Rant

I suppose it has probably gotten to the time in life where one is starting to get more ``boring'' as a general rule of thumb, because I find that I have less and less interesting things that I really want to talk about over here, or even on my other blog. I'm a little less pensieve than before, partly because there's just so much that needs to be done that I have little time to be worrying about other things that might be affecting me, this being November and all. Oh and the fact that every day, in effect, I am mostly working on things alone, just me with my machines in my cubicle, wondering about why something wasn't working in the way that one would think ought to work, only to end the work day with a few queries still left in the mind that needs some more investigation once I reach home.

I have been told by many people about how they can read the various research papers on the buses and the other public transport---I'm not that super to be able to do that. One thing is that I am afflicted by motion sickness, so actually reading anything on any moving vehicle is probably going to cause more grief than anything else. Couple that with the fact that I absolutely adore annotating the text I'm reading, it means the the three hours that I use each day travelling to and fro work are effectively ``dead'' time that I cannot use to do all these readings.

Maybe it is a good thing for me, in a certain sense. Already I'm feeling the effects of being overworked---my mind has been drifting all over the place, sleep has been rather fitful, appetite has been low, irritability has gone up, and I'm seriously starting to look forward to the weekends. This cannot be a good thing considering all that had happened---I've always thought that I was a workaholic, yet now, when faced with the harsh realities of an effective over-commitment of time, it feels as though I'm not as I thought I once was; I was still human with silly human requirements after all. Like sleep and its friends.

I was assured back in my undergraduate years that once I was done with undergrad, life will not be any more hectic. Then, just like now, I knew that it was a lie; it is hardly the case that things will get better over time. If one were lucky, the status quo is maintained and there will hardly be anything that is sworth worrying about any more. But of course, the thing is that in real-life out of that of academia, work is never-ending---everything is ``in the book'' and while you might have access to your ``cheat sheets'' all the time, the fact that you need to consistently be applying all these ideas at least nine-and-a-half hours a day means that at the end of one work day, the sheer feeling of lackadaisicality is just hard ignore.

I supose there is no one else to blame but myself. In many ways, it might be the case that I have been thinking too highly about myself, always setting goals that are so high and hard that most people think that it is sheer folly to even consider, let alone trying to work towards them. Always a need to prove myself, always a need to show something. Maybe one day I will learn how to overcome this character flaw and figure out how to take things a little easier so as to leave myself with some time to actually do the whole ``be alive'' bit as opposed to being a cog in the entire machine.

I started on this post with hardly any true direction---I think this truly qualifies as a rant of some sort. Maybe some day I will get to look back on this, reflect on it, and then learn to laugh if off.