So I have a million things I could be doing, not the least of which would be preparing for another visit from the exam demon on Monday, but instead I choose to blog. I sit in my room full of boxes and clothes and random pieces of my life scattered about, draped on a Foosball table, a workout machine, and my antique bed frame with it's high ends. Dirty laundry is struggling to escape the confines of the white basket I've trapped it in. I of course will wake up in the morning and berate myself for not doing the laundry for I will have "nothing to wear"...at which point lightening will strike me for such a lie on a Sunday. I'm recovering from an enraging message from the institution where all my money goes, and suddenly I feel so small. I feel like a tiny, helpless frog looking up at a giant cyclist coming my way and being at the mercy of whichever way he turns his wheel. Who put this much power in the heads of a school and why are there so few lawful ways to fight the powers that be? But what can I do? It doesn't seem fair, but for my whole life my mother has drilled into my head the fact that life is indeed, not fair. So what can we do, the little frogs at the mercy of the cyclist? Should we form a union and defeat this monster that hands down judgment? Or should we accept these lessons as ways of learning, for future reference, how to deal with the Cyclists? Either way I'm highly angry. But who do you call when the reason for your anger is the one you did choose to call? What if your faith in the institution to do the right thing was useless? When I put my faith in something and it falls through, it's the end. There are no second chances for that kind of thing. So, contemplating all this, I stare at my laundry basket and my boxes and decide that I won't let this one thing ruin my whole day. I will be productive still, and if the powers-that-be have a problem with it, well THEN I will fight them.