It's almost tomorrow [edit: after publishing this, it is tomorrow] and I would be smart if I closed the computer screen and hit the "slumber" button on my brain. Unfortunately, I'm not smart, and I choose self-inflicted exhaustion in order to spend a few moments spewing midnight blogness into the world of the web. I have a lot of things to write about, but whenever I come to pen them down, they just sort of crumble and dissolve on the page. It's like none of my thoughts really connect and hold together. Everything is just a thin webbing with segments glued in place by illusion.
Ain't that a nice thought?
I'm really stressed right about now. 11:56 PM is not a great time to be stressed. However, make no mistake in thinking that stress is a form of insomnia for me. Oh no, on au contray, m'friend! Kismint happens to be master in the art of deep sleeping, and therefore has no trouble dropping off to dreamland in the appropriate quiet of night.
But back to the stress part.
A month or so back, I wrote about entering a Doodle 4 Google contest. Problems, of course, arise when it so happens that your's truly is also a truly terrible procrastinator. So here I iz. With...no completed doodle. Only nine days before I need to be done.
*kicks rock down the street*
Crap. I really hate feeling like I'm in a time squeeze.
---And it's not even that bad! Nine days could get me anywhere. I could be in Hong Kong in nine days. I could be a newly hired employee at Pulled-Pork & Company Incorporation in nine days. But it's the feel of time seeping away like that. And all the while, my artsy-tartsy inspiration is seeping away too.
Not to mention that my dear mum has ever-so-often expressed her great desire for me to enter and enter my very best (ASAP).
Ahhh...kick in the gut.
So here I am, kind of wanting to pound a hole in the wall because I'm irrationally panicking on the inside. Irrational stuff is dumb. I don't know why, but I'm extremely sensitive to the slightest application of any kind of pressure.
I feel pressured.
I think it might be best if I go to sleep now.
I'm meaning to write and tell more. Thank you for allowing me to vent. Feel free to throw squishy vegetables because then I won't feel bad about picking them up and throwing them (really hard) back.
Don't worry, I've got a bad arm.
K-Minty
