term end?

apparently it's the last day of term. with the inundation it doesn't feel like it. an average of thirty to forty messages a day from people waiting to see me, including their assortment of scripts, two hundred unvetted testimonials, at least three more whole days of seminars, an organisation-wide appraisal to write, and a brand new subject to prep for next year, not yet started.

(retail therapy is spending obscene amounts of money on games)

stalker

they used to be prettier, or at least more kawaii. not that it's expected, but teenage hormones need fixations of whatever sort, random targeting and laws of probability dictate my unfortunate involvement.

this one turns up at my bus stop some mornings. why can't they stick to leaving cutesy notes like they used to? but i suppose that's so done.

what really bothers me is the presumption of familiarity.

jump

man died. standard issue mall perspex parapet - so not an accidental fall. four storeys. tiles. a loud whomp.

i believe it was the barricaded congealed dark red remnant an hour later that got to me.

and other hate

left out women from the list.

top guy from top ad agency resigned for calling all women underlings crap. apparently the shock was due to his refreshing brutal honesty.

repressed or otherwise, everybody hates?

flaming

race is out, seditiously. religion too i suppose. and politics. and strangely, teachers. aircrew too apparently, thanks to flightplan. by the same token any profession. thin skins, all.

only fat, stupid and ugly people left to hate. and this is less slanderous, less personal how?

bestman

for some reason i've been landed with the task (not that i really know the man - more like a return favour) and queen jue's been laughing at my current dread from the foreboding. can't bring myself to accoutre and perform the entire circus, especially since i'd hardly do it for myself.

l'enfer, cest les autres.