A series of many brackets and digressions

The subject of my discomfort (or rather the many subjects ) in past month or so , that have drained me ,are finally over . Well unofficially at least , I do have a paper or two left (hardly significant ones , if that makes sense ) so to me , exams are over . And now , time stretches before me and so does the blueberry muffin that happily sits on a saucer next to me . And for some strange reason , I feel like some weird bystander to my life where I can hear a narration but wonder why this voice sounds so calm , so on top of things . This strange thought occurred to me last night at about 23:30 (according to the clock that was nearby ) when I sat in a rub of lukewarm water , shivering and furiously shampooing my hair . The night before a big exam and I was washing my hair , for the second time that day , and close to midnight . The logic is clearly not there . But then , is anything really illogical when you are panicking about the most frivolous thing and a very serious thing , simultaneously . Obviously I mixed my priorities up . The exam meant less to me , than the fact that my whole scalp (freakishly and for the secoond time in my life actually ) had broken out into "violent" dandruff . Stress-ruff I think it should be called . Which , is weird for someone like me who has an oil rig ( I reckon the issue of high oil prices could be solved by my forehead alone ) for skin . Obviously , someone up There has a sense of irony and humor . I mean , obviously ... But I'm not complaining . I mean , it's one of those things you have to have happen , to realize how utterly stupid I can be . And , I'm actually quite shocked at how moronic I must have looked and how helpless I felt . Its this weird sensation that nothing makes sense . It was late and I wanted my bed , I wanted the words on the page to actually make some sense and more than anything , I wanted time to just .... Slow down . And as petty as the problem of an exam and bad hair may seem , in the grand scheme of life , when you're crying in that bathtub , it's pretty serious . Its the impending fear of failure , that you're not good enough , that everything might just crumble down . I had never felt so unprepared , so it was unwelcome that my hair ( which I had cut over the weekend) had suddenly become Narnia (when Lucy first stumbled into that closet , personally I think she just found one of those closets that belong to those heiresses and the owner happened to be in it . With her illegal pet lion ) {and again , I go off on a tangent } . Anyway , the point is , hats are vital in ones life . Unless you go to my school , where uniform infringement akin to killing an infant with dimples (apparently dimples render them perfect , also I have a sister with dimples so I've been told all my life about how amazing dimples are , let's be honest ... It's a muscle defect ) . And the fact that I couldn't really hide this outbreak , was mortifying . Oh fickle I've become , it must be all this learning . It must be the regurgation of the constant garbage we're fed about being a certain way all the time . I should seriously consider becoming some form of a social outcast so I don't have to care about it all .... But caring is actually a lot less effort than constantly having to justify myself and all that . Not that I mind , I enjoy a good arguement regarding why being Atypical , is so much more rewarding than being some sad copy . But when exhausted , it's frightfully trying to explain to the goon addressing me that enunciation of words , does not constitute me trying to conform to some "other" race, but merely me doing justice to the education I was blessed with . But to try to explain that concept to some (and there really is no other word for this ) idiot who feels that throwing slang and obscenities , means he has "swag " ( whatever that may be ) . If I'm being honest , I pity , nay , I look down upon those girls who feel that what they need ( and I stres the word ) a man who has adopted this deranged , lunatic idea of what class is . Not good manners and values but the they wear their pants at their ankles , they swear like sailors and refer to their "women " ( note there are multiple partners ) as female dogs . It's a pet peeve , but again I have digressed into a puddle cottonwool and orange concentrate (another story for another time ) . In Essence , when in doubt , wash it out . Go to school where you can hide your bad hair days and lastly , for God's sake , don't fall into that trap of trying to be "swag" ( I seriously need someone to explain that to me m it's slightly moronic at the moment ) . So after many brackets and distractions , I've reached a very half-baked conclusion ....