November 04, 2003
The Day of Caffeine
Hi. Hihihihihihihi. Even as I type this I am bouncing in my chair and snapping my fingers in machine-gun tempo every time I stop typing. Why am I doing this? Now that, friend, is an excellent question indeed. Why am I doing . . . Wait . . . with a supreme effort of will I will attempt to stay on task in spite of my intensely wired state at the moment. Hey! I just used two definitions of will, one right after the other! Sweet! No! Must . . . stay . . . on . . . topic!
It all started . . . aw, nuts. I don't know where to start it. I suppose we could start with birth (mine), but that would be relatively pointless. Well, since the chief purpose of this post is so I can look back at *paused for extended twitching spell* the condition I'm in and remember why I'm going to try and never do this again. With this in mind, let's just begin with my sinking spell in Inklings last night. As much crazy fun as that class is (more than any class has any actual right to be) I was very tired (at least, I thought I was . . . I pretty much scoff at that at this point).
So, as I just said, there was a sinking spell and I spent a sizeable chunk of the class with my head on my arms, staring sideways at Woodring and occasionally swiveling to see Olsen (who was sitting right next to me). During the break at around 8:50 I kind of came alive again and made it downstairs to bum a Pibb Xtra off of the vending machine. By bum I mean, of course, that I fed my little quarters into the slot. Somehow, bum just seemed to describe the way I did it. I also snagged a pack of Starbursts. The candy was gone in five minutes, the soda was gone in ten. I was awake for the rest of the class, but it REALLY hit me at about 9:45, fifteen minutes after class ended.
I go back to my room and Uncle Doug is playing Medal of Honor in an attempt to forget that he had an exegesis paper due the next day which he had started on two hours before. I suddenly remembered that I had to renew three books at the library, so I pelted off that way. While I was there I banged out a Bible journal on Luke chapter two. Call me dense, but after referring to it in my opening line as the best-known Bible story in Christendom, I proceeded to notice two details that had theretofore escaped me about the thing. First, I had never actually realized that Mary and Joseph still aren't married when Jesus is born. And I also had never notice that Jesus isn't born. The Child is born. Jesus is circumcised. For the first eight days of his life, even though the angel had dropped the name months before, Jesus wasn't named. Yeah, I know it was custom, and all that jazz, it just never burrowed into my brain before. It certainly didn't burrow like the nasty headache I feel coming on.
So I got back to my room and Doug was still on, but was getting off. Stupid Uncle Doug. Not that I cared, but he had an exegesis . . . more on that later. I sit down and notice that Sindy is on, so I get on and chat with her for a bit while I'm pulling random research for my speech. Oh, yeah. Due to the homework I had to get done for Inklings, I had not yet started work on my speech . . . the one I presented today. So I started pulling random statistics for that off of the Internet as I'm talking to Sindy.
So then, Wilson gets on and happens to mention that Scholl and Moore are in his room. This is always a bad sign (no exceptions). We go back and forth briefly until Moore decides to break out the Spanish and bring up the "monkeys of love." This is neither the time nor the place to explain the monkeys of love, but suffice it to say that after a bit of witty repartee, I managed to zing him well enough that he decided it would be a good idea to bumrush my room. As soon as he exited Wilson's room, Wilson informs me of this and says to slip out and come over.
I've seen a Moore bumrush before, and I decided that it would be a good time to stroll over to Wilson's and see what was cooking. Of course, in the scramble of leaping to my feet, grabbing my jacket, and generally continuing to experience the sugar rush, I totally forgot that Sindy was still talking to me. I stand directly outside my door until I hear the south door slam downstairs, then I take off for the north door and sprint across the courtyard to Wilson's building. I arrive precisely five seconds after the security monkey had locked the nearest door, but I leap-frogged him and entered the other door before he locked it. I arrived in Wilson's room to find him chatting with Moore, who was plotting evil things to do to my computer just to prove that I hadn't really just generally given all of his plans a good going over.
I decided it would be a good time to return to my room. Passed Moore on the way, but I needed to tell Sindy what was going on. Except that Moore had decided to hijack my trackball . . . cute. I turned around and sprinted back out, shedding the bulky jacket on the stairs as I busted out the door. They said I was back in Wilson's room less than six seconds after Moore arrived. To make a long story short, which I generally try to do (riiight) Wilson was studying his Psychology at the time.
*Brief segue into a related topic* Wilson and I, being fuzzy, actually have fun with our reading assignments and we find something(s) generally amusing to share with the group on an extremely regular basis. This instance was no exception.
He was reading the chapter on "Motivation" . . . the chapter was chiefly concerned with sex.
Actual quote from a member of the company who shall remain anonymous (because it was me): "What other kinds are there?"
Anyway, we probably had more fun with that chapter than human beings are technically allowed to have with anything at anytime in any fashion or manner whatsoever by any stretch of the imagination. But I'm not going there. It was funny to watch Moore alternating wildly between laughing insanely and writhing on the floor in agony though . . .
