Last night, after a very LONG and challenging day, I fell asleep.
No, really...
After a late dinner, while my dad was visiting in the very same living room, I fell asleep. At 7:30 pm. And I slept all night long. I slept the sleep of the dead, and woke at 5:30 am to find myself?
Tired.
Will there never be a morning that I wake up ready for the day? Where I climb from my bed, wipe the slumber from my bleary eyes and think: Good morning! I couldn't sleep one more wink? Why is the necessary condition of adulthood sleep deprivation? I swear that after an entire day in the academic life, of challenging my brain to acrobatic feats of theory and conjecture, after stuffing it full of all that the world has to offer - it doesn't turn off. I'm becoming convinced that while my body sleeps, my mind twists and turns, reformulating, assimilating and regurgitating those concepts into understanding. So that when I wake, I am aware of the simplicity of these theories, aware of their relationship to WHICH EVER essay I'm working on - asking myself new questions while more sophisticated arguments are spinning from the yarn of yesterday.
But, DAMMIT. I'm tired. And I don't care!
Wishing to sleep the sleep of the insane...
DAG.
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