I woke up at 05:00 AM.
Date today: May 6, 2100…errr..I mean 2010.
Awakened from my not-so-sweet slumber due to massively unpleasant dream, the details of which now eludes me, but with an overarching plotline that dealt with yours truly somehow being back in some wacked-out form of high school.
So I received a reminder (in the dream of course) that on May 22, 2010, I was to hand over my final project paper, a crucial piece to determine if I have to remain stuck in High School, or if I\'m allowed to get the Hell outta there.
Naturally, the project was something I was/am completely clueless about; think the subject was Danish, a pathetic waste of time for people like me who are motivated by subjects based on their practical usability – Danish merely serves to extend your knowledge on arts and litterature, something that\'s really far removed from the small confined reality I live in, where I need to acquire skills that would make me a useful workforce.
Harsh and shallow judgment of my own aside, I now had 15-17 days left to complete a project that I was supposed to have been working full steam on, like, HALF A FREAKIN\' YEAR AGO!!!
And I still had no clue what the heck the assignment even was supposed to be about, even less about what I should write. Ensue major panic.
Ok, so I was fortunate to wake from this wretched dream, but as is usually the case, I\'m unable to go back to sleep afterwards (yet I tend to always hope, over-optimistically perhaps, that I could perhaps grab a little shut-eye to ensure I have just a little more actual rest to ensure I don\'t end up completely wasted before the work day even begins).
An additional half hour wasted on vain attempts to re-acquire sleep, and pointless brooding about a past that cannot be changed and a society that I certainly cannot change.
Conclusion: Yours truly refuses to ever engage in any sort of education that has any kind of month-long written assignment for its final exam assessment.
I don\'t care if I have to clean other people\'s homes till the day I drop dead from exhaustion, because I cannot believe that any job in this wretched Hell on Earth would be worth putting myself through something like that ever again.
Now if you\'ll excuse me, I\'m going back to trying to live what remains of my life. I think I\'ve earned it.
Signed Mr. Blah-blah-blah…[insert address, post number and other such formalities]