Sleeping still matters. Sometimes more than work, play, school, or family.
Catching Zzz’s sometimes proves harder than mud-wrestling with a seal covered in oil. Not only is it slippery, it is also sad, because the seal (which is unbearably cute) is crying due to the environmental damage of oil spills.
I can’t even tell you how I feel today. I know people around me (my boyfriend included) can survive as a blatantly simple human on <4 hours/sleep during the day and sometimes for weeks. I am most certainly not one of those people, but I am the people who think those people are bat-shit crazy.
I got about… (processing) 4 1/2 hours of sleep last night, went to work at 7, to school at 2, and I get out at 6. Right now it’s 5 pm and I feel like I’ve looked in Medusa’s eyes sometime recently (see: turned to stone, come on myth-nerds!). My neck feels like I’ve been having some sort of sordid, kinky sex (I haven’t), and my back feels like a flower curling in on itself at nightfall. Except it’s not night and I’m not a fucking flower.
I solemnly swear that I will get more sleep especially because of my new work schedule (7 am- 1pm) …
I think it will make me live longer, or something.
And I worked at the Eddy on Saturday, made some $$, and might go back every other Saturday or so, to make some extra cash.
(This is all I can manage for a post today, sorry guys!)