>It's the little things, I suppose

> I don't exactly know how to quantize this semester. If some poor computer were forced to process the exorbitant amount of data coming in and swirling about in a chaotic fashion it might crumble into a messy heap on the floor already cluttered with other stuff to do.

I feel like this is exactly what is happening right now, and for those who are reading who are slightly less apt at deciphering metaphor, I am comparing myself to a computer here. Just for clarity, teehee.

I have loaded my task manager down with more than it is used to handling (not that it wasn't built to handle more) and so all I'm seeing is the annoying little hourglass flipping around and around (or, if you're a mac user like myself, the insane spinning beach ball of colors). The timing is less than opportune, also, because your computer never freezes when you are sitting around playing solitaire... You're always cramming last minute scratching out the bones of a paper due the next day or clicking feverishly to get the Internet to connect so that the email you're sending to an employer will be on it's merry little way or trying to handle all of the little things that are flying your way.

When you find yourself in that situation the only option is reboot. Control Alt Delete. Force Quit. The only problem with that solution is that while your system is down momentarily, there is a line forming of people who need to talk to you and deadlines that are approaching and problems that need to be solved and all you need to do is for everybody to chill out for less than a second so that your life can return to a state of homeostasis.

But no. Life doesn't like to give you a chance to breathe. It's either school or work or you can't get up on time or you get writer's block or you get roped into something you can't handle or you can't make enough money and all of your sentences become run-ons and all of your concepts become jumbled and all of your words get reduced to the simplest forms of pre-pubescent dribble... and nothing you can do cuts it anymore.

I know that eventually things will be caught up and problems will be placed under my firmly planted feet. Unfortunately, until that day comes, I have to realize that the best I can offer simply doesn't cut it sometimes, at least until my system starts running at 100% again.

I apologize for the glum update, but perhaps something you read made you realize that you're in the same boat and that you're not alone. If that's you, message me! We can talk about it, pull each other up by the frayed ends of our bootstraps, watch reruns of the OC to make our lives feel somehow comparatively less chaotic.

Hamilton Barber

The subject of this page is an introverted writer/musician/lunatic from Chattanooga, TN who dabbles in lexical dexterity, unorthodox thoughts on prosperity, and being overwhelmingly undeserving of the privilege of waking up every day. He hopes that everybody who reads these words takes them to heart and leaps higher than he ever could. He reads, thinks, and speaks too much; he listens, works, and loves too little; and he says “I” entirely too often. The words on these pages are not his: they are the words that were given to him.