Rantglass - because that's how things are.

Ninety nine days to the revolution.

Ninety nine days to the revolution.

It seems to be everyone’s favourite word. It hampers productivity, and I find it utterly wrong for me to put everything aside and do.. absolutely nothing. Stacks of unfinished assignments are piling up, deadlines are looming. Brain is yelling for the body to work, but the latter simply refuses to listen. Next weekend. Three hours later. After dinner. Later. In a while.


Probably that is why I have way too many things to think about, lately.

Anyhow, I had a terrible morning. I will not say much – but I wished I need not have to throw away a precious forty five minutes that can never be recovered. Forty five minutes that belonged to others, not only myself. It was not my fault, at all. But it sure makes you feel so, makes you feel guilty having wasted others’ time.

Do you know how it feels like, to have many pairs of eyes fixed expectantly on you, hoping that the presentation would start as soon as possible? Then there were the knitted brows and impatient looks from the lecturers, staring equally hard at the screen. And last of all – the presenters – myself included – who were muttering curses and throwing declarations to issue complaints on the poor facilities (unfortunately, we mostly belong to the ‘all-talk-but-no-action’ type).

I guess the only solution is, for the faculty to get better working computers for the students. Which, in fact, should not be a solution we have to have today – it is already expected of them to do so. Apprently not, for we still need to suffer a horrendously long wait to transfer files from a mere CD to the PC.

Ugh. I badly need something new to listen to. And a new chair, I think. Probably one of those office types, to which you can adjust its back and height, comes with a better cushion – and you can turn around while sitting on it, just for the heck of it.

On air now: Drawn Out, Dishwalla

Details of this entry.Monday, July 28, 2003, filed under Blogger Archives.
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