Recent Entries Garion born; thinking of doing video logs - 2012-09-01 I'm married, I'm a prospective father, wow I never update - 2012-05-22 Got the job at the NIA; mother complicates wedding plans - 2011-10-13 Scrawl - 2011-08-05 It's never been better - 2011-06-02
|
Resting hole 2002-04-16 - 1:32 a.m. 
Entering my room just now I finally pegged that weird smell: rancid. Not the bitter sour rancid of bad milk...this has more of an earthy, musty smell. It's like a tomb. My little alcove.
Four hours. Four hours to study one lecture, every meticulous point. I thought it would be pleasant to be with people, yet still productive. It just doesn't stop: the little slips, going over the same thing five times, momentarily thinking about something else that passes into five minutes. Matt, Kat, Stephen, just a decent group vibe with low volume musical accopaniment.
Pleasant. What the fuck is wrong with you? You have the exam TOMORROW and you're socializing. You deserve...you fucking idiot, no...but you tried to block it out at least. I'm tempted. Not your fault you can't control it...it just means more pain. Ah sleep deprivation, my twilight fuck toy.
I'm going to stay up until I get through all the notes once. Five more lectures or so. It will go faster, it must go faster, I have to fight against it. I can't give in. Yet when I say it, I indulge somehow. Pathetic if it weren't understandable. Maybe one of these days I can say fuck other people for the moment and sincerely mean it. People should have their time in my head. Why can't I break it, control it? Things keep slipping through my fingers and sand moves through a clenched fist.
Sometimes I wish I didn't know better.
|
