I don’t know what’s going on with me. I’m going a bit nuts. I’m sitting here alternating between elation and despair, for no apparent reason. I’ve spent the last hour, when I could have been productively…er…producing, catching up on then reading back ‘issues’ of Little Red Boat. And at times, not seemingly related to what I’m reading, the world seems wonderful and full of balloons, or it’s just Apokolips in green suspenders. Everyone’s going out and leaving me on my own tonight, and I have no idea whether I’ll happily find something pleasant to wile away my time, or sink into complete and total depression. Both are equally likely.
You know what Channel 4 are showing this evening? The West Wing. The new series I’ve been wanting to see for the lives and deaths of 1,046,287 mosquitoes. Except that it started, with no fanfare (why would anyone advertise the best show on TV), the week I left! So I’ve missed 5 episodes. Thankfully, I bought the DVD box set already and had it shipped to me while I was in the US. Hah. Fooled you all, you scheduling turnips. I win. If there is a better definition of happiness than 24 new episodes of the West Wing sitting in a lovely box all wrapped up in plastic, just waiting to be opened, I don’t know what it is. So I’m going to finish watching my repeats of Series 3, then move onto brand new episodes. Sometimes the world is good.
I got a whole 6 hours of sleep between, your time, 14:00 on Sunday and 05:00 on Thursday morning. Boy did that suck. There’s no point me trying to do anything that involves much brainpower when I’m that tired. Case in point: Me: “Has anyone seen the remote controls?” Mum: “Have you looked on the lounge floor?”. Now, I was sitting on the lounge floor, so what a bloody stupid suggestion. Me: “Yes!”. Mum: “Well try again, they’re right in front of you.” And indeed they were. I spent much of Tuesday and Wednesday nights attempting to think about nothing. That’s really hard. I’m coming to the conclusion that sleep sucks. How do we get to sleep? I have no idea. I did everything I normally do, and was really tired, but nothing. No effect. Zilch. Nada. I hate that. I slept 2 hours on Tuesday night, so you’d think that by Wednesday night I’d be dead to the world. For this reason I bought some ‘herbal sleeping tablets’ yesterday. Control. Yes. That’s what I want. Maybe there’s a magic word that sends you to sleep, but you only remember it if you count all the prime numbers up to 1000, then forget it in the morning. Who knows. Anyway, the tablets worked, thankfully, so I am a *little* more with it today. It may not seem like it, but I am, really. Spacemen.
Half-Life 2 must be soooooooo close now. I even have most of it downloaded already. Not that I’ll be able to play it. My graphics card is now, it would seem, not fit to render pong. Why do I even have the pre-load going? I have no bloody idea. Maybe it makes me feel special. Maybe I am special, but just don’t realise it. Thinking about HL2 reminds me that I *could* play Doom 3 this evening.
Did you see what I just typed? I said that I could play Doom 3 this evening. That wasn’t true. You know why? DO I LOOK COMPLETELY STUPID!? Even total depression is preferable to complete stark terror. We had a new boiler installed while I was away, so the house sounds abnormal. I’d be scared bloody witless. You may be wondering how a computer game could reduce a seemingly
grown-up competent eukaryotic person like me to a gibbering wreck. I suggest you play it, and once you’re out of therapy we’ll talk.
I missed International Talk Like A Pirate Day! Dammit! I’d best go now and find something to eat, before I go completely hyper and decide to iron my ears or something.