islanded in a stream of stars

Don't you hate it when no matter how much or how little sleep you get you feel perpetually exhausted?

That pretty much sums up the past two weeks or so. It explains a lot, at least in my mind.

The idea of Spring Break is starting to scare me. All that free time-I can't figure out how I'm going to fill up all of those hours. I really need to start preparing for AP exams or else I'll fail and screw up the rest of my life.

The weather bears a freaky influence over my emotions.

Just finished Mrs. Dalloway and all of my AP Euro reading, including the optional stuff, for the next two and a half weeks. Booyeah! It's scary to think that I actually get more work done staying home on a sick day than being at the IHL (Institution of Higher Learning).

I think I've just trashed my sleep schedule (it's possible?)-I slept for about 11 hours straight until the people who will be remodeling the bathrooms showed up. I honestly can't remember the last time I did such a thing, sleeping for so long.

Originally I set out to write up my senior talk as I came up with a more brilliant idea than the last (which means nothing, really). Of course, I ended up only putting two words down: "Most people." But it's the idea that counts, right? Right.

I have no idea why I can't be motivated to e-mail Harvard friends right now; sorry, Adrienne. It's not that I don't love all of them...it's just that my priorities are messed up and yet I manage to procrastinate on stuff that I want to do.

My lovely post about why Michael Giacchino ought to score Casino Royale was so cruelly wiped out when my laptop froze on me. Gah! There goes an hour and a half of trying to compile my Giacchino reviews.

The prospect of leaving Harvard is worrying me already; now I feel that I need to weigh my time carefully for fear of letting a few idle hours slip past. I can't picture not randomly wandering into friends' rooms at semi-strange hours of the evening to get frozen yogurt or boba or to make a trip over to the Trader Joe's along the river. I actually bother to motivate myself to interact with people in person more than twice a day. The greatest surprise for me is that people actually bother to do stuff together. Back in Pleasantview during the weekends, nobody ever asks, "Hey, do you want to go out to get lunch?" or "Want to do something, anything, just to get out of the house?" It could be my own lack of initiative, of course, but this whole face-to-face interaction really is something I could get used to. I can't picture not being able to randomly wander around at night.

I've been somewhat surprised to realize that the actual Harvard undergrads here are fairly normal human beings-and to be honest, a lot of them are a lot stupider than I expected, or perhaps they really tone down on emitting intellectual vibes outside of class.

Perhaps I'll go to bed before 3:30 AM, but that's highly unlikely considering my baseline behavior at the moment.

Some things weren't meant to be played in an orchestral arrangement, like the very pop-flavored title theme for "the Persuaders."

Oh goodness-I'm seeing the sun starting to rise. I have to get over this insomnia or else I'll be completely screwed for class for the next few weeks and when I return home.

It is a very bad idea to smash one's right index finger-or any other finger for that matter-into a pool table when trying to hit a cue ball. Just for the record, it's also very possible to balance an ice cube on top of one's bruised finger while typing for several seconds at a time. Danielle and her friend, Maya, taught me how to play pool yesterday, and Danielle and I went back to the common area underneath the cafeteria, Annenberg, to practice some more pool. Somehow I managed to cause tremendous pain to the same area on the same finger-right at the joint, oh joy-two days in a row. And yet my roommate is convinced that I am "graceful" which is possibly one of the strangest things anyone has ever said about me. After icing my finger for a good two hours it's feeling much less stiff and swollen, so I hope that in the morning I'll still be able to write with my right hand.

I am developing some not-so-great habits in my state of near total independence, and tomorrow will be the official end of my first week here at Harvard. For one thing, when I don't have an early class I wake up late in the morning because I simply can't motivate my lazy self to get out of bed. Lately I've been having lunch at around 3 in the afternoon and have taken to drinking bubble (boba) tea instead of having dinner because I'm never very hungry at the appropriate times. And I could really get used to spending all my time in Cambridge late at night and going on day trips to Boston instead of getting my behaviorism reading done. Not that I'd skip it-I just am so tempted to do it at the last minute.

Danielle, Mekki, and I originally wanted to go the Aquarium today but ended up getting off at the Government Center T stop instead to explore Faneuil Hall and Quincy Market. I could really get used to the random, interesting conversations I've been having with various dorm mates at strange times of the day. The bathroom is a surprisingly great place to meet people if you go in there between 11 PM and 1:30 AM. I really need to stop going to bed so ridiculously late; by the time I get in bed it will be around 3 AM. Let's see how successful I'll be in getting up by 10 AM so I can shower, go the mandatory meeting with my psych tutor, and get my reading done tomorrow so I can go to the chime bell ringing demonstration in Boston on Sunday...

The lack of sleep is getting to me.

Mental debate: satire of a history essay (thanks, Adric!) or satire of Bush and sports? Or neither, if I'm not allowed. Bah. A little Bush-bashing never hurt.