It’s one of those days in which the world, through no fault of its own, happens to exist; and the very fact of its existence is incredibly irritating.
EVERYTHING is irritating, up to and including myself.
This, poor readers, is what happens when I don’t get enough sleep: I sporadically fluctuate between manic hyper happiness and hypersensitivity.
(Please don’t ask me how many times this emotional roller coaster has crashed during the past 8 hours. It hasn’t been one of my prouder days. [Emotional stability is TOTALLY overrated anyway.])
And what is the cause of my voluntary sleep deprivation, you ask? (ok, so you didn’t ask. But let’s pretend you did? I’m a little too emotionally fragile right now to accept the reality that you don’t actually care.)
I know what you’re thinking—too many hot dates with Netflix.
On many another night, you would probably be correct. But no. Not this time.
In addition to Blogging 101 and attempting Nablopomo (which apparently runs EVERY month–so you can just jump right in and choose to annoy your readers with a blog post EVERY SINGLE DAY FOR AN ENTIRE MONTH whenever you want to), this week has also been tech week for the community theater production of Disney Showstoppers (Yep–almost every little girls dreams of being a Disney Princess; but, for the duration of exactly one minute and fifteen seconds, I get to stand on a stage and actually BE one as At Last, I See the Light–try not to be too jealous). And then there was that freelancing project I was feeling too poor to pass up—the deadline for which just happened to be last night—which also happened to be the night of dress rehearsal.
[And you know how much non-stage-related work actually gets accomplished at dress rehearsal?
Needless to say, between a full-time job, participation in blogging challenges, and attempting to have a life beyond work and my computer screen, it’s been a hectic week.
I finished the freelance project 9 minutes before it was due at midnight last night (How exhilarating to feel like a college student again! [except that this time, I actually took the time to proofread my work.]) and then got up at a ridiculously early hour to come to work an hour early.
(Call for your performance is at 5? Well, we’re contracted to have on-site service for 40 hours every week, and we’ve been short on FSRs for the past two months, so we won’t be able to get anyone to replace you for just an hour and a half. [Fine then. I won’t actually USE a few hours of the vacation time I’ve started to accumulate. I’ll just come in an hour early and slash my lunch break in half. Then you’ll HAVE to let me go early, because the only thing corporate hates more than conceding vacation hours in fragments is paying overtime.])
Win-win, right? They get their full staff for the contractually allotted hours; I get to leave early; and everyone is happy. Right?
The timing worked out for everything but my desperate need for enough sleep to make me a sociable creature.
I am not, nor have I ever been a morning creature. I aspire to be happy a morning person, but generally, the only time I’m feeling in the least happy during the early AM (which, interpreted correctly, is any time prior to noon) is when I’m holding a cup of creamified coffee in my hands and moving it in an upward direction toward my mouth.
But today, even a second cup of coffee is failing to lift the sleep-deprived haze wrapping itself around my nerve endings like an itchy blanket.
—Except for maybe those brief moments when, instead of wanting to strangle an offensive offender of my highly sensitive intolerance for annoying sounds, I want to curl in a corner and weep over small tragedies that really aren’t tragedies but take on the emotional proportion of tragedies because EVERYTHING. SEEMS. SO. MUCH. MORE. SAD. when I’m excessivly tired.
So there you have it.
Sleep deprivation at its finest.
Update: three hours later, I am far more fully caffeinated, warmed up for performance, and lurking behind the curtain waiting for the show to begin.
T minus 18 minutes.
Here’s a brief preview of Disney Showstoppers:
Princesses, a dog chorus, and Chimney Sweeping. (I’ll also learn how to “Be A Man”, take a dive “Under the Sea”, and sass my way as a Greek muse through “I Won’t Say I’m in Love”.)