Spoons are the ultimate eating tools

MMmm. Spoons.

Another week

And so much more alcohol. Really I cannot wait for this year to be over, going from health fascist to smelly derelict has been a hard and tiering process. I've only got two more days left at my current place of employment and the new year does hold great promise for betterment in pretty much conceivable category.

Aim is to move to Oslo, get a better job, meet new people and pull myself back together. Which means chaning back to a more constructive and less alcohol related lifestyle. Put the focus back on the body etc. It's going to be a hard couple of months at the (a new one) gym to get back to where I was towards the end of the summer. The upside is that I'm bristling with motivation.
My level of self loathing eventually reaches a fulcrum, I know since previous episodes of similar states of mind, and I'll swing back towards my previous sense of character and start acting accordingly again. Then again this autumn has been the most extreme episode as of yet. I've been throughly self destructive.
If I did not feel this blooming desire to do something about my situation I'd be seriously worried, yet certainty that I'll swing back instills confidence. Then yet again that might be a thing to consider in and of itself, I do tend react with a corresponding level of force to any issue I encounter. Pulling myself together from my current state is going to be a fast process. Which by implication means that I'm going to be rather harsh with myself coming the new year. It's got nothing to do with any sort of new years resolution, for me it's rapidly becoming an urgent psychological necessity to climb back up and seeing how far I feel I've fallen...

There is a lesson in this too, I don't particularly regret the way things are as I have a brighter tomorrow in front of me. The path is set and all that, it's just the work that remains and that comes much easier. The lesson I'm thinking of is that sometimes good thing come from firstly 'falling' a bit so to speak. For me I needed a great big kick in the balls from good ol' fate to get me going somewhere. When I think about it being stuck in wretched monotony at my now thankfully former workplace (even dissregarding the direct physical impact such as losing A LOT of weight and feeling like crap as soon as I wake up in the morning) that would probably be the worst thing I could do.

I'm off running towards the rising sun again, and with a bit of luck I'll find a happier tomorrow.

What about tuesday?

Firstly, I called in sick. I'm not sure if this is dishonest behavior on my part or what not since I'm feeling so much like a pile of crap that I can't even tell if It's my psychology messing with me or if my stomach is subject to an actual infection.

So what do I do? I go down and get a piercing. A metal stud through the eyebrow: A momentary distraction from psychological pain. Too bad it didn't last longer. Funny how the collective of mind and body tend to let physical pain override mental anxiety. Must be an evolutionary advantage in there.

Secondly, I've imbibed alcohol yet another night of the week, which makes for a total of let's see... four of the last seven. I don't think I should be worried yet but one does come to think of spare time alcoholics. New situations begets new understandings.

More precisely I went out and had a couple of beers with Viktor. Had a great time all in all. We got our fair share of complaining (well that was mostly me) and nostalgia out of it. Then I come home (time of this post) and my monstrous Winamp playlist tosses this song at me:

Puddle of Mud - She hates me

Met a girl
Thought she was grand
Fell in love
Found out first hand
Went well for a week or two
Then it all came unglued

In a trap
Trap I can't grip
Never thought I'd be the one who'd slip
Then I started to realize
I was living one big lie
She fuckin' hates me
Trust
She fuckin' hates me
La la la love
I tried too hard
And she tore my feelings like I had none
And ripped them away

She was queen for about an hour
After that, her shit got sour
She took all I ever had
No sign of guilt
No feeling of bad, no

That's my story
As you see
Learned my lesson
And so did she
Now it's over
And I'm glad
Cuz I'm a fool for all I said

I laughed, and laughed and then laughed some more upon hearing this.
Is this the workings of a talented songwriter able to jizz out something a lot of people can relate to or is it another sign that my current mental state truly is a stereotypical one?
Don't know, don't care, but by coincidence finding something so applicable to my current situation plus the fact that it's a mainstream oriented song amuses the hell out of me.

My personal pain ain't special. If I walk down the street getting honest answers out of people about their romancing experiences I'll find that what I feel ain't NOTHING new. People will say 'bin there done that'.
And the irony of that again makes me laugh, and laugh and laugh.... all the way to sleep.

Some quotes in my native tongue.

