My constitution often gets me in trouble.

At 20, I was shocked to grow an extra half-inch, by that distance I would best my father. Sometimes I feel as though sheer will pushed the vertebrae. I wish I could put the brakes on.

Uncommon spurts of growth are not uncommon. But I find my current age to be a strange one to have suddenly unlocked the tethers around my wrists and unlocked a new level of speed to my typing. Likewise, I cannot explain what has changed that has made programming, for me now a fundamental ease. If only this development wasn't concurrent with an equal perception that coding is inherently, ultimately, a fundamental bore.

I got a Monday-morning tongue-lashing for not working the weekend, which was also boring in that "shut the fuck up, coach" way. Full of middle-age baggage and masked condescension. In order to prove that I was listening, I had to work till 8pm. I can only hope the head pitches I made today were confused for headbanging (god bless in-the-ear headphones).

The only thing not boring about today was the feeling I had about 6pm, when any other 40 hour shifter would escape to their families, vices, or passions. No, for me I was stuck for two more hours. But for some reason, as the rooflights lost their sunsource, my shoulders lightened. I awoke, and time flew, for there was nothing more to grieve for to-day.

Myopic appeaser of my tyrants, I am. Can I go now?