third wind

I've got no idea just how this auxiliary subsection of my personality has managed to take over, and thrive for the past couple of hours.

I conquered the hellishly long word day with aplomb. And with only two hours of sleep to go on. So I feel like everything turned out okay, in that respect. When I got home from Apple I was resolved to eat, and immediately sleep.

But SNL turned out to be funny, so I stayed up and watched it with my parents. My dad went to bed, I had a cigarette, then went up to the computer, intent only on blogging about my conquest of today, and then sleeping my big gay ass off.

It didn't end there. I'd left Wikipedia up at some point earlier in the day. It sucked me straight in. I've felt like a zombie, hopelessly aquiring useless information just for the hell of it, slowly finding that I didn't need to fight off sleep. The urge started to fade by itself. And while I've been catching myself about to commit more and more typographical sins, I feel more readily conscious than I did a couple hours ago.

I don't feel like there can be any healthy explanation for that.

I do know I finished at least one REM cycle during my micro-nap this morning, which might have allowed me to survive the day at Signius with relatively few mistakes. And I know the Red Bull allowed me to survive Apple. But as for now, I refuse to believe that an episode of SNL can serve as metaphysical fuel. All I know is, this third wind feels disconcerting, to say the least.

I feel like my body and mind are at odds with each other. My mind knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I should be asleep. And I think my body knows that too. But for some reason, it's not listening. It's just doing its own thing. It's not the first time that's happened, of course- but this is one of the only instances in recent recollection where it's happening for no particular reason. Given the current circumstances, my concsciousness serves absolutely no purpose.

Random aside: Why the crap is it 42 degrees outside? Isn't May, like, Monday?? I don't know. I feel like I shouldn't be able to see my breath without the aid of a cigarette. That and, for some reason, it smells like autumn out here. That's kinda depressing.

I don't know why it's depressing. My first instinct is to type, "I feel like, in order to appreciate that smell, I need a tumultuous summer of accomplishment, folly, and emotion in general to look back on." Which I guess makes sense. What I don't get is, my summers usually aren't that much different from the rest of the year, except the weather makes me happier by default. Hell, if you compare my relatively idle summer of 2005 to the winter/spring of 2006... well, you've got sloth in one hand, and ambition in the other.

Although if I look at this past winter, despite financial woes and boy trouble, I remember it as having been a whole lot more fun than a lot of ones in the past. And I think I can trace that back to the night of the Apple X-mas party, when all of us piled in the van, went down to DC, and let loose for an evening. It brings back memories of when we all lived at the diner, and the hectic holiday shopping rush had us effectively working together constantly, and playing together constantly. Of course, the circumstances of one's life tend to change, and things have largely returned towards what I'd call the baseline. I don't know. I'd go looking through iPhoto, but I'd probably get a little misty. At least inwardly.

I think I'm going to try sleep now, because I can't think of anything else I feel competent enough to communicate.

(DB) out.