Filthy, Filthy Chaos

Filthy, filthy chaos. That is what my life has transformed to since the gigantic comeback of this thing called school.

Rise and shine, late nights, skipped meals, stage fright. Struggling to squeeze in the much needed wanted shopping-spree, and the polka-dotted bag that holds books, upon books, upon books.

I encountered a ramp that lives at the bottom of a lecture hall series, but I’m pretty sure it was meant to be a skateboarding-park, or something because it rests at approximately a-hundred-and-eighty-degrees in steepness.

My daily detour of going around the lecture lobby in an outdoor-sort-of-format helps me avoid the possibility of facing my death, or even worse, ending up X times more disabled.

The only upside to the freshly-gained chaos is the break I’ve given my bank account, and the six-hour Timmies line-up that I so shamelessly skip. Occasionally, the cringes and giggles, courtesy of the children wearing sunglasses in lectures are mildly entertainful too.

My shopping list consists of about four million things right now, but filthy, filthy chaos has only lent me X hours per week dedicated to the mall, so I’ve had a moment or two to think about the stupid sh** I do:

-The amount I spent this summer is the price of my tuition multiplied by X.

-My filing cabinet at work contains extra clothing items.

-I splurge on cleaning products when there’s nothing on my shopping list.

-I have enough clothes to last me X years in a post-apocalyptic state.

-Many of the clothing items in my drawers still contain tags.

-I have more baby lotion than a newborn.

-Half of Shoppers Drugmart resides on a shelf underneath my nightstand, including a bunch of unopened items.

-I have not acquired the self-control to enter a store and come out with nothing.

-Last night, I almost bought a coffee table book that was more than a coffee table itself. 


I'm trying to change, but I probably won't.