"Du är bara bitter för att du klantat dig med min bil, jag dissar dig och du har blivit av med jobbet....jag är ledsen för att du beter dig så jävla barnsligt just nu"

"Du är en sån där människa man bara mår dåligt av att träffa"

"Jag stör mig bara så mycket på så många av grejerna du gör"

"Så jävla pinsamt att du ringde och skämde ut dig förut, jag hade ju smsat till dig att jag inte ville bli störd"

And she thinks I'm mean to her.
And why do I hurt so easily?

Loss of appetite

I really don't know if it's the stress, current state of unhappiness or some actual sickness that's been gnawing away all of my appetite these last few days.
Neither alternative is very heartening since I find it gravely disturbing that me feeling like a discarded toy may actually have a real physical impact on my poor poor body.

I find myself thinking of Jake Gyllenhaal's character in Jarhead, I usually have a standard solution for when physically feeling like a piece of crap (no will to eat = no calories = no energy). For example: If sick, then rest and eat as much as you can. Go back to the gym, take it easy and slowly recover.
But now, I feel sick because my current state of min reflects badly on my body. I want to scream at my pituitary to stop stimulating the release of stress hormones but I just can't bring my psychology around to complying with my rational state of mind. It sucks not to be the boss inside ones own head.
Now I've felt depressed before, but never like this, and it scares the shit out of me. Still I'm not worried that I won't recover and end up as a sad broken shell of a man. It's not that bad.

What I'm saying is simply that I think I start to understand how people can lose the will to go on with their lives in any direction. I understand how someone might just lay down and give up.
That state is still far far away for me personally. I'm just saying that I've glimpsed a fraction of it towards the other end of the valley next to the future sunshine I hope for.

Knock Knock

I really need to meet a girl that's insane in the same sense I am.
Cuz' when I meet ones that's of a wholly different brand of crazy then someone gets hurt. Usually me.

Delicious Venting (Part 1)

The last two weeks have consisted of some of the worst days of my life. This is not an understatement. I need to vent.

.....but instead of venting and in doing so, by all that which is probable, end up regretting posting something all too personal in a decisively public place I think I'll write about a related topic in a wholly unrelated way.

Adam is going to talk about sex.

So what about it? Everybody wants it, some of us have it and some are scared by it. Regardless of which category one belongs there lies a constant at the bottom of it. Sex frustrates everybody.

I'm 19. I state this because it underlines the fact that I by no means have some sort of sagely knowledge on the subject.

However I do feel that I'm sufficiently experienced to tell the difference between good sex and the kind you wish to commit ritualized suicide after having the displeasure of experiencing. Apart from this fact I think that I know something about all of the different positions (no pun intended) one can view the sex-issue from.

I'm horny as hell, which certainly means that I know about wanting it. I occasionally have it which means that I've managed to get a taste of the varying complications that ALWAYS seem to spring from it. Which incidentally are the same complications that often have me scared shitless. Thus I want it, have it and am scared by it.

Wanting sex is only natural right? I mean there's absolutely no sense to fighting your biology and biology has sex pinned right next to eating and taking a shit. Let's face it we're built for it. Denying it is the same as denying a part of our humanity which is an issue that's in itself a huge bag of worms. Sex needs, like most things, needs to be approached with the understanding that it's a part of everyone and that no amount of denial will change it. Let's just accept it and build from there.

So how does one build from the fact that I as a human being both want and need sex?
If I'm pretty, I can get drunk stumble and fall with my reasonably turgid meatrod (alcohol can do this or so I am told) into a more or less pretty and more or less drunk fellow human being. A night on the bar is as we all know a socially perfectly acceptable way to spend some or most of the days of the week and intercourse with a perfect stranger either above you or below you on the scale of of pruettyness is an undeniable source of amusement for either the own ego or that of your like-minded friends.
If I'm ugly I've been recently blessed with the introduction of free internet porn that any fourteen year old with half a brain can dive into in drink until it spills out again through every orifice.

Let's stop here. I just want to state that I'm freakishly aware that I'm a presumptuous ass for suggesting that everyone fall into one of the two above mentioned categories. Generalizing people into the ugly and the beautiful when considering what's politically correct is a huge no-no so before you start sharpening your various lynching accessories stop to consider that I may actually have a point.

