I've been up all night. Why?


For absolutely no good reason!


I took a day off from work today. Should keep life a lot easier. Many a morning I've staggered into work after being out all night. It was never pretty but it was always worth it.

At last, Kenya is getting the praise and recognition it deserves.


I think parts of my brain that have been lying dormant are beginning to awaken. It's painful. Similar to when an arm or leg "falls asleep." Millions of miniscule pins and tiny needles jabbing furiously at a cellular level.


Like that 'cept in my brain.


Good thing I wasn't driving.


Tomorrow, Brian, Kiki, and I are going to listen Crispin Tickle. His name sounds like a band but he's actually some kind of world-renowned environmental biologist. I've been toying with the idea of changing my major from the cut-throat world of linguistics to the tea-and-crumpets world of bio-ethics. I figure hey, I like biology. I like to argue. I really like the idea of cloning the Tasmanian tiger. Who wouldn't want one of these cuddly critters?




Allegedly, Tasmanian tigers were very shy and surprisingly timid. They didn't even struggle when they were captured. In fact, they kinda remind me of myself: Big mouth....sorta striped around the hindquarters there...last seen around 1986...the list goes on.

I am finding it difficult to sleep.


Not difficult to fall asleep, not insomnia; no. If I were to lie back and shut my eyes to imagine tomorrow when I opened them again I would certainly find myself there.


I can't shake this feeling that there was something very important I had to do today and I did not do it. I had this feeling yesterday. I had this feeling the day before that. It's sort of a "Did I leave the oven on?" kind of feeling except that the oven in question is 40 feet tall.


Tomorrow brings work. School. Valentine's Day? Not Valentine's Day for me. I have a date with a textbook and a part-time computer information systems teacher. I should bring candles. Or hey, why not go all-out and grab the wine and the bubble-bath? Nothing wrong with hoping for the best...


That will be my routine until the end of the semester in May. Well, probably not the candles and bubble-bath, but the school-and-work thing certainly. I have already marked my calendar for the day I will quit my job: May 26th, exactly one year from my date of hire. The job isn't bad, the money is good, the hours are reasonable, I hardly notice the Muzak anymore, the dental plan is adequate, the retirement options are sound, and if I had a necktie I would hang myself with it.


I think I'm feeling the way I used to feel when I first started this job. That burning desire to rage against the machine. But to what end? It is an impotent rage, a wild punch at the chin of faceless man.


Now, a kick to the groin of a faceless man would probably get more of a reaction. Heh heh, how's that for a severance package.

12FEB05
0312


The past couple of days have been a blur. Probably because of the fever I've had. One of the last coherent thoughts I had was around 2 am Thursday morning when I wondered "Why is it so cold in here? It hasn't been this cold all winter." I turned up my heater, wrapped myself up in my blankets, and fell back asleep.


I awoke still shivering to the buzz of my alarm clock. I picked myself up, took a shower, dried off, realized that I had done nothing but stand under the water, took a real shower, and then stumbled to my room to find some clothing.


After feeling an overwhelming urge to weep with joy after discovering my pants hanging in my closet, I decided that it might be a good idea to call my work and tell them I was feeling out of sorts and would not be coming into work. Then I tried to fall back asleep.


I succeeded, I think. I remember getting up only once more to drink some water and use the restroom. Sometime after that I had an argument with myself for a good ten minutes. One part of me was certain that I was turning into a zombie, another part of me was certain that it was everyone else that was turning into zombies and absolutely had to be destroyed, and a third part of me was very timidly asking the other parts to hang on a moment and not be too hasty about anything.


And so the time passed.


My fever broke during the second night. I remember feeling very cross because I had finally gotten myself warmed up and now it was getting far too hot.


I whiled away my Friday sipping chicken broth and clear soda. Some of my friends were going to go out dancing. I envied them and imagined a club for feverish people. There would be a very warm room and a very cool room and the bartender would gladly add a shot of vodka to your broth or soda.


I would get thrown out after hallucinating that I was in a space station and desperately running around looking for an escape pod of some sort.