At this point, I usually like to pose a open-ended and rhetorical question. It is not meant to be answered; it perhaps can't be definitively answered. However, I'm struggling to find both answers and questions to what is happening in my life. I am at the point of uncertainty—whether that is a real term or not, I know not; however, it fits very well to my circumstances. You must bear with me as I jump around, this piece is not planned, nor am I intending to do much editing past spelling and grammar. It is a true stream-of-consciousness post.
I am listening to a station on Pandora.com created with only one parameter: John Williams. You probably know of him, or at least his music. He is the composer of many of the blockbuster classics, Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Jaws, Harry Potter, and many others. I originally just wanted to listen to filmscores, not necessarily Williams, although I do like many of his scores. It is said film music is where classical music lives on in this age, and I certainly believe it.
I have many choices I can make right now. This is pertaining to my immediate future, hours and minutes, not days or weeks. I could go to sleep. I am sufficiently tired that I think I could find sleep in the elusive and receding darkness of early morning. Normally I would gripe about the amount of 'I's in the last few sentences, but I am not going to change it; this is not a time to deliberate about the appropriate usage of first person.
Sleep—it is not something that is cheap or easily come by for me. My sleep schedule is easy to define: there is none, especially on the weekends. During the week, I am constantly tired when I should not be and fully awake when I should be resting. I have become opposite what people call normal. Pause that thought.
I am watching my desktop's screensaver (writing this on my laptop) and I am fascinated by what beauty math can render. Electric Sheep is the screensaver. As far as I know, it is completely designed and made with mathematical formulas, yet there are many shots that are... other worldly. In the sense that some are breathtaking, some are nearly ugly, others weird, and a few approach perfection. As I think about each, one could describe them as different ways of thinking. Some are bold and to the point; others intricate and complex; some fast moving, some slow; some have one focus, some have none, some have many, some have infinite. Usually, I would look a synonym of "some," but I'll refrain this time. I wonder how my thought process could be modeled by if thoughts could be modeled by a mere computer screen. I imagine it would be a single focus with quick permutations; complex, but either too fast to keep track of, or very slowly changing.
Now I am listening to Bach. Solo cello. Beautiful, but I think I like more instruments. Ah, Indiana Jones. I have all of the film score CDs of that series... I am not entirely certain of the implications that has on my character, but it is the truth.
I listen to a lot of music. I like a lot of different styles. I was going to do a list of what I like—got three entries and decided it would be much better to simply list the styles I do not like. Rap, hip-hop, gospel, most Beattles songs, most of David Bowie, and probably a lot others I cannot think of right now. Mind you, I will tolerate most music.
I would like to skip this particular song on Pandora, but I am certain it will trigger a long and loud advert...
Going back the the sleep topic. I feel tired now. However, now that I am doing something somewhat productive—writing things about my state of mind, which actually may not be that productive—I am very reluctant to cease writing to go to sleep. Why must these lucid thoughts come so close to sleep? It feels like I must rush the thoughts out before they succumb to the tendrils of slumber. Now I sound like one of those poets I studied for World Lit... At least I know I'm not on drugs while I write this.
I've been at this for almost forty-five minutes and I think whatever my goal was, the goalpost has been moved by now. Or I have been walking in circles. I cannot be sure. I am sure that I like this music playing on pandora right now, and that my head is spinning. Why either of those is happening, I do not know. I am glad I can touch type; it means I can close my eyes and type away without having to endure the coming light. Aww, the pretty piano stopped...
Well, I have been at this long enough to eliminate some of my choices about the next few hours. I am tired enough to know I cannot go anywhere. Ah, nice music is back. A psychologist would have a field day with me, I imagine. The main question I have now is whether to continue writing, or to go to sleep. Eventually, the question will be settled for me; there will not be any choice in the matter for me. Given my trouble getting to sleep, that probably is a good thing. It seems I like Rachel Portman's music quite a bit, this is the second, or maybe third, piece of her's I have liked tonight, err, today.
A non-existent sleep schedule means you lose track of what day it is—even day and night are hard to keep track of. You know what time it is, but lose track of where in time you are. I set the alarm clock and hope I awake in time to get to where I want and need to go, and then hope I can stay awake during the event. I feel like a slave to the sleep, never in debt to him for long periods, but always paying dearly. He finds me, I do not find him. He can taunt me, but I can only keep him at bay for a time. He will always extract vengeance for delaying his embrace.
I either do not dream, or do not remember them. This was an unwise topic to breach. Now I am awake and do not truly wish to go to sleep for fear of dreaming a Dream. A Dream is usually terrifying, although they do manifest in beauty at times. The terror is inescapable, the other is fleeting. People die or the Dream tries to kill them, few things happen while being charmed.
Note about this post: This was written sometime in October, during a particularly dreary night when I couldn't find the strength to attempt to sleep. Probably started around 4am and ended around 6:30am, or so. Neither time is especially foreign to me; I have seen the sunrise, with both surprise and groans, many times. No editing was done past simple spelling, what you see is what I wrote.
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