I myself have occasionally ventured into either of the two avenues outlined above and what I've discovered is they both lead the afore mentioned frustration.
At least for me neither of the two paths lead to much satisfaction. The first path firstly leads to the kind of crappy sex that makes you want to put a very sharp blade into you abdomen and watch as you guts curl up in funny ways in places they just don't belong. Secondly there's probably nothing worse than waking up next to something you just don't want closer than ten feet away and fully clothed.
About porn I think there's much reason to dislike it because of the inherent lethargy of it. How can watching people do something that you yourself would kill to experience ever measure up to actually doing it yourself.
I sound overly judgmental, not all one night stands need to be horrid experiences and I don't cry myself to sleep after watching Rocco violate some east european girl.
But the point is this, by pursuing a fundamental need people get in all sorts of shitty situations not to mention states of mind. We've taken care of the problem of having a constant food supply and we've introduced water toilets yet we just keep complicating sex.









I'm going to continue this I promise. But for now I'll finish with a personal statement underlining just how fucked (oh the puns) my own personal view on sex can be:

I love women. I love sex. Obviously I want good sex.
Yet I do not like women that know have to have good sex.
Because the fact that they know how to have it, disturbs my sensibilities.

Contradictions cause conflict, and within the own mind they led to pain.

Goodnight.

I can't believe....

It's been another whole month. Time's got wings I tell ya. When there's nothing memorable to weigh it down it just goes and steals another month from my life here on this little blue ball.

Last Saturday I passed by Uppsala (City) on my way to Arlanda (Airport). And since I have a couple of former classmates living there I brought my fluffy red-haired friend Olle along and dropped in for a visit. Visits like this one tend to make the beast of anxiety called nostalgia sprawl within my chest. By seeing my old friends, I reflect upon the life I had before contrasted by the life I now lead. I don't feel that there's anything strange about this. I am sure most people put in similar situations would agree.

I feel like I'm being tugged between what's old and what's new. Something something. I'll try to finish this when I'm sober and in a more controlled state of mind.

As for the medieval people mentioned in my last post, I think that they must be truly enigmatic in their nature. On one hand they receive infinitely less stimuli than a modern day man. On the other, they must be more absorbed in the things that are directly relevant to their day to day existence. Fewer problems, (will the crops grow, will the local lord rape my daughters?). And also fewer joys. He can't get any instant gratification from picking up a new Ipod in the mail now can he?

Which raises the interesting question, does this make his joys and hardships more profound? Starvation is clearly a greater hardship than buying a couple of jeans of the wrong size, not much question about that. So what's interesting about the question is the part about his joys. Is the joy and pride he feels over his children for example more profound than the joy of an equally committed modern day man feels? Because his joys are not diluted by Ipods and whatnot?
Reflection is key, maybe the capacity for joy for one man is limitless but still his time to appreciate it certainly is not. Will one be happier with few profound joys with no other minor things to play as distractions that take up time better spent rejoicing over what's really important?
I think that is why some people like myself bitch about all the utterly irrelevant things, because we are distracted from what ought to be the true joys and sorrows even in a 'modern' world. Realizing this may well be a first step on the path to leading a life with something labeled 'meaning' attached to it. The second and much harder step is to put aside all those irrelevancies and pursue that elusive happiness.
Stay tuned for when I manage to take that step.
Kisses and sweet dreams.

Mandatory update

Seeing as my (minuscule) readership seem to shrink if I do not update this site regularly, I'll now post a mandatory update!

I'm tired, yet feeling fine. Work's a bitch but hey, I ain't the first guy to voice that particular opinion. Wonder what people used to bitch about back in medieval times. (I'll elaborate on this with a theory in my next post). Stay tuned.

Mother of christ....

This has been one of the worst nights ever. Period. Murphy's Law people, Murphy's fucking law.

The background is that there is this very pretty girl whom I've been flirting a lot with at work for some time now. We both think it would be fun to get together sometime yet our schedules (Hellspawn that they are) has made this more difficult than what a perfect world would allow.

Yet we're certainly not living in a perfect world now are we? After getting off work at 22:00 I stand to get on a buss at 22:40 which means I'd be home after midnight. Fine, that sucks but I can live with it.

Today though, flirting by text messaging leaves an opening for me and the pretty lass to get together for a late night stroll. We decide this about 5 minutes before my buss leaves. Texted and done. I don't get on the buss and I'm feeling both excited and very happy about meeting the still somewhat anonymous girl. She gives me a call to tell me exactly where I'm supposed to go to meet her and..... BAM. Phone's out of battery.

