Time

Time.
Time.
Time.

Sometimes you have too much. You complain as your lack of creativity stifles the tick, tocking of the moments ahead of you and rendered those before you mundane. You realise that you are less interesting than you thought. You realise you have nothing to fill your life.

Sometimes you don't have enough. You squeeze as much out of every second and wind yourself up. You plan and scrutinise your passing moments and feel as though not enough has been achieved. You feel like a failure.

Then there are times like today. When your dozy American housemate wakes you up at 5.30 am (what he actually thought to be 6.30am having not allowed for Ramadam clock changes - git!) questioning why you'd still be asleep (of all the things to be doing at that hour) on a work day, leaving you bitter and resentlful as you realise that it's futile to try and sleep for the remaining half hour of your normal pattern. (There's movement. It's outrageously hot. The a/c takes about 10 mins to take any effect! You're a light sleeper. You've got mroning glory and other things in mind.) Then you sit through a 1 hour meeting that feels like 3 hours as you slip in and out of slumber (ultimately warping time perception further and fusing dream and reality - extending the minds state of discombobulation.)

All of which leave you glazed, empty and forced to smile and fain politeness as you welcome the fresh (thoroughly enthusiastic) faces of the new school year.

Time.
Time.
Time.