Neptune? (Strange Things Afoot)
Oct. 22nd, 2007 09:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jheti
I've been awake nineteen hours.
It started when I popped awake at 3:30am. I've reached a fun place entitled "Cannot Sleep, Alarm Will GET ME". This fun and special place makes it impossible for me to go back to sleep once I am awake, unless it is a day off and/or a skip day, of which I've had a grand total of three to date in my entire college career, or ten if you count that week and change. I generally don't; it wasn't voluntary, so it shouldn't count.
Honestly? I've always been more of a "cut classes" than "skip school" person, 'cause I basically like school, but sometimes it just gets to where I can't be bothered to scrape up the energy to deal with an annoying/demanding class. So I don't go. Simple. Yeah.
Anyway. "Cannot Sleep, Alarm Will GET ME", so I get ready for school and mess around on the Internet. Omg, I found this semi-shitty fic that I love because it punches a couple of my Fullmetal buttons.
These really should be obvious, but here, I'm on a roll lately, words just pouring out in odd fits, so:
Button: Envy physically subduing Ed.
Button: Ed reborn as Pride.
GIANT GLOWING BUTTON MADE OF PURE WIN: Envy bribing Greed with red stone. Side of heavy-duty subtext.
Seriously. Oh god. *Squirm.* ^_~
And I did other stuff and staggered around trying to get my life together and make coffee and be awesome.
I failed so hard and totally missed the fucking bus.
For some reason, today was the most humid day EVER, ALL YEAR, and I was out at the bus stop ALL SUMMER, so I do know what I'm talking about. So I was totally covered in sweat. Yeah. Tanya has no idea what she's whining about. I was sweating so hard it actually made my skin hurt.
That shit kept rolling into my EYES. I couldn't fucking SEE.
And my shoes were totally soaked through. Not because of puddles or anything, just, there was so much fucking DEW everywhere. So I go squelching back to the house and the car's there.
Stepdad's home! ^_^
He must have driven up just as I turned to run for the stop, otherwise I would have seen him, 'cause it's an intersection. So we just barely missed each other, and he had to unlock the door that I'd locked less than ten minutes before in order to let me in.
It gave me a chance to pick up my cell (I'd forgotten it), but in picking up my cell, I left my lunch.
It's a good thing "lunch" was a bag of Doritos, because I had a test today. Having forgotten that I had a test, I left all my pencils at home--pencils are evil, I really, really, REALLY prefer pens and don't write with pencils ever when I have a choice--and I also left my fill-in-the-bubble sheets at home.
Yes. In college, they make you BUY your own fill-in-the-bubble sheets. They come in these little vending machines. I'm serious. And it's two dollars for a stack of, like, eight of them in a little plastic shrinkwrap bag.
If I had actually bought lunch, I wouldn't have had the money to get the fill-in sheets.
By this time, I haven't eaten except for the chips, nine hours ago. I'm hypoglycemic, and pretty badly. With sufficient provocation, I will go right off the rails at people.
I was hearing a funny ringy-buzzy sound and seeing ripples when I sat down. That doesn't happen A LOT, because usually I eat like normal and seem like a human being, but often enough that I know it's some batshit blood sugar thing and not, like, a stroke or whatever. So I slog my way through my test, answering my essay questions in big huge loopy writing that looks like that stuff fourteen-year-old girls do when they're trying to be cool, 'cause I can't keep my hand steady enough to write small.
I had to borrow a pencil from this one girl, and I didn't Mean Anything by touching her shoulder, I just couldn't talk right.
I sort of weaved in the aisle a little bit when I walked up to turn it in. My prof was like, "Are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah, I just didn't know there was a fill-in vending machine on the first floor, so I ran halfway across campus to the library to use that one and ran back here." *Smile.* "I'll be fine. Have a nice evening. Thanks."
BONUS POINTS because the above excuse was totally true. Last time I ran like that, it was 'cause my neighbors' house was on fire.
So I staggered onto the elevator and out of the building, and burst into tears because the snack machine wouldn't surrender its contents. After some wrestling, I finally obtained what I sought.
Prayer of St. Reese's: Our Pieces, which taste like heaven, hallowed be thy name. *Snerk.*
I made a wish with one and devoured all the others. I was sorely tempted to just lick the inside of the bag. Oh, god, SUGAR. The ringing stopped really soon after that and stuff quit wobbling a few minutes later.
This accomplished, I headed to the restroom.
And there was this girl there, standing at the counter thing near the sinks and sorting through the contents of her bag, up-ended on the counter. Babbling away.
