Monday, September 30, 2013
12:29 AM
in five hours and eight minutes, an alarm will tell me to wake up. as if i have not spent the past eight hours trying to drift into the arms of unwelcoming sleep.
the hum of the podcast presenter began to bore me at 10:30 PM. i paused his voice, hoping sleep would accept me soon. after two futile hours of meditatively counting sheep, i opened up my beckoning laptop.
there is something to be said about surfing the internet when the rest of the world is asleep. a certain serene stillness attaches itself to every webpage, making reading articles with the quotation "plants have souls" in the title seem natural, visiting Facebook profiles of the deceased perfectly normal, and cyber-stalking best friends from elementary school acceptable.
why, in these hours in which i beg my body to slip into a state of unconsciousness, does this internet behavior feel somewhat necessary? perhaps my subconscious mind needs these confirmations of death or change of once-called friends to answer some of life's pressing questions that nag at my fragile consciousness.
in this state i wonder the following:
12:29 AM
in five hours and eight minutes, an alarm will tell me to wake up. as if i have not spent the past eight hours trying to drift into the arms of unwelcoming sleep.
the hum of the podcast presenter began to bore me at 10:30 PM. i paused his voice, hoping sleep would accept me soon. after two futile hours of meditatively counting sheep, i opened up my beckoning laptop.
there is something to be said about surfing the internet when the rest of the world is asleep. a certain serene stillness attaches itself to every webpage, making reading articles with the quotation "plants have souls" in the title seem natural, visiting Facebook profiles of the deceased perfectly normal, and cyber-stalking best friends from elementary school acceptable.
why, in these hours in which i beg my body to slip into a state of unconsciousness, does this internet behavior feel somewhat necessary? perhaps my subconscious mind needs these confirmations of death or change of once-called friends to answer some of life's pressing questions that nag at my fragile consciousness.
in this state i wonder the following:
- which is worse: the beloved dead or the once-loved alive, continuing to exist without you in their life?
- is everyone growing up except me?
- am i the only one who can't tell the difference between a National Geographic article and one from The Onion?
- how do people even fall asleep anymore?
- are enough people listening to Sea Oleena?
Sea Oleena, Untitled
