O Canada!

A Complete Guide to the Diagnosis of Sleep Deprivation

1. Subject exhibits a sense of detached euphoria, and may or may not jitter like she has Parkinson's.
2. Subject will unconsciously and furiously clench jaw, often to the point of pain.
3. Subject's extremities, particularly the feet, are cold and sore with reduced capillary reflex.
4. Subject appears to be smuggling large game animals in the bags under her eyes.

Symptoms brought about by the "all-nighter" phenomenon, which is in turn caused by chronic poor judgement and inadequate time management skills. Subject will likely demonstrate a propensity to avoid work through purposeful distraction, overcome only by approaching dawn and deadline.

Treatment as follows:
Sit.
Write.
Write more.
Eat.
Sleep.
Edit.
Write.
Edit.
Edit.

Never take more than 2 doses daily - treatment is to be spread out in the weeks approaching trigger events.

Should treatment fail, beat subject around the head with a big stick.

Yesterday

For most of my life I severely and drastically misunderstood the lyrics of the Beatles' song "Yesterday". You know the part where Paul says "Why she had to go, I don't know, she wouldn't say. I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday"? Well, instead of the correct interpretation, where he says something wrong, I thought he meant he said "something wrong?" and she left him in a passive-aggressive fit of pique, because surely he should already know what was wrong. My version of this song seemed to speak deeply on the troubles of man/woman interaction, how signals are missed to tragic consequence, and how love is a great mystery. Imagine my humiliation when, like a bolt out of the blue, it occurred to me one day that I was making all that up.
Well, at least it wasn't like the first time I tried to sing Blinded by the Light.

And for another peek into the inner workings of my frail and mysterious psyche:

Yesterday night, when I was trying to get to sleep, I had one of those bizarre rage episodes. You know the ones, where you are half asleep but still beyond livid with something, filled with a consuming rage that makes it impossible to function? (Please say you know what I'm talking about, or at least nod soothingly.) This one was centred around a waking dream where there were too many pillows on my bed. Seriously, that's it. I just hated those GODDAMN FRAKKING PILLOWS JUST DIE ALREADY WHY ARE THERE SO MANY STUPID PILLOWS?
I, of course, eventually calmed when I woke enough to realise that I was sharing a bed with just the regular amount, and they were not conspiring to suffocate me.

I'd say it was brought on by being doped up on flu meds, but I don't have any. (In the house, I mean. But right now I'd kill for some. Damn you, bronchitis or whatever!)

Goodnight, my wonderfuls, and may your dreams be happy and pillow-free.