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Is it panic, or one coffee too many?
Today, I hit the panic button and then the off button - on the internet connector thingy that is, but not before I have one last strong, dark coffee and wail one last time on these pages.

To put this all in context, I have an application due this Friday, and although much of it is done, there remains some red tape that's still sticking to its roll and unlike the toilet roll paper of life that CA referred to last night ("Facebook Philiosophy: Life is like a roll of toilet paper - the closer to the end, the faster it unrolls"), this particular roll is sticking hard and fast to the administrative desk. They do this to torture us you know, they really do.  I'm also waiting on various bits and pieces of paper from other people, and I'm not getting them. As a result, I've started waking up at 3:30 am in a panic. This can't be good for my heart - it's certainly not good for my mien, nor my state of mind, or mood.

The thing that really kills me is that in the background, a second application lurks, and the second  is due April 1st - neato eh? A little cosmic joke on the part of the funders eh - except they have no sense of humour - when you ask a question (face to face, this was), the representative answered by quoting the exact text from their website ("for liability issues you see").  The collective panel of reviewers rolled their eyes in unison, and the resulting wind made the papers on the desk flutter in an agitated manner.

Probably a bad idea to ask for a letter when this is my mien
Lastly, I've also been tasked with writing a letter of intent for a third application - and that letter is due at the same as the first one. Another cosmic joke eh? eh? eh? Except I don't see anyone laughing, least of all me.

So I'm in panic mode today - already trying to get out of the house, I went down and then up, and then down, and then up and then down the lift before finally giving up and biking without essential bits of clothing to keep essential bits of me warm - the fingers what type and submit applications you see - I have 10 pink bits now, and had to stop at Mr. Bean's for a warming cup of coffee where Boo-boo the barista has lost his voice, and pinned on his lumber jacket shirt under a full, dark beard, is a notice that he's written, "I have no voice today, please bear with me", and I'm laughing inwardly because he has no idea what little meta joke he's propagated.

Torn - yes, someone will be torn - right in half - today.
So I'm torn now - finish the coffee quickly, warm up and get going to work, or sip slowly and let the thoughts settle so I can be efficient and get everything done before meeting the SOCK and his friend. The SOCK offered to throw little feeshies at me like to a trained seal - I'm not sure why, perhaps I'm supposed to do tricks to entertain the friend. It doesn't matter to me. I have no pride - that's why I eschew events like the Whistler thingy what happened this last week - far too lugubrious for me when I could be hitting panic buttons and turning bright screens dark - so as long as the feeshies are fresh, and the aim is good, I'll snap them out of the air like a well-trained seal. I may even clap my fins together.

Last night, I met with CA and DWA and the two boys - very unfair of DWE to call J "jowly jim", takes a bit of nerve actually, and I shan't explain why - he'll just have to reach back to the 2008 entries when I was on a daily diet, and not expressing hunger. In any case, hunger was not in evidence last night as CA and DWA had put out for the Memphis Feast and bits of unhappy animals were being thrown around for CA to chase down. He got every piece too even if they weren't happy barbeque. Just unhappy sentients. Then DWA in a fit of anger and depression over his travel plans (or lack thereof) "It's not fair! I only get to go to Salt Lake City on a direct flight in a small plane - it won't feel like travel at all!", threw a glass of red wine against the kitchen wall and over my bike cap - which is another reason today my head is pink and not nice and toasty.

Panic! Can the molotov cocktails (creme de menthe) be far behind?
Right, I'm really in a panic now because I can't see hide nor hair of the documents I need yet. Oh dear. Right then, perspective even if caffeine-fuelled, tells me that this feeling of panic is normal. It always happens a few days before the due date because you think that you can do better than what you've done, and you think that things are missing (mind you in this case, they really are), and then it's almost impossible to remember everything detail they need/want especially when they spread all their requirements over several different documents.



Okay. Must. Not. Panic.

Instead, what you can't control, you look at with disdain (money follows those that don't care), and what you can control, you do the best that you can in the time allotted and remember in the back of your mind that this is an ice-skating competition, the results are pretty much fixed by circumstances beyond your control, and the chances of an upset are about 2%. So really, why not just start an import - export wine business and grow yeast all the while like some did.

MUST. NOT. GO. DOWN. THIS. PATH.

I've just scuppered my chances for canonisation...
One final thought, I've had this itch to stop shaving ever again. I think it's being in Mr. Bean's establishment, and drinking his coffee - I had this insane urge to lock my bike gears into one  - big and small - instead of using the 24 options I have to fine tune my ride obsessively - then there was thought of tight jeans that barely go over your ankles. I think I've contracted the hipster flu - but I put that down to RP buying clothing that is hipsterish, and telling me about it. One good thing about this putative transformation - it'll be the ultimate in jumping the shark, and will kill the hipster movement once and for all. And for such a good cause, I don't mind sacrificing myself - I might even be anointed as Saint especially since the Pope is stepping down...As RP said, the next one could be  Pio Perculo*



* RP explains, "The name is a play on words...many popes have been called Pio, but is a slightly change from "piglio", which means "I take"... "perculo" could be the equivalent to "the piss" (literally culo is arse)... so the name Pio Perculo would be "take the piss"...just the way Berlusconi makes fun of the people who elected him..."