Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sleep (But Were Afraid to Ask)
My sleeping schedule is the most out-of-whack it's been since the summer before I started college. The last few days have been completely off sync with the rest of the world. Beginning with my 2nd Thanksgiving my parents cooked up for me last Thursday (since I was in NYC during the real Thanksgiving). That was great of them to do. It was fucking delicious and all that jazz but for some reason I was up almost all night that night, writing and whatnot. Then on Friday, slept through work, dicked around for a while, met Jeff and Quentin for some Chinese, then filmed the rest of Jeff's movie til 7 in the morning (!!!) Saturday with Mo along for the ride as well. Holy shit, we were all dying by the end of the shoot. I haven't been that deliriously tired in a long, long time. We're talking "intoxicatingly" sleepy. I just know it's gonna show in the footage, too, which sucks, but hopefully it won't detract from the finished product. (Can't wait to see it, Jeff!!) Once again, though, we laughed for the stupidest, STUPIDEST reasons and that stalled us a bit, but that's all part of the fun, huh?
Anyway, so I dozed at Quentin's at around 7. Woke up at 1:00 on Saturday, went straight home, got ready for the DUFF job, went to Prosper's, met up with the other servers/waitress/kitchen peeps, and packed into two cars for Geist. The party was the usual madness it's been for the past 5 years. It does get smoother every year, but oh my fucking god, I was in pain. LITERALLY, after helping set up tables and other bullshit for 3 hours, I was standing, in front of the sink, washing dishes for 12 hours. Guys, 12 hours. Can you fathom that? I know there are people out there with more terrible, torturous work to do for much, much longer intervals of time. I mean, hell, cole miners get all my respect in the world. That's life-threatening, miserable, MISERABLE work, but let me tell you... if hell exists, which it doesn't in my book, so nevermind... I just... wow. Let's say I die, and some sort of judgement is passed on me by some sort of god-like entity and I end up having to pay for some sort of wrong-doing... my "hell" will be, simply, to wash dishes for eternity. But it won't be all that bad, because during my life on earth, I lived that "hell" once a year for 5 years (or more, we'll see). (Feel free to chime in on some traumatic work experiences in the comments, folks. I only know for sure of one person who reads this that has experienced what I'm talking about... that'd be you, Jeff.)
Anyway, got home at around 6 in the morning Sunday and As Good As It Gets was on TV. Of course, I got hooked, watched almost all of it and ended up sleeping on the couch til 1 in the afternoon. Blah blah blah, fell asleep at around 8 or 9... then woke up a few hours ago thinking it was time to go to school.
There ya have it. I don't even know why I just wrote this entry. If I didn't have a LiveJournal, it would never even occur to me that anyone gives a shit about my sleeping schedule aside from a brief mentioning of it in conversation with someone, so... why the hell did I just write all that?? Fuck it. Later folks.
Anyway, so I dozed at Quentin's at around 7. Woke up at 1:00 on Saturday, went straight home, got ready for the DUFF job, went to Prosper's, met up with the other servers/waitress/kitchen peeps, and packed into two cars for Geist. The party was the usual madness it's been for the past 5 years. It does get smoother every year, but oh my fucking god, I was in pain. LITERALLY, after helping set up tables and other bullshit for 3 hours, I was standing, in front of the sink, washing dishes for 12 hours. Guys, 12 hours. Can you fathom that? I know there are people out there with more terrible, torturous work to do for much, much longer intervals of time. I mean, hell, cole miners get all my respect in the world. That's life-threatening, miserable, MISERABLE work, but let me tell you... if hell exists, which it doesn't in my book, so nevermind... I just... wow. Let's say I die, and some sort of judgement is passed on me by some sort of god-like entity and I end up having to pay for some sort of wrong-doing... my "hell" will be, simply, to wash dishes for eternity. But it won't be all that bad, because during my life on earth, I lived that "hell" once a year for 5 years (or more, we'll see). (Feel free to chime in on some traumatic work experiences in the comments, folks. I only know for sure of one person who reads this that has experienced what I'm talking about... that'd be you, Jeff.)
Anyway, got home at around 6 in the morning Sunday and As Good As It Gets was on TV. Of course, I got hooked, watched almost all of it and ended up sleeping on the couch til 1 in the afternoon. Blah blah blah, fell asleep at around 8 or 9... then woke up a few hours ago thinking it was time to go to school.
There ya have it. I don't even know why I just wrote this entry. If I didn't have a LiveJournal, it would never even occur to me that anyone gives a shit about my sleeping schedule aside from a brief mentioning of it in conversation with someone, so... why the hell did I just write all that?? Fuck it. Later folks.