The words 'Oh fuck' leaves my mouth and a feeling of disbelief comes over me, meaning that I at some level realize how crappy my situation just became but still don't want to fully acknowledge the fact of it. I try to squeeze a little more juice out of the phone and swear at my folly in getting a pretty but useless designer phone.

I then walk around for somewhat in the neighborhood of 40 minutes, pretending I have any idea of where I'm going. Finally facing facts I walk back towards the bus stop. I've got an idea.

(Mind that I've by this time realized that my very pretty girl must think I'm a total idiot that stood her up. Which ain't exactly helping my mood)

Boldly I stroll into the the still (for about 5 minutes) gas station next to the bus stop. I ask if they have a charger for my Nokia 7500, of course they don't. Yet they are so kind to lend me their phone, I use it to dial a grumpy old hag of an operator and ask for the girls number. She can't find it.

Now it would seem prudent to accept defeat, so I reluctantly walk over to the bus stop to wait for my one hour late bus. Then I start reading the bus schedule. The next buss apparently will only take me about one third of the way home. I start cursing so loud the few people still out at first start to look at me, and the quickly look away.

Anyhow, I manage to make it home, after only about two and a half hours outdoors in the bitter November cold. I'd not be surprised if I wake up sick tomorrow... And I sincerely hope the pretty girl will accept my apology and understand that there would have been absolutely nothing I would rather have done for the past few hours than put my arms around her and give her a big kiss for saving me from the cold.

Alas it's most certainly not a perfect world.

Goodnight.

I guess...

I guess I must be bipolar, since I love my friends so much and firmly hate a great part of the rest of the world.

Saturday night madness

I planned to have a quite evening by myself in the company of my computer or a decent piece of literature.

What actually happened was that my dear little friend Rolf nagged me into submission regarding having a night on the town. 5 glasses of wine and a couple of beers, and some ungodly rum later I'¨m back at my place. It was fun in every sense of the word yet I'm starting to wonder if I'm actually capable of spending a weekend without ending up rather drunk (as at the time I'm writing this). Perhaps I should look into getting a proper girlfriend, as we all know that is definitly the death of everything that's associated with a 'normal' social life here in little Sweden.

Well, I suppose it could be worse, if I had been born a Fin or Russian I'd probably be on the waiting list for a liver transplant right about now.

Cheers mates, if anyone of the people which I'm thinking about actually reads this I want you to know that I really, really, miss you. <3 you friends .

Although I've said that....

I may sound more bitter than I actually am, concerning work. Yet when I get home at 00:15, and have to be back at that bloody place at 10:00 this morning... Let's just say that it does not exactly curb my homicidal urges.

Seems like I'm still a bit sick

Tried to warm up by playing with a jump rope, after 15 minutes of low intensity jumping my lungs and throat start doing some funny and extremely unpleasant things. Which states with painfull clarity that it'll be a while yet before I manage to get back in semi-decent shape. Booze is definitly out of the question for the next few weeks. =/

Alright so it's been a month

So what's been up? To tell the truth not much. One could summarize Work-Work-God damn awfully sick-Work and some more Work.

Now, as you may notice 6 out of these 6 points suck. Well no surprise there, at the moment I seem to be doing little else than either working or going to work. For those of you that don't know I now, since august that is, work in Karlskoga with customer services for Viasat AB, satellite TV provider.
Awful hours at minimum salary with a complementary 3h of travel time every day. Which isn't exactly great for either health or sense of well-being. Especially since some of the customers we get really makes me lose ever more of that little faith in humanity I have left.

On the somewhat brighter side of things when it comes to work is that it's usually quite easygoing at the workplace especially at some of the odder hours of the workday. Shooting rubber bands at coworkers apparently is as much fun as it was to do so in kindergarten, elementary school and highschool. This is something of a frequent occurrence after 20:00. It's silly but it helps me and others keep our collective sanity.

Further, someone (who might or might not read this blog) once told me that she SERIOUSLY doubted I'd fit for a job involving handling people in any form, especially convincing them that I ought to be allowed to sell them anything. Well fortunately for me, and the customers,
she seems to have neglected the fact that I can be very good at hiding my more cynical side and fake that I'm actually nice and caring. At least I think the fact that I manage to sell so much more TV related stuff as to net me a couple hundred SEK every day (better than most) seems to point at something like that.

