The guys in the office thought it'd be funny asking me to carry a bucket full of change to the donations department. They weren't laughing when I did it with one hand. Fools, aught to know not to be decieved by appearances.

With the fun and joking asside, when the peals of laughter fall away, one by one more frequently now, the world pulls on its veil of strangeness, and it's like stepping out of the plot.
Like peering through the cigrete-burn holes in a cardigan in search of the future. Like watching Inland Empire; where everyone and everything is so random, detached, absurd. Maybe thats what it was all about. Can the world really make sense as a whole, when everywhere are completely irrelevant and unconnected incidents taking place? When things which make sense to one man are jibberish to another, how can we find unity in the actions of men?
I grow more and more strange everyday. To my life. To my self. To those arround me.

I'm going to defer my Masters again tomorrow.
And then I'm going to think hard about Sudan.
And why not? It feels like the only thing tying me down to this place is my cat.