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I'm Sad That I'm Flying...

Feeling sort of pathetically pathetic. There is nothing wrong in my life, I'm just...pathetic. If I were a dog, I'd be lying on the porch moving nothing but my eyebrows as I watched squirrels eating my food.

I'm feeling squished for time, and my defense mechanism when I feel squished for time is to be purposely wasteful of it. This very instant, for instance, I am supposed to be creating a new manual that I have to have done in two hours. It's not physically possible. I feel like the miller's daugher in Rumplestiltskin. On the other hand, somewhere inside of me there is a little imp riding around a campfire on a giant spoon who will come out and produce that manual by noon. And everyone will think it was me.

Comments

( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
mortaine
Apr. 6th, 2004 11:18 am (UTC)
When the deadline has passed, and there's no further hope, call me and we'll go workout and you'll feel better.
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )