Squarely onset on the morrow of great dread, I felt composed and well mannered for such an egregious spring morning; given my hedonistic predilection with hitting snooze, my day was tardy commencing. Granted my sloth was well received -- avoiding nary the slightest of preoccupance with my educational wasting, I did enjoy the morning rays of sun within through my window shined. I felt concerned today at a coworker's acute critisism that a side interest caught my attention on-the-clock; I cannot work in a lab that caters not to the curious, and so refute the contrary. Nonetheless I felt guilted into appropriating the work time to work henceforth -- did I concede to his balmy concerns too quickly? Indeed perhaps his concern was in jest, merely a conjecture intended to spark conflict, as what might a friendly peer do! Into the darkness the day whispers the fading of the light, so does die another turn of the Earth. Beneath the crust of tomorrow swells my Wednesday, a strong day! But yet I feel compelled to be bleak in my desires; simply cannot I find some pleasure in life? What so, that people can find such happiness in simple things? My emotions swell as though a tempest, succinct to be hidden beneath a quirky exterior, ravished by conservative expectations. *sigh* Be it as always the pull of time forward, nor the excellence of progress. Burning within the fires of time, it's merely another person at high disdain in his own lack of accomplishment.