(no subject)
For sundry, unpleasant reasons, the familiar trek concluding a weekend at home down south does not begin until well after 10:00 PM. I drive alone; only my not-flamboyant purple bag sits in the passenger seat next to me. It does not offer up conversation or periodically produce a startling noise to make sure I'm awake. Drowsiness becomes a dire problem. There is a nagging heaviness in and behind my eyes as I drive, and the road and sky sometimes coalesce into one dark, amorphous creature. When it vanishes, I have inevitably begun to deviate from the road onto a path blazed by some cruel and omnipotent creature that concludes either in front of an oncoming semi or at the base of a tree.
To combat these uncanny foes, I first try to employ periodic breaks at rest stops involving walking about, going to the bathroom, and getting a drink. This only works once. On the second effort, it becomes painfully clear that I've reached such a degree of lethargy that walking about saps my flagging reserve of energy rather than allowing me to tap into it. I try singing, and this works marvelously. It only works if I know the lyrics to the song; improvisation ruins the effect. At first I am embarrassed, for no "good" songs come to mind whatsoever. For this I reprimand myself: "This is survival, not American Idol. Suck it up." I belt out whatever songs I can scrounge from memory and instantly feel wonderfully alive and awake. As time goes on, it becomes so much easier to remember songs.
"...Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars..."
"...You had to be a big-shot, last night, had to open up your mouth..."
"...Ryuusei no ai ga kimi ni, isshun no hikari okuteru, yeah..."
"...You can call me jolly rancher 'cuz I stay so hard, you can suck it for a long time oh-my-God..."
Don't ask me what the Japanese lyrics mean, I have no idea. Judging by some of the egregious Engrish in many of the following verses, the song's author does not either.
About a hundred miles from home, I realize that I have once again left behind my toothbrush and related paraphrenalia. The Romans left behinds roads and bridges and aqueducts with those nifty arches. Where I've been, you can often find a toothbrush, biotene mouthwash, and dental floss. There are many derelict pairs of toothbrush and toothpaste scattered throughout Florida. Most of the time, there is one of my toothbrushes everywhere except where I need one. In that case, I'm usually lucky enough to find someone with a spare. Sometimes, I unexpectedly find a toothbrush stranded long ago in my time of need, and there is a joyous reunion. So much more often is the case that several toothbrushes accumulate in one place and thus are unceremoniously consigned to dust. The situation is utterly ridiculous; their proliferation is an irritating testament to my absentmindedness.
To combat these uncanny foes, I first try to employ periodic breaks at rest stops involving walking about, going to the bathroom, and getting a drink. This only works once. On the second effort, it becomes painfully clear that I've reached such a degree of lethargy that walking about saps my flagging reserve of energy rather than allowing me to tap into it. I try singing, and this works marvelously. It only works if I know the lyrics to the song; improvisation ruins the effect. At first I am embarrassed, for no "good" songs come to mind whatsoever. For this I reprimand myself: "This is survival, not American Idol. Suck it up." I belt out whatever songs I can scrounge from memory and instantly feel wonderfully alive and awake. As time goes on, it becomes so much easier to remember songs.
"...Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars..."
"...You had to be a big-shot, last night, had to open up your mouth..."
"...Ryuusei no ai ga kimi ni, isshun no hikari okuteru, yeah..."
"...You can call me jolly rancher 'cuz I stay so hard, you can suck it for a long time oh-my-God..."
Don't ask me what the Japanese lyrics mean, I have no idea. Judging by some of the egregious Engrish in many of the following verses, the song's author does not either.
About a hundred miles from home, I realize that I have once again left behind my toothbrush and related paraphrenalia. The Romans left behinds roads and bridges and aqueducts with those nifty arches. Where I've been, you can often find a toothbrush, biotene mouthwash, and dental floss. There are many derelict pairs of toothbrush and toothpaste scattered throughout Florida. Most of the time, there is one of my toothbrushes everywhere except where I need one. In that case, I'm usually lucky enough to find someone with a spare. Sometimes, I unexpectedly find a toothbrush stranded long ago in my time of need, and there is a joyous reunion. So much more often is the case that several toothbrushes accumulate in one place and thus are unceremoniously consigned to dust. The situation is utterly ridiculous; their proliferation is an irritating testament to my absentmindedness.