It's one of those days during one of those weeks that stretch painfully into one of those lifetimes as I find myself yet again herded into a line of anxious consumers – one nation under economy.
I honestly cannot think of anything in my everyday day-to-day that doesn't involve some kind of Queue… From grocery stores to theme parks, to movies and the DMV, we seem to exist in a perpetual state of anticipation.
Powerless against such an intangible foe, I find myself frustrated by association: a politely muttering malcontent desperate to hurry up and wait so that I may rush on to my next task where I can again be swept away by this maddening mobius of pointlessness.
This is where my head is as I creep ever closer to what will be the day's first cup of coffee. Sweet, sweet nectar of the gods… I'm not a morning type of guy but with a reasonable amount of caffeine in my system, I can fake it. Such is the lot of the chronic insomniac: you're never really asleep, never fully awake. Instead, you hopelessly fumble through life outside your thoughts at the mercy of lingering dementia.
In truth, it's probably a good thing for me that I have this time to reflect on what has to be accomplished before I can again face the mattress in battle:
- Research and analyze other two-dimensional artists attempting to commandeer the third dimension.
- Plan my take over of the campus-based spring art sale.
- Finish my current painting.
- Write a blog posting.
- Address that noise the car keeps making.
- Bench 195lbs.
- Lie about benching 210lbs.
- Complete updates to my new website.
- Do homework.
all has to be accomplished by 11:59pm EST.
That's less than sixteen hours from now and the clock is tick, tick, ticking... And yet, here
I am – losing patience, moments and my mind waiting, waiting,
waiting for a simple. F**king. Cup of coffee.