I seriously could not comprehend what she was saying. To me it was nonsensical collections of phrases. I assumed it was because of the huge crash I'd just had, and chalked it up to altered perception. The whole time I was there, so was she, talking a mile a minute, and none of it made one whit of sense.
"And it's the snow, rain, tsunami, it's coming, it'll fucking bury them all and they'll laugh, windows and smiles, never a clue. You know? It's like last week, and trees. They were golden." She paused. "And patience equals genius."
"AMEN," from whoever was in the stall next to mine.
Dizzy, disoriented, overheated and faintly annoyed, I finished up and came out to wash my hands.
This whole time, I assumed that the girl, still riffling through her belongings, was talking to someone on her cell-phone, and that's why she makes no sense. Or, you know, that I was just not comprehending, and she was actually making sense; that's happened to me before.
No cell phone. Not even one of those little ear-bud things. The fact that we all stepped forward to wash kind of agitated her a bit, too, and that's where her dialogue unreeled into phrase salad and it hit me square in the forehead that it is not my hypoglycemia, it is not my brain damage. She IS talking nonsense. She's not well.
I'll be damned, from my college boy character who started narrating in dribs and drabs a few months after my cat died. She's crazy as bedbugs.
One of the cleaning ladies got her some help. I never know what to do, and I was late, and I'm not super-perfectly glued together, myself. Besides, it's been the most bizarro day ever. She probably would've bit my head off or something.
If I were a better person. But I'm not.
I had the strength one time, and I used it, one time, and now I let other people be the hero.
I am exhausted.
My feet were soaking wet for...fifteen hours...today.
I burnt my finger making hot chocolate.
My eyes feel funny.
Sleep, soon.
ETA: Some time when I was not looking (back in September), Robert Jordan kicked the bucket.
I literally just found out.
Fucking weird day.
It started when I popped awake at 3:30am. I've reached a fun place entitled "Cannot Sleep, Alarm Will GET ME". This fun and special place makes it impossible for me to go back to sleep once I am awake, unless it is a day off and/or a skip day, of which I've had a grand total of three to date in my entire college career, or ten if you count that week and change. I generally don't; it wasn't voluntary, so it shouldn't count.
Honestly? I've always been more of a "cut classes" than "skip school" person, 'cause I basically like school, but sometimes it just gets to where I can't be bothered to scrape up the energy to deal with an annoying/demanding class. So I don't go. Simple. Yeah.
Anyway. "Cannot Sleep, Alarm Will GET ME", so I get ready for school and mess around on the Internet. Omg, I found this semi-shitty fic that I love because it punches a couple of my Fullmetal buttons.
These really should be obvious, but here, I'm on a roll lately, words just pouring out in odd fits, so:
Button: Envy physically subduing Ed.
Button: Ed reborn as Pride.
GIANT GLOWING BUTTON MADE OF PURE WIN: Envy bribing Greed with red stone. Side of heavy-duty subtext.
Seriously. Oh god. *Squirm.* ^_~
And I did other stuff and staggered around trying to get my life together and make coffee and be awesome.
I failed so hard and totally missed the fucking bus.
For some reason, today was the most humid day EVER, ALL YEAR, and I was out at the bus stop ALL SUMMER, so I do know what I'm talking about. So I was totally covered in sweat. Yeah. Tanya has no idea what she's whining about. I was sweating so hard it actually made my skin hurt.
That shit kept rolling into my EYES. I couldn't fucking SEE.
And my shoes were totally soaked through. Not because of puddles or anything, just, there was so much fucking DEW everywhere. So I go squelching back to the house and the car's there.
Stepdad's home! ^_^
He must have driven up just as I turned to run for the stop, otherwise I would have seen him, 'cause it's an intersection. So we just barely missed each other, and he had to unlock the door that I'd locked less than ten minutes before in order to let me in.
It gave me a chance to pick up my cell (I'd forgotten it), but in picking up my cell, I left my lunch.
It's a good thing "lunch" was a bag of Doritos, because I had a test today. Having forgotten that I had a test, I left all my pencils at home--pencils are evil, I really, really, REALLY prefer pens and don't write with pencils ever when I have a choice--and I also left my fill-in-the-bubble sheets at home.
Yes. In college, they make you BUY your own fill-in-the-bubble sheets. They come in these little vending machines. I'm serious. And it's two dollars for a stack of, like, eight of them in a little plastic shrinkwrap bag.
If I had actually bought lunch, I wouldn't have had the money to get the fill-in sheets.
By this time, I haven't eaten except for the chips, nine hours ago. I'm hypoglycemic, and pretty badly. With sufficient provocation, I will go right off the rails at people.
