»15th March 2005

Aggressive Perfector


This week began with the unnerving bad omen of missing the 209 bus on Sunday. Missing this bus has previously heralded a week of shitness (last week, for example) and so I expected this week to follow suit.


The end of semester one almost saw the end of Extar too. Frequent cursing, poor diet, unhealthy appetite for thrash metal and power ballads... This stage was reached sometime about two or so weeks ago during this semester. This is most likely due to having one essay to hand in at the end of the week for four weeks running. 'Not so bad' I hear you say, but when combined with the general rule that work expands to fill the time available, you have all work and no play makes Extar a dull boy.

It goes without saying that going past the stage reached last December is a bad thing. Paranoia and mood swings are the unfortunate result now of going even slightly hungry and there is an almost constant feeling of fatigue. Walking around in the darkness frowning for no reason, identifying with the lyrics on 'Where is Everybody?' by Nine Inch Nails, swearing a lot, considering people I pass in the street as 'potential enemies', fear of assassination plots, general fear of a conspiracy against me. This is not the sort of behavior desirable in a well-functioning Extar.


Bad weeks are cleverly disguised through cancellation of seminars and lectures, which lead you to believe 'I'll have more free time this week, how convenient'. Do not be fooled by this, you will have less free time and will be filled with guilt for not filling this free time with more productive activities. It is best to consider 'free time' merely as time awaiting schedule. Gradually the whole of the week will blur into one continuous spell of lateness, idleness and resent. Little will get done in the way of work and other inconveniences will arise to ruin days one at a time.


Thoughts of the day

They will betray you, should you give them the opportunity
Everyone hates you
You are a failure
You shouldn't be here
Your life is falling apart piece by piece
Everything is hollow
The hell is without end


Vision blurring, must go.


Extar, over, out.

He'll have you down on your knees, you'll play his little game.