Of Wanting to Stay Under Covers


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Waking up is the hardest part of my day.

Who would have thought that working seven days a week, going Blues Dancing on Thursday and Friday nights, and occasionally going clubbing on a Saturday would make me a zombie during my workday. It’s no wonder my body doesn’t want to move at 7AM. I find it highly surreal when I’m up and moving, but my breathing pattern is still that of a deep slumber – slow and steady.

Plus, it’s not helpful that I’ve never been a morning person.

So I’m tired. But I’ve always been tired. My whole existence I’ve had the tendency to run myself as thin as possible. But once I get enough coffee in my system and start moving around, I usually perk up. And as long as I get at least 6 hours of sleep, I’m able to function with epic skill. I used to be alert on just 3 hours, sigh, getting old.

Then there’s days like today.

Today I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to go to work. I don’t even want to dance. All I want is to cuddle with a pretty girl while watching musicals and drinking coffee/tea/milk/beer/juice/cider/wine – whatever tasty beverage that’s around will do.

Is that too much to ask?

Of Dead Week

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Why isn’t Dead Week illegal?

I mean, it’s already dead right? So why does it get to torture me to the point of sleepless exhaustion where I too join its deadness by morphing into a zombie-like state?

It’s not fair. Until this point I was balancing my 18 credit course load and my 20-30 hour work week decently. I was actually on time for once, until about three weeks ago when the “bit off more than I could chew” effect started to creep in.

But now it’s here, dead week has arrived! Let’s NOT praise Jesus for this. I get to stay up till 4AM or 5AM almost every night doing homework (2AM is an early bed time – gross). And it’s not because I’m procrastinating, like I usually do, it’s because my time is under a microscope. Sighs. Curses.