I know what Rives was talking about.
I'm ill. Swallowing feels like downing razor blades, my throat feelred and raw and unbelieably previous in it's position of "there". My throat feels like it could topple down at any time, and fall into the pit of my uneasy stomach and stay there. I'm listening to Blonde Redhead to make me feel better (a thought I think I feel is ridiculous, considering).
I can't stop thinking.
I promised myself I'd keep my work at work but I keep thinking about work and thinking about work is counterproductive toward sleep, but I can't help it. I'm thinking about getting told off for losing 3d glasses (we have non-disposable ones) when I next go into work. I'm thinking about how Michael Jackson's This Is It is already one of the highest grossing films of all time, beating Star Wars no less, on presales. I'm thinking about how that's going to be a rough one when it opens on Wednesday. I'm thinking about my twelve hour shift then, and how I'll deal with it. I'm thinking about "Bear Flu" and how awesome a concept that is. Because come on. It is.
My dreams have a narrative tonight. All fevered and disjointed but a narrative none the less. There's a game running in there, something about fighting zombies. But at least I'm not talking in my sleep... that's counterproductive to Life. The concept, not the amazing television show starring Damien Lewis. I'm thinking about DVDs. I'm thinking about sleep.
But I can't.
I found out I'm up for promotion, but so are three, maybe four other people, and they're all stabbing each other and me in the back. I don't know if I want to know who they are to gauge my competition, or to back stab them as well. It's not in my nature to betray, so why would they do it to me? And why would I start making mistakes when I'm up for promotion and people are paying attention to me. What's up with that? I mean, apparently it's good. Healthy. But I don't know. I really don't.
Anyway, it's 4am, and I'm awake. Laptop battery will die soon. So that'll be that. And I'll be here again. Rudderless. Brr.