Mind that I'm not admitting that I'm pure evil when I'm not working, but when I think about it I'm not really all that much for helping people watch more and ever more TV instead of doing something productive with their lives. It's interesting how all my workmates do treat the customers phoning in, I come to think of someone in particular who's go just the draconian demeanor I'm sometimes accused of having. Yet, on the phone, he sounds like nicest guy in the world, no exaggeration.
It seems a bit strange and otherworldly when one finds concrete examples of how differently people react and behave in different situations. Speaking for myself I don't even consciously think about the way, after a couple of thousand customers, I behave on the phone. Obviously I'm only doing what keeps me paid with some nice topping in the form of sales as a direct consequence of how I'm perceived by the troubled customer.
Still strange to realize that most of my friends probably would not even recognize me.

Anyway, to summarize the bright points with my job, it's often easy in an easy-going atmosphere and I sell things and get cash for doing so. Droning on before getting a new job isn't so bad as it seems at times after all.

In other news and the one deviating point of the six I started this entry with I had a run in with a nasty influenza virus a couple of weeks back, something which I still haven't fully recovered from. It worked out something like this, one Saturday I got really drunk at Wictoria's place along with some other jolly people. Sunday morning I'm feeling a bit hungover and notice that my throat is hurting slightly. Something which I've learned over this past year usually means that I'm on the road to a couple of sick-days. Sure enough by Sunday evening I realize that 'Hey son, ya ain't going to be working tomorrow and there's NOTHING you can do about it'. When I wake up on Monday I can hardly speak because of my throat, let alone eat or drink. This later develops to something like 40 degrees (C) of fever and a state of lying upon my bed in a state I'd go as far as to call near comatose. One more reason to hate Mondays I guess.

Finally apart from work which as I stated takes up way too much of my time at the moment I thought I'd just mention that I have had quite a bit of fun most of the weekends I've had since I started working. Having little of it really makes for appreciating the spare time I do have. In fact I've had so much alcohol and late night fun that I've started to really think about my general state of health (the two friends mentioned above does not exactly improve upon it). Along with being out of the gym because of influenza this has been a nasty combination for my body, something I those that know me might guess have created an compulsive urge to take the bloody bull by the horns and straighten up my habits for the months to come. Back to gym and serious dieting from tomorrow is the name of the game.

With that I conclude this rather length post, if you've read all of it I wish you goodnight.

Missy With An M.

Beauty—such a fleeting thing

To see it around you—within you

But never without,

Is a beautiful painful thing

The now—such a fleeting thing

In it, I see you with me still

But you are receding!

Why do you leave me?

All that untouched beauty

In my past

Is such a very painful thing.

A.S

It's my birthday!

The title is self explanatory. Was a nice enough birthday, the only downer would be that it's absolutely terrifying to consider that it's been a whole year since my last one. It's been an eventful year by all accounts and to realize that it has not left a greater mark is somewhat unsettling.

Anyways, I'm off to bed. Later friends.

Why English?

You're Swedish, so why are you blogging in English mate?

The answer is simply that, strange as it may seem, I feel more comfortable when using a language (again, English) that's not my mother tongue. I can think of a couple of possible explanations why this is the case. One is simply that I'm a bit of an Anglophile when it comes to the written word, I've at this point read more literature in English than I have Swedish literature, and obviously familiarity breeds comfort.

Another reason is that using English seems to me a bit like stepping into a sanctuary: Switching language tends to make me see things, be it issues or emotions, in a different light. It's almost like I'm stepping away from what I believe I think and feel and go towards... A safe place where I can discover what I really think and feel. One could say that it adds a sense of perspective.

And of course there is that most of my Swedish friends can read a blog in English with no trouble at all, whereas people I've met over the glorious Internet would feel that attempting to read a blog in Swedish might be somewhat....intimidating.

Now I'm going to run off to my somewhat monotonous work, and to see another day slip away into that blurry place we call the past.

Afterwork tiredness and 5 minutes of verse

Today, I've worked from 13:15 to 22:00. Meaning that I left with the bus at 11:15 and got home at 11. Oh the joys of being a regular working man.

Regardless of being ridiculously tired I feel that I've had a productive day involving a trip to the dentist (my teeth are pristine) and a trip to the gym. Seeing as this is going to be my routine (not the dentist, mind) until Friday and some bottled old friends comes along to shed some light on my tired soul there will be little in the terms of news regarding my daily life for the next few days.

