In Being Not So Wide Awake

The December work schedule's starting to take its toll on me. I've got nothing but tedious tasks for perhaps the next couple of weeks.

But then again, getting to sleep at 3:00 am every evening doesn't exactly help either. I usually spend the early early morning doing a few writings, checking up on a bunch of references, and playing the occasional addictive game. On top of that, I still have a habit of reading a small paperback just before going to bed.

I'm starting to break down, I think. One of the effects of sleep deprivation involves a constant feeling of fatigue, and I believe I'm waaaay past that stage already. At this point, I'm probably just waiting for one of my arms to fall off.

I've read somewhere that the lack of sleep also causes lapses in decision-making abilities and depth perception. I'm not particularly worried about the former, as most of our projects are at the point of finishing themselves right now, but the latter has been a constant problem. It's kind of difficult to type when you keep missing the right keys, after all, and the proofreading is tenuous at best when your eyes keep blinking shut.

For that matter, I've also read that long-term sleep deprivation causes hallucinations. I don't think I've reached that stage yet, but I'm expecting it to be obvious once it comes rolling around. (Sorry, folks -- I'm not exactly seeing the pretty colors and the giant purple rabbits yet.) I have, however, been running into a lot of really weird dreams lately; I usually don't have enough strength to try to remember them upon waking, though.

I've realized, of course, that this all might lead to a new source of creative ideas somehow. Lewis Carroll, for example, came up with more than a few character concepts based on the monsters that inhabited his migraine attacks. Guiseppe Tartini once dreamt of the devil playing a violin solo that was so beautiful that he used the experience to compose his piece, "The Devil's Trill".

But then again, the creative income may not really be worth the prospect of incessant migraines and demonic dreams. Or at least, not to me.

Just two more weeks, Sean. Just two more weeks...