I’m kicking my evil twin’s ass

Waking up in the morning to mystery bruises and blood on the sheets is actually not that uncommon for me.

Huh.

Well, it isn’t.

So my theory is that my evil twin watches me work all day, gets bored and takes over when I pass out, or fall asleep, whichever comes first. Then Evil Twin heads down the boozer. And gets in fights.

I get to wake up in the mornings with the mystery bruises and the weird sprains.

A couple of days ago, though, we obviously got into more than we could handle. I woke up with a split lip and blood on the pillow. Complimentary mystery bruises on my arms (defensive) and that’s just it. If my Evil Twin is getting me into fights it should at least know to pick on people we can beat. Sheesh.

And while I’m right about there in my thought process – you know, evil twin, fighting, split lip and mystery bruises I start to realize that I’ve joked around a lot about Tyler Durden and Fight Club, but sometimes, just sometimes life does a fairly decent job of imitating art, doesn’t it?

It doesn’t mean I am not going to kick my evil twins ass, though. Bastard totally has it coming.

ROL

The Brains of a Fruitfly

Okay.

So I enjoy science. It’s so much like straight up lies sometimes it’s just plain funny. And I do laugh.

Okay, I was reading the paper and found this article about sleep and sleep-deprivation and you could say I have a vested interest in keeping up with that stuff, yeah?

So I read the latest scream in sleep research. No, not a nightmare scream…Sheesh, the puns, the puns.

Science is still trying to figure out why we sleep, what the whole point is with the sleeping-thing. Seems like a waste of time, now don’t it? (don’t ask me, I wouldn’t know)

Anyway – they have come up with a theory now that during sleep the neurons get cleaned. Some gunk builds up during the day, or so they claim, so that at night neurons, actually the synapsis, need a quick dusting and vaccuming.  All in all once the cleaning gets done your brain fires on all cylinders again.

Hmm… this is why, or so they say, when you don’t sleep enough you get that fuzzy feeling. (What? Have these people never heard of coffee?)

And that fuzzy feeling is … dirt on your synapsis? Imagine trying to sell that as an excause for being off at work. “Sorry, sir/ma’m/dude my synapsis haven’t been properly cleaned last night”

Didn’t think so.

Meanwhile I’m just running this stuff through my mind and thinking “wait, you mean I could be faster without performance enhancing drugs?” And then I hit the part of the article that had me (and all my synapsis) boggled and snorting coffee out my nose.

They are basing this amazing discovery on tests they’ve done – on fruitflies.

First off – How do you know you’ve managed to keep a fruitfly up?

Secondly – How do you know it’s feeling a little under the weather?

What kind of test can you give a fruitfly to determine if it’s doing its level best?

And thirdly – In what way is a human being like a fruitfly? (other than the whole ‘here have  a banana’ thing)

See this is why I love science. It sounds so clear and intelligent and worked through – and then you get to the part with the fruit flies.

I get that you can’t perform these tests on people, that would be cruel. Also I’m thinking you need to perform an autopsy and I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules.

Oh, well.

I guess that puts a spin on having a dirty mind.

ROL

I forgot to go to bed

I think it has been made clear that I am not a well puppy.

I was working from home the other day. One of my jobs … Well, I have a few. You hustle and shine. You work away. You try to keep ahead of yourself. I don’t know. Could be that I just like to keep busy. I don’t even know if it’s about the money any more or just some kind of sickness.

So, there I am, quietly working away. It’s late. It’s so late it becomes early.

And I am sitting there with my headphones on and quietly typing away. I don’t really get tired. Insomnia, it’s a beautiful thing. Suddenly I hear this odd noise. This weird buzzing noise. I pull the headphones off.

That’s when it hits me.

That’s my alarm.

My “get up in the morning bright and early” signal. It’s set for six thirty in the morning.

That kind of thing really makes me go “oh, for fuck’s sake”. I forgot to go to bed.

How is that even possible? I don’t get tired, or hungry or cold or … well. Some kind of strange gradual desensitization treatment? It kind of works. I mean, up to a certain point it’s all fine and then of course your body will rebel. You get the shakes. You can’t sleep because you’re just too tired. You don’t get hungry. Everything hurts. Eating hurts. Not eating hurts too.

So I look at the time and then I decide that maybe it could be a good plan to go to bed. The rest of the world is up and about so you won’t be getting much sleep. Trucks passing by, the sweet laughter of children (you’d like to silence with a Lee Enfield) and hustle and bustle of city life going on right outside your window… I get up again around lunchtime.

Turn my computer on.

And it’s dead.

Well, that figures. Error message says “Keybord error. Press F1.”

Well. You can press F1 until the cows come home. It’s the typical faulty machine logic that always makes the humanist in me rear up. I know there’s no point in anger, but still, there it is. And it’s pretty viable.

All in all I think it might be time to get a job at the Paper Street Soap Company.

ROL