It's the little things...

You might think you're stressed. Anyone with a monotonous job or coursework might fall into this category. They would also be wrong.

I try to maintain a cool head. Sure, I get frustrated sometimes by the ignorance of some fans of Kings of Leon and the like, but I'm otherwise a sound young chap. If you bump into me at the bar and knock some of my pint flowing into the sticky and rather retro looking pub carpet, I'll simply say "It's alright mate" and keep sipping on my Strongbow (as in Willy's nobody is a cock and nobody undermines that principle, where as in Old Lloyds it's practically an unglorified free-for-all).

Now, imagine yourself in a situation I faced a month or so ago. I had to do 20,o00 words of coursework in two weeks. How the fuck did I manage that? Well I didn't do it by being a dick head, that's for sure! Academic spiel is always a burden and should be shot, assuming it takes the form of a giant paper gollum about to wreck havoc on your bedroom (though my bedroom already looks like a warzone, so I guess my point is negated), yet I combatted it by living a little. Leway, believe it or not, saves lives. I would've topped myself if it weren't for the pub (I am that sad). Sure, a few evaluative essays are pricks to do, but when you can write from your own opinion without having to reference, like in an evaluation, then you're well and truly wanking.

So why is it that when someone forgets the time, the penalty is a stern lecture and depression. I don't understand it. I might never understand it. I said I would be at a location at a set time, yet I'm constrained to emotion and a lack of mental grit, opposed to a simpler diegesis of facts and figures. Nobody, seemingly, has the ability to rationalise anything.

It's the little things that piss you off, like underlying mental instability and unfair backstage politics.