I’m trying to write something meaningful, and I’m failing. Mostly because I’m falling asleep at my desk.
I could write down the stream of consciousness I face when I sleep, but there is a green field far away/I hope to find it some fine day* (repeat and fade) and I’d rather sing along (repeat and fade) than be inspired at the moment … zzz …
My drowsiness does not seem to understand Robert Frost’s words: ” … and miles to go before I sleep …” I know he was talking about death, morbid spirit that he was, but I’ve got a full day today and naptime doesn’t seem to understand that. I’m dressed up, I’m ready to teach, and — zzzzz …
I am falling asleep sitting up. Sitting up. It’s a good thing I can’t sleep standing up, otherwise class today could be very … different. Zzzzz …
I’ve had two cups of coffee. By cups, I mean 12 ounces, or about 2x the amount in those styrofoam shot glasses they call a coffee cup. This means that I’ve had a total of a pint and a half of — zzzzz …
Can I sleepwalk through work? Not an option — especially since teaching has a touch of acting in it, and I must show my true enthusiasm for this topic externally, which can’t happen if I — Zzzzzz …
It’s okay, I’ll wake up as soon as I have to drive to work. It’s not good sleeping while driving — Zzzzz …
*Waterboys, “The Return of Pan”. Great song.
Words Like Me 