May 8th, 2006

I Want More LIFE!

Today is the day

As I've told several of you, as of today I am the age my father was when I was born. "Man is the measure," according to Protagoras. Well, this is one of the many, many ways in which my life diverges from my father's. Not to dwell too much on it, but as the fourth, I sometimes draw comparisons between myself and the other three. My mom certainly reeled a bit when I told her that. I'm sure to her it still seems like just yesterday that I was being dragged, a month late, out of her womb. I'm not in any hurry to have kids, but sometimes I feel like I'd like to optimize my time spent with them before I'm post-mortal. Quality, not quantity, is the watchword; I'll be in a better place when I have them than I would be now, unemployed, unmatriculated, and (let's face it) unhappy. I'm working on all three of those right now, and they'll come in their time.

I awoke yesterday morning at the exact time I told myself to awaken, despite the fact that it was after less than 6 hrs. of sleep. Later in the day, I closed my eyes and began to dream, without sleeping. As R.E.M. propensity is greatest late in sleep, truncating your sleep can lead to a buildup of REM pressure. Alcohol supresses REM, and detoxing alcoholics experience vivid REM episodes in the delirium tremens. Myself, I was just wishing that I could have written down the stories I was composing in my head. It was quite nice to be behind the dreaming for a change. Rather than just experiencing events, I was selecting strands of probability from story-space. Story-space is where the hypothetical lives. If time is higher than the third dimension, and is orthogonal to 3-space, probability is orthogonal to time. As points on a graph proceed forward on the time axis, they proceed outward, off the page, in probability. Well, it looks cool in my head. But story space is just a neat place where realities float by like wisps of fate's thread and you can pluck them from the ether and weave them into stories. Trust me, it's slick. I've got to wonder, though, if any writers use REM deprivation as a strategy to enhance the vividness of daydreams.

I wish, at times, that I could be two different people; one for writing, and one for editing. I need to divorce myself from loving everything I write (or refusing to write anything I don't love), so that I can actually get shit done. Fucking perfectionism isn't even perfect itself. What a hypocritical ass!
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