The skin of the teeth

In my pretend life as a university student, this is an especially bad time of year.

I say pretent because being a student is not really like being in the "real world". (And for the record, this is no time to talk about simulacra, Baudrillard or anything that is "realer than real." I don't care.) It's this bizarre state of being where the work is never done, there is no time off and you can't tell your boss to fuck off because they're grading you. Which is not unlike a real job, but instead of getting paid to put up with the working conditions, we pay them AND go into debt for the privilege.

Anyway, for all my complaining, I'm planning on going back for morel next year, once this degree is finished. There is something still more palatable than the real world, even if university requires me to put up with a lot of bunk.

In my capacity as editor and project manager, this is a little homage to my colleagues who are working (perhaps desperately) this weekend to meet deadline after deadline that I am personally not responsible for, but must enforce. I KNOW YOU'RE SICK OF IT! I KNOW THERE'S NO TIME! I KNOW YOU'RE AT THE END OF YOUR ROPE.

Believe me, I feel what you're feeling. And I'm symapthetic. And I have no answers; I don't know the way out except to finally get to that day where it's just all done.

Hang in there.