Mismatched jigsaw pieces

There is a man in front of me on the bus with his fly undone. With his arms outstretched to reach the handles above my head, and the fact that my head is precariously level to his crotch, it feels a little obscene and deliberate. Though I can tell from his unknowing demeanour that it is in fact inadvertent, I still feel the need to shield my eyes a little and pretend to be exceedingly fixated on my left shoulder.

It surprises me what surprises me these days.

Off key reggae sung along to the clanking of tin cans seeping through my kitchen window from the alley below seems as natural as the hum of the washing machine. 

Yet, today I was shocked by the sight of teenagers. Living amongst low rise character apartment buildings and overpriced grocery stores, one almost disregards this demographic. I haven't even the slightest clue where the nearest high school is located. As such, as I stepped onto the train platform at the mall exit, I was nearly overwhelmed by the seas of giggle, sighs, pouts and skinny jeans. Is it possible that I actually forgot that they existed?

***

If I could sum up my life, and consequently my state of mind these days, the one most suitable word would be scattered. My thoughts are like jigsaw pieces all from different puzzles. Pulling together coherent stories feels like trying to force the pieces to fit, fraying the edges in the process, pretending to ignore the obvious gaps, professing that the bits of the schooner do indeed interlock with the snippets of the basket full of kittens.

The notion of focusing on twelve separate things at once (aka. the very essence of my PhD program) really defeats the entire notion of focus. As such, by the end of the day, I find myself utterly exhausted, yet restless-- my body doesn't want to move, but my mind can't stop moving, skipping from one topic to the other, yet not pausing long enough to focus or elaborate on any of them. 

It's like I'm operating in point form, rather than sentences-- let alone my usual paragraphs.