Dear J-
It seems as though I’ve hit a bit of a lull at work; I come home not really remembering what I did, other than that I was busy all day with something or another. Class tonight was a series of episodes punctuated by Ben’s increasingly desperate attempts to keep me awake. I’m not sure if it was the subject matter or class fatigue or just plain old tired-of-being-awake, but toward the end of the evening I perked up a little and we were able to make a little more headway.
On the other hand, it seems like I’m turning into a bit of a night owl, what with trying to work on homework sets until late into the night (relatively late, I should qualify: it’s not like I’m sitting there until small hours of the morning, but I am getting into that false bravado of sleep being for the weak again, something that hadn’t cropped up until I was mostly punch-drunk on too many late nights spent in the study room out at Ridge House) and getting figgy off to bed late again, as usual. You make your own free time with your choices. I just either haven’t been too choosy lately, or perhaps exceptionally unlucky.
When I was young I used to lug around my parents’ tape recorder in an effort to both document our lives and provide commentary on the social mores from a kid’s perspective (in my world, CBS News was full of anchors kissing each other; this in the days before integrated casts, no less). I’m pretty sure my parents thought I was just as crazy as I think figgy is at times. I guess the crazy never really goes away — nor does it improve; you just crash through the highs and lows and surf along the waves as you need to.
Mike
Dear J- 