For the sake of full disclosure, my brain isn’t really working right now. Blame sleep deprivation or any number of other things. Actually, that’s what I’ll do.
I wouldn’t say I’m heavily sleep deprived, but I’m certainly getting a sub-optimal amount of shut-eye. Since I get up at 8am, I originally told myself I needed to be in bed by midnight. Seemed plausible, but I forgot that The Internet. Yeah, it ends there. Though some insidious creeping time-thievery, 1am became the new time. You know, I had writing to do and I kind of wanted some wind down time at the end of the night. If I’d gotten back from a gig, I needed to check my emails, Facebook, Reddit, Twitter (yeah, I kind of read/not post there now. In a few months I’ll synch my Facebook/Twitter posts. Eventually I’ll start writing different content. Inevitably I’ll leave Facebook for all but event notifications) and general internettery. Procrastination is also a fun hobby, which means that 1am got pushed to 2am. 6 hours is enough time to sleep per night, right? Except that I generally finish on the computer around 2am, getting me to sleep often between 2.30am-2.45am. Suddenly that 8 hours each day is nothing more than a pipe dream. It’s nothing new for me to prioritise doing anything over sleeping, but good health and mental acuity are pretty radical (bringing it back) too, right? Yeah. Which brings me back to my brain not working. Bummer that.
I’m also mildly anxious about this job thing. So, the interview went well. This I know. I know this because the next day I had an email from the interviewer (asking me to stack oranges?) saying that I’d advanced to final consideration for the position. The only issue being that my references’ email addresses had bounced. Shit. I gave some alternate employers here in Toronto to keep things easy for the guy and I never heard anything back. One of them is my current boss, who hasn’t had a call. It’s really only been 2 days, but this is preying on my delicate sleep deprived disposition here. He said he’d make a decision by the end of the week, but that’s tomorrow (well, the morning is only about 6 hours away). What can I do about it? Times like this, brief spates of madness take hold and you start questioning your quickly unravelling sanity. I think to myself is it too late to track down those employers and their newer email addresses? Well if he’s deciding tomorrow, it probably is. Shit. Damn hemispherical time difference. Does my lack of working email addresses show me up as someone who doesn’t pay attention to details (a prime component of the job)? Shit. Maybe it does. Perhaps that’s why he never emailed back. I guess I’ve already lost it. Damn, imagine how great things would’ve been if I’d gotten it, that one step in the door I need to start putting some hard work into career building and making something of myself here. Or maybe it’s not all over and he’ll tell me I’ve gotten it tomorrow. Should I vaguebook asking people to keep their fingers crossed? Well that wouldn’t really accomplish anything practical, plus I’d look like a whale penis if I didn’t get it. I don’t need mass sympathy or attention (says the guy with the public writing project) about this. Let’s see what tomorrow brings. Another reason why I should be sleeping. Dear brain, you still with me?
I still haven’t had lightning strike me with an awesome Halloween costume idea. I wanted to do Peter Quill, still do. Don’t have a burgundy leather jacket, let alone one the right size. Can’t assemble the costume without that essential component. So now I need to think of something witty. I’ve got 3 weeks. I don’t care if it’s something current, just something that suits me. I could technically just rehash one of the other costumes I’ve done since I’ve arrived here, but that’s kind of shit. The Captain Mal Reynolds thing is done. Too bad there are no significant characteristics of Adam from Girls that I can pull off. If I walk into a party without a shirt, people will just think I’ve come as a douchebag. That’s non-helpful. I feel like dressing as a douchebag usually makes one feel like they have licence to act as a douchebag ironically. I’m done with irony right now. Speaking of irony, am I too Jewish to pull off an Abradolf Lincler costume? Outside Peter Quill that’s the only idea I’ve got right now. If I brain was working, this would be easier.
Of course, there’s a remedy for all of this. Just go to sleep. It’ll help solve me sleep deprivation, I’ll find out my job situation on the morrow and a fresh headspace would help grease the wheels of costumery. So I bid you all adieu for the sake of my mind goo.