At this point I started feeling very hungry, and I just generally had an urge to get back to work on my speech. So I told everyone to come over to my room so we could eat Cheerios and write me a speech. When we got to my room we simplified the plan a bit . . . and just ate Cheerios. And jammed with the rockingest Christmas music ever.
No, I got a bit of work done. Then Scholl left, and I got even more work done. Then Moore fell asleep on my bed while reading Charles Williams, and Wilson finished his reading and went back to his room to write things and I got still more work done. And the work continued, and I wasn't tired, and Moore slept on, and I decided that sleep would not be on my menu . . . just to see what would happen. The speech got done and corrected at about 3:30. So I read more Williams. And I read stuff for Bib Lit. And I read stuff for English Lit. And Moore slept on. I guess it was about 5:45 when he woke up enough to realize two important things. First, he was not in his own bed. Second, it was 5:45 in the freaking morning. He left (if you can call it that . . . he was more sort of just not there anymore).
And the band played on. Finally, I noticed that Martinez was up, and I bade him a good morning (because any morning is good when I haven't had to get up). And he bade me a morning back. We went to breakfast at the usual 7:15. Wilson was already there. I could easily tell on the walk over that things were looking bad for my chances at mantaining a semblence of the spark of life within me during the course of the day. I wasn't quite dead, but I didn't want to have to keep reassuring people of that fact.
So I downed a tall glass and a half of Mr. Pibb at breakfast. And bought myself another Pibb Xtra at that same vending machine from the night before and drank nearly half of it as fast as I could. By the time it was 10 minutes before class, I was . . . hmmm . . . What goes beyond wired? Martinez sat there, watching my wonderful performance, and decided that I wasn't allowed to sleep anymore. The little act was far too entertaining.
I sat on the table in the back of the room during Bib Lit, pretty much bouncing up and down and swinging my legs the whole time. I was the most visible person in the room to Woodring, but no one else could see me without turning around. And Woodring already knows about me . . . I'm still not sure whether he actually likes it when I'm awake in Bib Lit, because I generally end up answering all of his questions. Today was no exception, but my answers had the special, sugar-induced flair to them as well. And I was really holding back. I stopped myself leaping out of my seat and yelling every five seconds (that was rough). I refrained from a lively chorus of "Tradition!" when he talked about the role of tradition in Jewish law beginning in the Intertestamental period (that was the roughest). I glanced at Martinez every now and then, but he was doing his best "nodding off" impression, and just generally avoided looking my way. If Woodring noticed anything unusual, he didn't say anything. Must be getting used to me . . . I'll just have to come up with something even more weird.
I finished the rest of my Pibb Xtra in Western Civ and managed to keep from nodding until there were only twenty minutes left . . . a new record! Does that mean I remember a word he said? No. Except for a few choice quotes on chili, that is:
Dr. K: "Dr. Watson won our chili cook-off last year. Apparently he almost killed his dog, and wound up in the hospital himself. We had this year's cook-off on Saturday, and I think his chili is responsible for the loss of the cap on my molar. If Dr. Watson ever invites you over for dinner, find out if he's serving chili before you go." The image of Dr. K trying Dr. W's chili . . . the look on his face after he choked it down (along with a molar cap) . . . and the subsequent expression of mischevious glee on Dr. Watson's face combined effectively to completely crack me up for a good five minutes. I tried to be quiet, and I think I was generally successful.
Then there was lunch (more Mr. Pibb! I am sooo drinking chocolate milk at supper) followed by Speech. I was accompanied to Speech by another 20 oz. of Coke. Plus, the first speaker gave out chocolate chip cookies. And everyone could tell that I was acting funny. I didn't stop twitching at all the entire time and I was pacing the back of the room like crazy right up until class started. There were a lot of enjoyable speeches, including an excellent one about Harry Potter. It was very well presented . . . I'd like a copy of his Power Point presentation.
I was sure I'd gotten off easy this time when he said we only had time for one more and started feeling around amongst the five blue cases in the center of the row (I don't suppose I mentioned that the order we spoke in was determined by random selection of your video tape, mine being in a purple and black case). Then suddenly his hand strays a little far to the left and he snags mine. Suck.
My Disclaimer (delivered as I took the podium): "I haven't slept in 26 hours and I'm running completely on sugar and caffeine right now, soI'mtryingrealhardtotalkslower."
Payton: "Well, it's a wonder we got you up out of your seat then."
Me: "Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyup!" *Turn slightly towards him, widen eyes a little TOO much, suck air in loudly through gritted teeth and lips parted in a grin, and slap palms of hands together, rubbing together faster and faster until the noise is reasonably audible.*
I think it was probably at that point that the rest of the class realized just how special my speech was going to be. And it was very special. But you had to have been there, and I'm not in the mood to bore anyone (like myself) by putting down the details. It has been 36 hours since my head touched a pillow, and I'm going to bed. Good night, y'all.