day
Where little Boys and little Girls are lost
November finds the Boy a bitter Man
Complaining nagging pitying the cost
Of knowing not how his Career began
The Albatross was never on his Side
The Tyger's Flames put out but long ago
Yet Satan never in Defeat He cried
If Winston Smith had really loved Big Bro
So Shakespeare Milton Eliot Coleridge Blake
And Everything they stand for is just fake

Attempts at understanding all must fail
The Libraries these days too early close
The Mind of this is shocked becoming frail
And tied in self-made Chains all Reason goes
To Hell or Heaven just as it may please
Thus leaving us to face Reality
With Eyes displaying openly Disease
Insane and crazy mad Divinity
Examination Day too soon arrives
To all that suffer deeply from this Pain
That surely into Madness fast us drives
And any Hope for Help is hoped in vain
For Shakespeare Milton Eliot Coleridge Blake
And Everything they stand for is just fake

Painful Hours

I have been putting this moment off for years, but now there is no more waiting. Having neglected to record all the courses I attended during all those years at the university, it was bit of a moment of truth trying to remember, or rather trying to reconstruct my schedules of say, spring/summer term of 2001.

So with the deadline being tomorrow, I sat down today to go through all my notes to recapture some 7 or 8 terms worth of studying. And I guess now I am done. All that is left to do is to copy it down into the forms provided by the university.

But what a drag it was. And all this time today I have been wondering why the f#ck did I have to postpone it for this long? Well, I will have to do better in the future. No more excuses!