Tip of the Day: Never make a collage while deprived of sleep. Odds are the next morning you will question your sanity.
Hyper thoughts, sagging eyelids, dilated pupils with the reflection of a blank word document imprinted in the black orbs. This is me… in the dark… in front of my computer… at 4:00am. Who needs sleep, right? I am sure that is exactly what I will be thinking when I have to get out from under the comfort of my blanket and into the shower in about two hours. I can only imagine myself looking like a bug as I sit here hunched over my laptop, cat at my side cursing me in her dreams and swearing for everlasting vengeance. Yea, she’s asleep. But she’s cute when she’s asleep, so I pet her anyway. With a face plant to her soft belly she just stretches, utters a curse word in the façade of a purr, and rolls back over to dream about murdering me in some giant mouse trap. –insert foreshadow of karma here-
So, what’s keeping me awake, you finally ask after a long, painful, and awkward pause? There’s an annoyed sigh in your breath, but one of my natural flaws is the obliviousness of other people’s disinterest in what I have to say. But, then again, why are you here, right? There’s a red ‘x’ at the top of your screen if you ever lose interest.
There was a time when sleep came naturally to me… you know… like it’s supposed to. Those days seem to be gone, though. Come college, come sleep deprivation, yes? I’m sure a few of you can relate to this torture. Let me tell you about my past few weeks’ worth of sleep. It’s practically nonexistent.
It all started about a month ago with possibly the worst nightmare I have ever had. Believe me, if Freddy and Jason had received an invitation, they would flee in horror. I woke up shaking in my sleep. I have discovered that an ironing board and steam is NOT the only way to iron a shirt (though, granted, the results vary greatly in approval). I think to myself, oh, it’s just a dream. With a reassuring nod I roll back over and after an hour or so I doze off. I wake up again to another nightmare, confused as to why the sun is so slow. Oh, no. It’s not quite that simple, my friend. I look at the clock and its ‘5:00am’ eyes are staring back at me. We glare at each other for a moment and I moan before rolling over again. I fall asleep much quicker this time. Again, I opened my eyes. I turned to my alarm clock and it glared at me like a savage dog. On its face smiled a large green five, a blue colon, followed by a red four and an orange five. I will never forget those numbers.
This endless torture continued for several weeks. On the good nights that I was not awoken by a dream at 5:00am, I had the wonderful Hollywood
to thank for my…purrsonal
…alarm. Something must wake her up at this ungodly hour, or she’s sadistic enough to find time in her circadian rhythm to piss me off. Oh… right… that’s called karma
. She repeats the word in my ear in a loud purr and smacks it in my face and kneads on my chest.
Well, we’ll skip forward a little as most of the torture in between is simply too repetitious to serve any Schadenfreude
people any amount of pleasure.
A collage in Art Appreciation is due TODAY. I am working hard at 9:00pm with graphite on my face and a couch piled with office supplies. There are magazines, scissors, glue sticks, tape, string, cotton… not sure what that is there but it could look good on a collage! One hours…two hours…three hours…FINISHED
The next morning I am woken up by my mom… thirty minutes before my Mid-Term Art Project is due in class. Yes. I woke up at 9:00am after I forgot to set my alarm with a class at 9:30am. Thankfully, my mom, who stayed home sick, happened to wake up and notice that I had not left for class. I jump from the bed, wipe the pencil smudges from my face, wash the paint off my hands, do the other necessities, and rush out the door just in time to make the roll. SAFE