curiosity

Today I spent my time sleeping through my pills, which happens every now and again. It's a waste of good medication, really. The only reason my eyes are open now is thanks to a fancy yellow drink in a little blue can known as Red Bull. Last night I tried to pull an all-nighter, because I was feeling feisty and wanted to work on comic book pages, which I sort of did!

Oftentimes all-nighters will make me feel better instead of worse; science-type exposition about this follows:
Those who suffer from neurological sleep disorders usually have a brain that releases less wakefulness hormone than the average healthy person. Therefore sleep deprivation causes MORE wakey wakey brain juice to pump out, not less, and also creates a surreal, syrupy euphoric feeling, that is, if one can actually stay awake long enough in order to get to it. Even a short nap will kill the potential effect, unfortunately.
I've only had this feeling occur twice in my life, and that was after staying up for two straight days and nights, with the aid of a dumptruck's worth of caffeine. It was nice, though. I might as well have been tripping balls. I'll never forget walking down Belmont Ave. drinking a chai and green tea latte, telling my mom via cell phone that I had reached enlightenment, and I was completely and absolutely sure about this.

In summation - your body's own chemicals can fuck you up. As if we didn't already know that.

Spent the rest of today, and yesterday, and some of the day before that thinking about Birka. It's difficult to express how intensely I very much want to go back. And I still owe a friend of mine a visit to Norway. I'm thoroughly anchored here for the time being, but saving my paychecks.

Curi.