I do however hope that I'll get at least some time to call/chat with/ambush some of my friends before the week's up. There are people that are sorely missed during the weeks I spend working, some of you I sadly won't see again for quite some time (since everyone and their hamster seems to have elected to leave the damn country.) I do think about many of you on a daily basis and I even spent a whooping five minutes of my precious working time writing a short poem on the subject.

Goodnight.

Nostalgia
Nostalgia is a powerful drug
I yearn for that dark peaceful place
Where I can greet the past and shrug
You see, in my mind I can trace
Paths to all the happy days
When you were still in my tiny world


A.S

Poetry ahoy

My singing voice

Once I could paint your lovely face
With all the colours I could dream
Impart singing joyous smiles with grace
Bridge the gluttonous crimson stream–

Yet my pallet suddenly and swiftly shifted
Almost black and a mythic mist was rising–
From our safe harbor we’ve both drifted
Alone on reddish waters–hardly surprising.


A.S

So.... what now?

So now for something completely different, as stated above I reckon that anyone who'd actually read this is someone with whom I already have an acquaintance the odds that you too are a former IB student seems quite high. If this is the case you might wonder why someone computer literate and fond of writing such as myself haven't written anything for the wonderful we are the IB blog (courtesy of Olle Eriksson). The fact of the matter is that it's jealousy and bitterness (or something close to these two ugly states of mind) that's so far kept me form telling my beloved (as indeed you are) friends about exactly in which direction my life is currently racing away from me.

During the summer (of which I, as promised, will speak no more) I applied for something like twenty different jobs to no avail. It's an obvious truth that the only thing you can get for an IB diploma with fucking beautiful grades is a swift pat on the back. This coupled with the facts that I had no money or any worthwhile pastime activity whatsoever (venting frustration in the gym excluded) had a somewhat detrimental effect on my sense of general well-being. Sigh, there I go and talk about my summer again. I'm sorry I butchered my promise but keep reading, I'm going to appear a bit happier and bitch about completely new content of my life as we get towards the end of this post.

To make a long story (that has virtually no content) shorter (and with something at least close to a point): Eventually, as some of you may know, I did get a job. I currently work with customer support for Viasat in the 'picturesque' town Karlskoga. I'm definitely going to post more on my situation at work in the future but for now I'm just going to say that contrary to what several people seem to think, I quite like the job.

For me, seeing the amount of work I put into it, getting a job with an entirely decent (and legal) salary is something of an accomplishment. I also recently (070903) managed to get my driver's license and have some more or less concrete plans to get an apartment (where work is) together with one of my friends. So there is stuff going on in my life of late.

Why then haven't I written anything in the wonderful IB-blog? The answer to this dear friends is bound to be a rather complex one as I haven't quite settled my thoughts on the matter myself. Therefore I'll leave this hanging for the time being, but I promise more on this will be forthcoming. I bet you're all absolutely dying with curiosity!

It's time to get this show on the road.

So i registered a blog back when I was still reeling from having completed the IB program. In accordance with the frame of mind I was in a couple of months back (depression, boredom et infinitus, physical spongy-ness etc) this blog fell into the same category in terms of priority as all other projects I may have contemplated at the time.
Priority: Zero/Null/'Go and hide in the closet you stupid project' are a couple of labels appropriate for any activity back during the summer months which would involve even a modest level of craftiness on my part.

If this blog indeed does have any prospective readers I suppose that such would be people that already know me, at least to some extent. And I'm sure you've all heard my incessant nagging about having had nothing to do all summer (and no money to do nothing with). Knowing that some of you think of me as a nagging bitch I'm henceforth discontinuing this particular line of bitching on my part: I've decided not to speak another word about the worthless summer of 2007.

There's a first time for everything!

This is a test, not one of those that involves chemicals, syringes, unsafe voltages or other horrors such as multiple choice questions. Nope, this is just a wheee little tiny test in order to check whether my "blog" will update properly or not. Then I can spend the rest of my evening fiddling with the layout and whatnot. Oh, wait, that's right. Time's already 00:20. I should be in bed getting ready for yet another uneventful day. Well, good for me that sleep is overrated, and that I don't have a fascist body insisting on me needing at least 8 hours of it.

...........................

Crap, I'm screwed.