Tuesday, October 20, 2009

How Much Are Half Highlights


--- Warning, extreme whining follows ---

I lie for an hour and 50 minutes in my bed and follow up, thanks to the dawning moon light, a pattern in my woodchip to the ceiling. I close my eyes. I focus on the voice of the voice actors Robin Williams, who read me from Terry Pratchett's "Going Postal".
think I hear since I can fall asleep to the radio plays. From the traffic light man, about He-Man radio plays, to the old John Sinclair. With age came to talking books. have
The voice actors Brad Pitt (Tobias Meister), Christian Ulmen, or beyond doubt Joachim Kerzel already helped me to sleep and entertain me anyway. I'm trying to visualize what is read to me, after two or three minutes I digress thought. The cat nestled in my calves and I curse them that they can sleep easily.
I open my eyes again, I take a sip of water, turn around and look at the bright red numbers of my clock radio. 2:32 clock. I close my eyes again. I rummage in my linen in a comfortable reclining position and try to think of nothing else but the audiobook to work with. My head would rather think about other things. The upcoming move, the aging, the question of the existence of a deity, what you could write such women (very pungent), friends, sex, the personal future, death, and particularly its inevitability (also extremely pushy), films Books my laziness, what would you do remember what I have not done and can not, etc. The head does not stand still and is relentless. He drills deeper and jumps like a broken record from thought to thought.
shit! I have again lost the plot. I focus again on Robin Williams. I see him before me, with his good-natured face, which pulls faces when he adjusted his voice to talk to other characters and I still aloud. I concentrate. I focus to concentrate. Just listen -. A car
Proll, drives his golf tuned 3 or whatever, with 70 through the thirties zone below my window. Now I have the letzten zwei Sätze verpasst. Bin wieder raus. Die Augen gehen wie automatisch auf. 2:58 Uhr. Die Zeit rast, das Pensum was mir noch zum Schlafen bleibt schrumpft und schrumpft. Um 5:45 Uhr klingelt mein Wecker. Wenn ich in den nächsten zwanzig Minuten nicht einschlafe mach ich durch.

Das geht jetzt schon seit Tagen so. Von heute auf morgen. Ich habe eine Nacht durchgemacht, da hatte ich noch frei, damit ich wieder in den Schlafrhythmus eines Menschen komme, welcher in der Lage ist soziale Kontakte zu pflegen. Das ging richtig schief. Ich habe es zwar geschafft durchzuhalten, habe mich um 0 Uhr, nach einem ca. 37 stündigem Wachmarathon, ins Bett gelegt und war fest davon überzeugt mindestens bis 13 Uhr zu schlafen. In dem Moment als mein head touched the pillow I was asleep (I've always wanted to steal a phrase from King). By 3 clock I was awake again. Since then I sleep a day three to four hours. In most cases, at noon, when I can hardly keep awake. Again for 25 hours after that deadline. Today I am the seven days with this strange rhythm full. I can not help it, even if it is typical whining, I'm worried slowly. Normal, let alone healthy, that's not good.
people tend to when they speak of their sleep problems to exaggerate grossly. More than my word I can give unfortunately not, but that is now doing, I exaggerate either above or below. I sleep for seven days, 4 hours maximum a day / night. I do not know if this is the creeping madness that I finally reached and not only scratches on my door or if I broke something on my marathon 37 hours. In any case, I now hang again here. It's 3:36 clock and I have decided to stay awake and all this stuff to write down times. Why? No plan, no idea. I'm simply the need to whine, I think. I also have serious concerns if things were as tutti is how it works. Another reason is that I am with what other "hot type" as a film would crack if you will.

I'm sitting here with my ice-cold Coke Light (the Koffein mir hoffentlich hilft durch den Tag zu kommen) und der „schlechten Laune-Playlist“, welche gerade Burt Bacharach mit „What the World needs now“ spielt und frage mich was die Kacke soll. Ich hoffe und glaube, dass sich das irgendwann einfach wieder einrenkt und normalisiert.
Die Problematiken sind die Folgen des geringen Schlafes, welche gerade mich als Menschen der eigentlich lange und viel schläft, besonders hart treffen. Meine Konzentration ist jetzt völlig im Eimer, was dazu führt das ich weder einen Buch lesen, einen Film vernünftig schauen oder etwas schreiben kann, was ein wenig Struktur erfordert und nicht rein assoziativ ist wie dieser Müll.
3:47 Uhr. In zwei Stunden geh ich Duschen and drive off. Every time I yawn, I consider myself now to throw in the bed, pushing my head in the pillow and try to sleep with a vengeance. I do know that it is meaningless. There is nothing more, as they say in the roulette. Today, the bank wins again. Thank you Morpheus.

In this sense. Sorry for the whining and good morning



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