10164887I am tired. I know, I know. Cue violins for poor Chris. We’re all tired. Life is tiring. But seriously, I am tired. This Not Max does not sleep. At least not during the prime sleeping hours of 11 p.m. – 5 a.m. And it doesn’t seem to be getting better. Last night was the worst, I was up twice half dozing through two full episodes of season 1 of the West Wing between 1:30 and 5. I know that I said I like these wee hours bonding sessions, and I do, but I could really use some sleep right now.

I realized this afternoon, after I lay down on the floor of my office to attempt a 15 minute power nap, that a week of  disrupted sleep is beginning to induce the physical symptoms of sleep deprivation. My brain is just not firing on all cylinders.  I find myself losing my train of thought. Find, in fact, that the train is hurtling right off the tracks. On Tuesday, I spent a good quarter hour of my lecture on a rambling corollary about robot slaves. Much to my students’ consternation. Then, while introducing a practical yesterday, I was happily lecturing away:

“So, restriction endonucleases don’t have a preference for the source of the DNA. In other words, we can cut DNA from any organism. Prokaryotes, eukaryotes. Yeast, mice, humans, pigs. Thus, could allow us to make pig/human hybrids. If we were so inclined. And robots…”

Long pause.

“Sorry guys, what am I talking about?”

bathAnd irritability. When none of my thoroughly confused students were able to explain what it was that I was talking about, I went on an extended rant in which I explained that there was really no point in me standing up here talking to them if none of them were going to pay attention. In fact, that I could think of about 19 things I would rather be doing then talking to them about something that I couldn’t remember. Damn it.

I may also be starting to hallucinate. It is like I’m seeing through a crystalline filter. Everything is hyperreal and increasingly I’m beginning to catch glimpses of motion in my peripheral vision. Which means, that I spend a lot of my day walking around campus, muttering to myself about obtuse students, yawning and occasionally whipping my head in one direction or another and assuming a defensive stance to prepare for the samurai attacking me from my flank. Or the robots.

Sorry guys, what am I talking about?

I had a friend back in Oxford who used to say, whenever I complained to him about something, “it will pass, Chris, it will pass.” It’s a good thing he’s not here right now because I’m pretty sure I would bite his ear off.  He also used to say “nobody ever died from lack of sleep.” I’m pretty sure that isn’t true. I can personally imagine about 27 different ways I could die from lack of sleep:

  1. Falling downstairs while getting up for the 37th time with screaming Not Max.
  2. Walking out in front of a bus after failing to notice colour of stop light.
  3. Falling asleep whilst driving to the shop for more coffee.
  4. Lighting self on fire while lighting fire to keep warm after getting up for the 37th time with screaming Not Max.
  5. Mistaking red back spider for toothbrush.
  6. Being stabbed in the throat by your partner after refusing to wake up to deal with crying baby.*
  7. Samurai robots.

harrydawgOK, that’s only seven, but I think I’ve made my point.

————————————–

It’s a Frank Turner week here at A Free Man. The track that inspired the title of this post is from Turner’s debut “Sleep is for the Week” (Frank Turner - Sleep Is for the Week). I’ve had more of a chance to listen to his latest, “Poetry of the Deed” and it really is quite good. Turner comes back with his socially conscious lyrics, a la  Billy Bragg, but with a biting sense of humor. He’s really starting to come into his own as a musician and the new one has a more mature and confident sound. Have a  listen to ‘The Road’ from his new one and if you like it buy ‘Poetry of the Deed’ from Frank Turner - Poetry of the Deed (Deluxe Version). No, seriously, buy it from iTunes or I’m going to keep talking about robots.

————————-

* This is more conceivable than you may think. I don’t think Boy Z slept through the night until we got to Australia when he was about seven months old. His Mum and I were at the frayed ends of our tethers. On the trip over we stayed for a while at her sister’s house in Sweden – with Boy Z in the same room. We nearly came to blows about who was going to deal with him in the middle of the night.

———————-

Image credit:

Sleeping

Dawg gear courtesy of Heather, but more on that later…

 
icon for podpress  Frank Turner "Vital Signs": Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 
icon for podpress  Frank Turner "The Road" [3:58m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Popularity: 9% [?]