Hello people. I just woke up. I didn't know that my so-called jet-lag is turning into something this serious. It's a tragic biological blunder! People will say, kindly, that it's one of the early stress symptoms while the other day I read it's already one of the depression characteristics, nothing early. I can't believe I actually thought of this during my intervals in between sleeps just now. You know, those short wake-ups when you're very unsure whether to keep up with that dream you had just now, go back to sleep or listen to your mum while she moves around the room doing something that I'm not sure of what.
At first I was actually depressed that the whole toggled up sleeping pattern is one of the depression symptoms (one of the many others would be having digestive problems). But then again, I thought, seriously man, if I have the symptoms so what? If this is happening during that stupid period of actual depression, which covers the last three months, well yes I'm very depressed. Like Elmo turning purple. However in this case, I just have to say I'm not. I'm just lazy and perfectly incapable of staying up to adjust my sleeping pattern back to the 'normal' hours.
Here's the primary reason of why: in the attempts of fixing my clock and trying to stay up (in my case, during the day), I'm always less than 2 metres away from my bed. Which is stupid and unhelpful. This is what happens everyday: I will stay up, listen to any music, hop from one site to the other, possibly studying or maybe just reading crap, get into trouble from time to time, trying to be completely hopeful of my work by seeing at others' work put up at Facebook or other design sites, and then have breakfast (please refer two posts below).
I will then have the breakfast, read the newspaper (optional), after a session or two with Sara (which involves poking her and running away from her after that, nothing child developing, really) I will go back upstairs into my room, have a quick replay of songs (but never a quick re-read of what I'm supposed to read) and if I'm starting to feel really sleepy, there goes the day. And the bed.
I will then wake up a few (specifically, seven or eight) hours later looking at my phone, scrolling down my Twitter account (to find out that usually 200 to 300 tweets have passed, considering that I know most of the people that I have followed, you people are quite crazy). Facebook is always optional, seriously I don't really know what they're posting there anymore. I will always feel famished afterwards. To take a shower is optional. Then here comes the good part: you know you're one of my bestfriends if I will call you afterwards to tag along with me for lunch. The time will read 5PM, if I fall asleep at 9AM. Which is a perfect 8 hour, very healthy, and nicely adjusted to the UK GMT+0 time. I must mention UK because when I wake up, I will find the tweets from the UK people saying good morning. Nice.
In today's case, that time is now. I fell asleep at around 4pm just now. I know: I feel really weird and disproportionate. To be fair to myself, and to you reader if you feel misjudged by reading this and wasted around 5 minutes of your time, I'm just going to reorganise myself according to whatever time I have left, starting with the time that I actually woke up. Which was 20 minutes ago. Right.
Athari called for Saad, which I think it's a good idea. Better head there before the kueyteow is finished. I'm not going to even mention about the shisha part. Now this is what we can be sure of: my health plan has failed. As in Barney Stinson's plans failed. Anyhow, wish me luck. I'm still comfortably thinking that I'm doomed, not just yet.
Good morning.
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