Eating my Wings

I am often driven mad by my own plans for the future, a lot of the time my insipid schemes fall apart and they do so for no other reason than my own avarice, I yearn to be both free and enslaved, I eat my own wings at inopportune moments as if guided by the hand of destiny. When musings of this sort cross my mind I instinctively react by blaming my own weakness of character; how convenient it is for me to scapegoat fate in my most pitiful of circumstances. I am indeed a weak human being surrounded by other weak human beings and yet we never seem to understand one another. As fate would have it I ran into a pseudo friend of mine while smoking outside my apartment block, I called out to him and we both stood and chatted for 10 odd minutes. We repeated the same reminiscent creed of all final year students faced by the prospect of going out into the world, how old we felt, how quickly our time at university had passed, how cruel the job market was, how we were so carefree as freshmen. At the same time I felt a great deal of disdain towards this imbecile, he was studying "International Business" one of those comedic degrees that often leads nowhere, he was a vegetarian by religion (political correctness aside) how somebody could spend their student years eating chips alone still perplexed me, perhaps if he had eaten more meat he'd have grown taller. I wondered what this fool wanted from life, he told me about his fabled girlfriend whom I'd met on a couple of occasions she was equally unimpressive, it seems that our friendship as freshmen had been based on two rather fragile foundations i.e. our rooms were opposite one another and we were both brown skinned. 

He'd wanted to organise some sort of get-together whereby a number of brown people would go and watch a play. I was reluctant at first, not least because of my busy and unpredictable schedule but because I thought he'd picked out some sort of uninteresting crap. My preconceived notions of his lackluster taste turned out to be justified when he clarified that we weren't going to the best theatre in town but instead some sort of badly named pub I'd never heard of. With that matter sorted we parted ways and I returned to the solitude of my room. I have a mock trial to prepare for, a rather important one seeing as I've exasperatingly battled my way to this stage of the nationwide competition and although I have the majority of my case thought out I just can't seem to put it together convincingly, this skeleton has to be sent off by Sunday and tomorrow I'm going to be interrogated by my ex-barrister professor who expects nothing but the best from his two most promising proteges and so I have no choice but to pull a rabbit out of my hat tonight. Whoever wrote this scenario is a veritable cock...Who on Earth uses a "telex" in this day and age? As agonising as a battle of forms normally is, it's made even more hellish by the use of an obscure antique to send and receive messages. Besides it's going to take me hours to get to Portsmouth because I'll have to change at London. If I end up losing the return journey is going to be foul.

In addition I have to somehow scrape together another one of those wonderful French presentations by Monday. I had my first mediation class yesterday, God I can't stand that woman's accent it's so undeniably cockney it's no wonder she's a mediator if she were to speak like that in court she'd lose every single time.  Nobody cares about your dysfunctional marriage or your new age mind games that involve taping string to the floor. Still I'm going to attend all of your classes (resentfully) because I want the word mediation on my transcript. Amid all of this bullshit some firms see it fit to post vacation scheme deadlines, well guess what? Fuck you. I've ranted a bit, I feel better now, I can successfully return to the real world and put on my happy face. Does anybody else eat their wings like I do?