'To The Virgins, To Make Much of Time'
aka can't sleep so I'll become introspective instead...
it's around 3:30am and I have a little headache, and it just feels too warm to sleep. why is it that I sleep the least when I get drunk -- I can never sleep in, I always feel refreshed a few hours later...
Today I... got mate from waverly; wandered back; decided a pint was in order -- eight pints and two pubs later, we're a happy bunch, and drunkenly watch Eddie Izzard whilst I do a pseudo-Indian stir-fry; pass out and fade to black.
Johnnie Cochran died today :-/ It's weird because I never really thought about him much, but tonight somehow it's a little sad -- as if he died too young (I guess sixty-seven *is* a bit young, regardless it's about perception). I've seen a lot of 'famous' people go before, but seems like they got to do more? at any rate, the reason I mention it is that it makes me feel slightly guilty for having such a drunken, silly night -- though clearly it shouldn't, since this is what life is about, in many respects. live it up, right? I don't know what I feel exactly, trying to sort that out.
I'm not too happy that I _essentially_ don't have anything academic to do until examinations eleventh may... feels like I'm just biding my time, a stay of execution. I feel really unproductive in general, which bothers me. as much as I like spending my days reading and catching up with a more cultured life, I just feel so useless and wasteful. I like a good hard-day's night; work hard, play hard, always made a lot of sense, and always felt an ideal way to spend my days. I suppose this ties in a bit with the Cochran obit.
otherwise, all this 'work' you do seems for nothing in the end. work out, make your body strong, but then one day you drop and it's all a moot point. that's rather disturbing and saddening. or, how you listen to a song you like over-and-over again, realizing you've listened to it at least ten times, and think: 'with all the experiences in the world, why am I spending so much precious time on this one?'
How do you decide when to lounge around as a useless lump of indulgent human flesh, and still feel good about it later? to what extent can, and should, we have these experiences, in the light that we are quite fragile and mortal. maybe life would make more sense with some kind of goal -- it's too openended. oh no, this sounds like a review for Morrowwind.
specific goals are a good thing: if your goal is to die as old as possible, then you have very clear tasks like eating well and working out -- but what about all those uneaten Mars bars. poor lads. on the other hand, if you plan to live forever...
When all is said and done, your 'score' in life is simply based on an arbitrary system of valuation, but you still want it to be high enough for some eternal scoreboard, so life amounts to more than a blip on CNN.
Enough of that. Fortunately, I never have a problem wasting time late at night. It goes with my main philosophy that it isn't *ever, under any circumstance* worthwhile to worry about what you cannot change. That goes with productivity -- late at night the world sleeps, therefore I can only do so much.
Back to bed.
it's around 3:30am and I have a little headache, and it just feels too warm to sleep. why is it that I sleep the least when I get drunk -- I can never sleep in, I always feel refreshed a few hours later...
Today I... got mate from waverly; wandered back; decided a pint was in order -- eight pints and two pubs later, we're a happy bunch, and drunkenly watch Eddie Izzard whilst I do a pseudo-Indian stir-fry; pass out and fade to black.
Johnnie Cochran died today :-/ It's weird because I never really thought about him much, but tonight somehow it's a little sad -- as if he died too young (I guess sixty-seven *is* a bit young, regardless it's about perception). I've seen a lot of 'famous' people go before, but seems like they got to do more? at any rate, the reason I mention it is that it makes me feel slightly guilty for having such a drunken, silly night -- though clearly it shouldn't, since this is what life is about, in many respects. live it up, right? I don't know what I feel exactly, trying to sort that out.
I'm not too happy that I _essentially_ don't have anything academic to do until examinations eleventh may... feels like I'm just biding my time, a stay of execution. I feel really unproductive in general, which bothers me. as much as I like spending my days reading and catching up with a more cultured life, I just feel so useless and wasteful. I like a good hard-day's night; work hard, play hard, always made a lot of sense, and always felt an ideal way to spend my days. I suppose this ties in a bit with the Cochran obit.
otherwise, all this 'work' you do seems for nothing in the end. work out, make your body strong, but then one day you drop and it's all a moot point. that's rather disturbing and saddening. or, how you listen to a song you like over-and-over again, realizing you've listened to it at least ten times, and think: 'with all the experiences in the world, why am I spending so much precious time on this one?'
How do you decide when to lounge around as a useless lump of indulgent human flesh, and still feel good about it later? to what extent can, and should, we have these experiences, in the light that we are quite fragile and mortal. maybe life would make more sense with some kind of goal -- it's too openended. oh no, this sounds like a review for Morrowwind.
specific goals are a good thing: if your goal is to die as old as possible, then you have very clear tasks like eating well and working out -- but what about all those uneaten Mars bars. poor lads. on the other hand, if you plan to live forever...
When all is said and done, your 'score' in life is simply based on an arbitrary system of valuation, but you still want it to be high enough for some eternal scoreboard, so life amounts to more than a blip on CNN.
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun,
The higher he's a-getting
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times, still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time;
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.
Enough of that. Fortunately, I never have a problem wasting time late at night. It goes with my main philosophy that it isn't *ever, under any circumstance* worthwhile to worry about what you cannot change. That goes with productivity -- late at night the world sleeps, therefore I can only do so much.
Back to bed.
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