Fucking insomnia! I feel like Bill the Cat. I wrote about feeling like Bill the Cat here. This is a pic of Bill the Cat, in case you need visual aid, good reader:
I fell asleep for a few hours and the came awake, startled. I dreamed majorly weird dreams. Bad tone. I dreamed that I was a little golden-colored parrot flying through the streets of New York. I was being chased. Eventually, I was caught and put into a cage for Guinea pigs.
Well, you don’t have to be Sigmund Freud to figure that one out! (BTW, I used to be utterly skeptical of dream interpretation–or the idea that the subconscious really exists. Sounded like a lot of woo supernatural horseshit to me. I BELIEVE IN MATH. Or empiricism. Anyway, I have reversed myself about my position regarding dreams. I kept a dream journal for two years and then did a qualitative analysis on it. The data strongly indicates that my dreams are germane to the problematic issues of my life.)
Arrrgh, now I’m awake and tired but I cannot sleep and there are drunk people on the sidewalk fighting and shouting for cabs and throwing up. I have to give myself a manicure and pedicure for work at THE SUPERSTUDIO tomorrow and my landlord wants his $$$ and I gotta meet grad director in 48 hours and I have to give myself a crash refresher course in Francis Bacon for another student and my little betta fish Rooster needs his water changed and I HATE MY TORSO IT TAKES UP TOO MUCH SPACE and I need health insurance and I am moonbat crazy right now.
What do I do, what do I do? And on that note, I have two and a half college degrees–why am I even living this way?
I am not sober. I need to ramp up my program.