Time passes. So quickly does it drag i'ts lumbering mass by. And those few fragmented moments we each receive, we must judge how we arrange them.
I know that if I pursue grad school, this is job temporary. I know that I am sinking a great deal into a project that garners more complexity with each passing moment, and shouldering that is a challenge. I know that there is so much to this world.
My toes touch the bottom of the pool. But barely.
I want a drink. Instead I'll go to work. Both are mind-numbing, so what does it matter?
