Life's Like a Big Snake

This metaphor plays out in a lot of ways. First and foremost, life has the ability to choke you whenever it feels so inclined. Like forcing you to stay up until 4 A.M. last night working on a pre-lab for the worst lab in all of history. That lab took four full hours, by the way. Four entire boring, sleep-depriving hours. Dreadful.

And now tonight it's 2 A.M. and I'm writing a blog post again. Which is actually okay, because I'm doing this just before I embrace unconsciousness, as opposed to just before I begin working on pre-lab report that I should have done four days ago.
tldr: I can sleep soon.

Today was quite the day.

For one thing, I was so tired that it was like the longest day that has ever happened on the entire Earth. Honestly. And it made concentration difficult in everything. Thankfully, there's only two classes on Wednesday. But there's also the big fat lab on Wednesday, and that's the pits.

I'm so tired my thoughts are all convoluted and are coming out accordingly. What I'm trying to say is: after I barely woke up in time for orgo this morning, it was cold out and I had to eat a donut for breakfast because I forgot to bring a pop-tart, which I'm not complaining about because it was delicious and sort of nostalgic with sprinkles on top.

Then I went and looked up philosophy topics in the library for two hours between classes because the activation energy to open my government textbook is significantly higher than the amount of energy in a standard sized donut, even with nostalgic sprinkles. That was a good waste of time because I creeped myself out a smidgen and also remained conscious which means I was accomplishing something.

I'm not sure if that actually logically follows.

Math was so boring, but Kal Nanes knows my name and he doesn't know some other peoples' names and I'm sure that counts for something and Michael didn't come to class for the second day in a row and maybe he's sick or he dropped it! Which means I now have 1.3 friends in math class instead of 2.2, which is sort of unhappy.

And there's not enough time to eat lunch on Wednesdays but one manages, and then it's time for lab and the next four hours are a muddled blur of frustration, anxiety, frustration, fatigue, temporary emissions of alertness, and long, subdued periods of gazing at noncompliant vials.

By the time a four hour lab is over, you feel like you just fell off the edge of the Earth and everyone you know managed to keep their balance and not fall with you.

And then they hopped into Formula One cars and drove off to dinner and texting and fun affairs that are difficult to participate in from Lab D-221.

Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah. Danny's car had a flat tire so we had supper and then we shared manly conversation and frustration at the Wildcats.

And then I went to my room to waste time gazing at pixels and I realized that worship is tomorrow, and that I haven't actually practiced, and that we're singing Meant to Live by Switchfoot, which is not a simple tune, and that last week I sucked at electric guitar because I hadn't practiced and also possibly because I was tired -- and I only had control over one of those variables, and so I got out my guitar and OH MY GOD MY TINY LITTLE AMP DIED.

It had sort of had one foot in the grave for a little while. But there aren't words to describe it when your own tiny little black box of magic that can clip on your belt and be sunshine gives into illness and dies. And then you feel like some kind of sick fiend because when you play he wheezes and rattles like a poorly revitalized corpse and you can't change any settings to make him come back to life, and you try to strum some more and he sounds like he's throwing up and he just isn't alive at all.

An hour of Amazon and USPS hoops later, I had my little guy tucked away in a cardboard box, going home to his parents in exchange for money, which is kind of twisted.

And then it was a late hour and I had to get practicing for that difficult song, and I really did give it a go. I spent almost three hours working away at it, watching the YouTube video like actually literally nine hundred times and looking up so many tabs and strumming away. But somehow the sound was just not adding up -- and any goodness I can achieve on my own with a guitar is cut down by about seven eighths when I play in public. By this standard, I was likely going to cause temporary blindness when I played tomorrow.

But I still wasted more time fiddling away at that guitar and then we changed the setlist and it turned out that I didn't have to have spent all those hours, but somehow it was less frustrating than it should have been because at least I knew Meant to Live. Slowly. Alone.

And then I worked on a project until now which took too long, but will be over soon.

And holy cow, this blog is about a snake.

Okay. Life is also like a snake because it goes in different directions depending on what part of it you're on. That makes less sense written than imagined. And life can buck and throw you off, or raise you to a great height unexpectedly.
And it can.. bite you.

For a variety of reasons, I'm abandoning this analogy.
G'night.