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Sensory Overload
Jan. 29th, 2004 11:02 pmOh no, it's another sleepy post....
It's been a long time since I made one of these, actually. I've been very good about actually sleeping when I'm tired, instead of allowing myself to wind up in the clicky-zone, staring at the monitor until it starts staring back at me and my eyeballs develop texture. But today has been a grumpy, quivery, self-doubty kind of day, and I can't face the concept of sleep until there is absolutely no other choice in the world.
So I've climbed as deep into my deskchair as I can, and I've piled cats on top of myself to keep me from getting up, and I'm alternating between staring at random computer images and staring at the teeny stuffed animals on top of my monitor. I think they've started staring back at me, at this point. I'm not so sure about the armless bunny - he's just listing to one side in a hopelessly self-involved and maudlin manner, but I'm certain that the little terrycloth rabbit is trying to tell me something. His frozen gesture seems so earnest....
Every sense I have is magnified, in this state. Every inch of my skin is actively trying to pull away from my itchy wool socks, and the prickling is rapidly moving from gently-tickling-my-subconscious to devouring-my-mind-whole. My heart is beating in time with the ticking of my clock, which is louder than my own thoughts. All of the smells of dinner and dessert and beverages have pooled in my room in such a vivid amalgam that I can close my eyes and convince myself that some hideously cinnamony broccoli-legged, tea-faced chicken beast is about to pounce on me and exact the vengeance of a thousand unfairly devoured meals.
Maybe if I'm lucky the terrycloth rabbit would save me from the dinner beast. I think he has other plans for me. Or maybe I should stay awake tonight, just in case....
It's been a long time since I made one of these, actually. I've been very good about actually sleeping when I'm tired, instead of allowing myself to wind up in the clicky-zone, staring at the monitor until it starts staring back at me and my eyeballs develop texture. But today has been a grumpy, quivery, self-doubty kind of day, and I can't face the concept of sleep until there is absolutely no other choice in the world.
So I've climbed as deep into my deskchair as I can, and I've piled cats on top of myself to keep me from getting up, and I'm alternating between staring at random computer images and staring at the teeny stuffed animals on top of my monitor. I think they've started staring back at me, at this point. I'm not so sure about the armless bunny - he's just listing to one side in a hopelessly self-involved and maudlin manner, but I'm certain that the little terrycloth rabbit is trying to tell me something. His frozen gesture seems so earnest....
Every sense I have is magnified, in this state. Every inch of my skin is actively trying to pull away from my itchy wool socks, and the prickling is rapidly moving from gently-tickling-my-subconscious to devouring-my-mind-whole. My heart is beating in time with the ticking of my clock, which is louder than my own thoughts. All of the smells of dinner and dessert and beverages have pooled in my room in such a vivid amalgam that I can close my eyes and convince myself that some hideously cinnamony broccoli-legged, tea-faced chicken beast is about to pounce on me and exact the vengeance of a thousand unfairly devoured meals.
Maybe if I'm lucky the terrycloth rabbit would save me from the dinner beast. I think he has other plans for me. Or maybe I should stay awake tonight, just in case....
