Approaching: systematic shutdown

The play closed on Monday. I had a presentation on a year-long (supposedly) project proposal on Wednesday. I'm supposed to care about religion (which I do on a theoretical level), Gatsby (whom I do on a literary level), and the developement of a photojournalism major (which I do on purposely contingent level).

But really, all in all, I'm a brain dead walking zombie. Please, don't try to stir me or rouse me or wake me. It won't work.

And yet, it's amazing how alive one can appear on coffee and Splenda(TM) and the cold left-overs of Macaroni Grill(R). It's amazing how falsely alive one can be when forced to carry on despite how badly one wants all the world to disappear, and a week-long night to stretch on instead. Honestly, I'm amazed I'm still able to inhale exhale, inhale exhale.

No, no, though. Don't expect much of me next week. If you try, you'll be sourly disappointed in me. If you expect me to read critically through novels and think philosophically about the premature developement on the child's mind in American socity -- and really, just do much more than lie on the couch beside a soft pillow and a warm blanket -- you are completely and utterly mistaken. And if you expect me to engage in chit-chat concerning the greater system of the cosmos, don't. And if you expect me to be human, just let me sleep for a thousand hours all strung together. Maybe then, I'll come alive again.

Maybe.

But don't count too much on that, either. Because we all know I won't sleep much posthence Monday, despite how tired I may even yet become. The holidays aren't for sleeping...

Oh, how true is that!
God save me for Christmas break. Maybe then I can be human again.

Maybe.

-RK