I was hearing a funny ringy-buzzy sound and seeing ripples when I sat down. That doesn't happen A LOT, because usually I eat like normal and seem like a human being, but often enough that I know it's some batshit blood sugar thing and not, like, a stroke or whatever. So I slog my way through my test, answering my essay questions in big huge loopy writing that looks like that stuff fourteen-year-old girls do when they're trying to be cool, 'cause I can't keep my hand steady enough to write small.
I had to borrow a pencil from this one girl, and I didn't Mean Anything by touching her shoulder, I just couldn't talk right.
I sort of weaved in the aisle a little bit when I walked up to turn it in. My prof was like, "Are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah, I just didn't know there was a fill-in vending machine on the first floor, so I ran halfway across campus to the library to use that one and ran back here." *Smile.* "I'll be fine. Have a nice evening. Thanks."
BONUS POINTS because the above excuse was totally true. Last time I ran like that, it was 'cause my neighbors' house was on fire.
So I staggered onto the elevator and out of the building, and burst into tears because the snack machine wouldn't surrender its contents. After some wrestling, I finally obtained what I sought.
Prayer of St. Reese's: Our Pieces, which taste like heaven, hallowed be thy name. *Snerk.*
I made a wish with one and devoured all the others. I was sorely tempted to just lick the inside of the bag. Oh, god, SUGAR. The ringing stopped really soon after that and stuff quit wobbling a few minutes later.
This accomplished, I headed to the restroom.
And there was this girl there, standing at the counter thing near the sinks and sorting through the contents of her bag, up-ended on the counter. Babbling away.
I seriously could not comprehend what she was saying. To me it was nonsensical collections of phrases. I assumed it was because of the huge crash I'd just had, and chalked it up to altered perception. The whole time I was there, so was she, talking a mile a minute, and none of it made one whit of sense.
"And it's the snow, rain, tsunami, it's coming, it'll fucking bury them all and they'll laugh, windows and smiles, never a clue. You know? It's like last week, and trees. They were golden." She paused. "And patience equals genius."
"AMEN," from whoever was in the stall next to mine.
Dizzy, disoriented, overheated and faintly annoyed, I finished up and came out to wash my hands.
This whole time, I assumed that the girl, still riffling through her belongings, was talking to someone on her cell-phone, and that's why she makes no sense. Or, you know, that I was just not comprehending, and she was actually making sense; that's happened to me before.
No cell phone. Not even one of those little ear-bud things. The fact that we all stepped forward to wash kind of agitated her a bit, too, and that's where her dialogue unreeled into phrase salad and it hit me square in the forehead that it is not my hypoglycemia, it is not my brain damage. She IS talking nonsense. She's not well.
I'll be damned, from my college boy character who started narrating in dribs and drabs a few months after my cat died. She's crazy as bedbugs.
One of the cleaning ladies got her some help. I never know what to do, and I was late, and I'm not super-perfectly glued together, myself. Besides, it's been the most bizarro day ever. She probably would've bit my head off or something.
If I were a better person. But I'm not.
I had the strength one time, and I used it, one time, and now I let other people be the hero.
I am exhausted.
My feet were soaking wet for...fifteen hours...today.
I burnt my finger making hot chocolate.
My eyes feel funny.
Sleep, soon.
ETA: Some time when I was not looking (back in September), Robert Jordan kicked the bucket.
I literally just found out.
Fucking weird day.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 03:10 am (UTC)I have a feeling I'm going to have a nineteen-hour day, though. There's like a secret extra lab session tonight for the project my partner and I have not finished. The TA will open the lab, get this, sometime after 11 p.m. So when I get the magic phone call from my partner, I get to go back to campus.
YesterdayThis morning, the lab opened at 1 a.m. I had no idea until this afternoon.And, dude, did he manage to finish the Wheel of Time first? I somehow suspect not, and HAHAHA.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 03:35 pm (UTC)AND SO MUCH YES. I have never actually hated air-conditioning before. But I did right then.
The lack of blood-sugar helped me sort of float half-out of my body. That's probably what kept me from killing people. XD
O_o; So what day was it when you two finished up? That's why I start counting hours; the day it is stops making sense.
Dayum. You okay? *Sends good luck. And caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine.*
Actually, he had some kind of degenerative heart thing, and knew he was sick, so he dictated all his notes/backstory/wishes for The Last Book and wrote a chunk of it "in case the worst happens". So there's an army of ghostwriters waiting to finish it up when they get the go-ahead.
He's only been dead about a month; they're probably still wrapping up the funeary/mourners/estate/what do we do now/bereft spousal shit. *Shrug.*
no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 05:16 am (UTC)usually not a problem working with kids
i gather i am going through depression because I sleep for HOURS