Tempus Fugit

Time Flies…

   Aug 01

The First Rock

Last night was my first full blown “foetal position rocking back and forth holy fuck I am so fucked it’s so beyond being not funny it’s funny” moment. Didn’t sleep all last night with worry. I was deluged in self-pity. (That is such a funky way of describing things…I can picture a tidal wave or a storm of self-pity dumping itself on me…and it’s exactly how I felt). I am sure my BP was unhealthy.

And then I decided that it really isn’t a disaster if I don’t manage to get through. I don’t feel mentally prepared to deal with shit next year and frankly I have been fart-arsing around for the last two years instead of being dilligent….so I really don’t think I actually know enough.

If I don’t happen to get over the line…. I can think of so many fun things I can do that I would otherwise not be able to. It’s thus not a great motivator. Sometimes I wonder why I even chose this career path. Last night was one of those wondering moments. I mean really…what I have I achieved by doing this? Well it would appear I have gotten a job where they EXPECT overtime, it’s stressful, thankless, involves smelly things, leaves you no free time and doesn’t pay any better than jobs I have done previously. It would appear that instead of curing my hypochondriasis it’s come back ten billion times worse…..

…the nightmares are still happening… on Saturday night I dreamt I was riding my bike home along the bike path on the river and there was a multiple fatality accident on the WJ-Bridge and the suicidal maniac that had caused it (a bloke in his thirties apparently) had somehow been thrown from the bridge and was hanging precariously upside down like a bat just above the bike path. Nobody seemed to be giving him any attention as they were dealing with the carnage above and thought he was dead. As I rode past he opened his eyese and started talking to me. I stopped and stared up at him and he was telling me things and he seemed like a really nice guy…until he pulled out a container of highly concentrated acide and threw it in my face. Fortunately I woke up then…

But back to last night…and my current predicament, which I am sure is contributing to my nightmares … the moment I stopped caring about getting through was the moment I fell asleep and slept blissfully through.

Maybe it’s a sign!!

You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.

3 Comments

  1. Sam says:

    So let me see if I read all that correctly – your slightly stressed right?

    I’d probably say that after 8 years of uni (I’ll repeat that – Eight Years of uni), giving up at the finish line seems a bit silly. You should at least complete the damn thing – even if just to have something that proves you where doing stuff for all those years.

    Its only natural that you would stress. You speeding towards the conclusion of a significant section of you life.

    Besides, from everything you’ve told us about doctors, it would seem that they still don’t know what their doing.

  2. jez says:

    Such sage words of wisdom from one so young….

    You sound like you are channelling a combination of my mother and some of my dear friends who would all say exactly that…almost down to each and every word you have uttered.

    And indeed you are right. And deep down I probably know this. And I should stop being so melodramatic. But sometimes…. melodrama is fun!!!

  3. Kym says:

    Get over it. I had to and I had a much less life-threatening career choice.

    Mmmmmm Melodrama…….

Bad Behavior has blocked 79 access attempts in the last 7 days.