Less Than One Hundred Words

Is this what it's boiled down to?

The shortest possible day when I need it the most? A clogged up nose when I need my air the most? Ten things to do when I need to focus on one?

Not being able to focus when I need to be top notch?

A Red Apple to nibble on

I go to bed early, since I made a strong resolution to finally get some sleep. Midnight isn't even close yet and it puts a grin on my face. I might go to bed before midnight one day. Yay.

Even though the shutters are down, I can see light being turned off and on in the back yard. It's all white outside, so it shines even brighter when the goofiest dog in the world walks by the sensor and turns the light bulb on.

I can turn the blinds all the way down, but then there's a risk of sleeping in and waking up at four in the afternoon the next day ― or should I say evening, since that's when it's already dark. That would make a full circle indeed.

So, I write some emails, say hi to some friends, watch another lame Hollywood blockbuster (I really have to make myself stop doing that) and it's two already. So much for sleeping. I can barely keep my eyes open to push the laptop away and I doze off. And not in a good way.

I keep waking up during the night, since I obviously kick the covers off and freeze my ass off. I have these insane dreams ― all the time. I'm in India, but there's someone there to take me away. Or I'm going somewhere, but someone stops me. Or I'm enjoying my friends' company, but someone immensely creepy slides in. Or I'm being chased ― that happens often.

I wake up for what seems the seventh time, still unaware of how late or early it is. I swear at myself for being such a lame person to subject my life to that of a dog. And it's not even my dog.

My eyes are still half shut and I'm too paranoid to turn the light on and check the time. Even when I pick up my phone to check it out, the light is too bright. And it wouldn't change anything anyway.

[The dog is barking like mad as I'm typing this...]

I've been waking up early lately. Well, earlier than usual. Although it's late. If that makes any sense. I wake up a couple of minutes before the buzzer goes wild. I can sleep twenty hours a day, so you can imagine why I find it so disturbing.

And it happens this morning as well. So I lie on my back and try to figure out how much light there is outside. I'm thinking how many seconds will pass until the alarm goes off. I count up to five and I'm bored already.

There's a door bell and someone walking down the stairs. A phone rings, some neighbours are chatting and I'm pissed off. Once again I'm letting my life be less important than others'. One day I'll hit the headlines under Ran berserk towards two neighbours with a lighter and a can of hair spray. Presumably on a windy day, so I'd just end up locked up with people who talk to their toes. Maybe they'd stuff me with Eszopiclone, Zaleplon and Zolpidem and then I'd finally get some sleep.

It feels surreal and suddenly I see images from Fight Club. Is this me? Or a copy? Have I seen it in the film, or maybe it was a dream. Did I dream about it? I try to make some sense out of all those images, but I can't even remember glimpses of them ― they're all mashed up and blurry.

In the end, the resolution I've made turns into the tiniest possible resolution you can imagine ― 5x7 pixels or something around that size. My whole visible spectre has boiled down to 35 dots that are just a bit brighter than complete darkness. I can't see anything in it, especially when I don't get my sleep.

Uni business

There's seven of them, piled one upon the other and clutched in between my torso and both my interwoven hands as I struggle through the corridors. It's funny how people treat you differently when you've got a bunch of books on you and when you seem to be doing some serious work. Only seem.

They see people walk around zipped up like Inuits, with mittens and backpacks filled with notes , eyes tearing from the dreadful cold. The automatic glass doors seem like a Siberian oasis of warm air-conditioned utopia, even if they're opening half way. [Utopia and university are kind of an oxymoron, but what the hell.]

Still, as soon as you take your coat off and grab a couple of books, Head of Department all of a sudden slows down to throw in a Hi! I find that funny. When you're a regular student, no one cares and you're only a number, but as soon as you clear your last exams, those same people start asking you if you might be interested in some scientific work.

Yes, I passed the two final exams I had left. Generative grammar and the written part of the Final exam in Comparative Indo-European Philology. It's been a while since I've tried to clear them and now that part is over at last. I've only got the oral part next Wednesday, but I hope there won't be much problem with that.

I'm reading The ancient languages of the Balkans, which I'm supposed to elaborate, comment and discuss in order to prove that I can handle scientific literature in a foreign language. Fingers crossed that it goes well and that I have a bit of a more peaceful Christmas break.

I'm at the uni at the moment, sitting at my mentor's computer, scanning the already-mentioned books and cropping up some photos I might use in my final thesis. Oh yeah, I have to write that too. I've got a decent amount of literature piled up already, which is now finally ― due to the passing of the last exams ― being de-dusted and leafed through.

I think I might as well grab the books again and make a couple of rounds around the uni ― maybe someone offers me a job or a scientific project or at least a cup of coffee. People are so funny.

I'll try to use this winter break wisely ― read up a bit more, look for some more sources, come up with a skeleton for my thesis and, hopefully, get it over with quite soon. I can't bare these gloomy hallways and the same (also gloomy), almost furniture-like people around here.

People literally get lost here, even after studying for years and eventually continuing to work. Someone says B-312 and you find all five of your interlocutors pointing in a different direction. I like to do that out of fun ― flash people with room numbers.

I can barely hear some Iranian music youtubeing over the buzzing sound of the scanner, mixed with some voices from next door and cars being started outside, in order to get defrosted before being taken out into the street. Still, my stomach is making clear and painfully loud noise, easily recognizable even through the plethora of sounds...

Waiting...

Jeez, I'm boring myself with the struggle whether to write or not. The idea wobbles through my head like a total Indian [please read with cerebrals, accompanied by a, well, head wobble] and it's annoying as a vine fly. On ecstasy. And Red Bull.

I hate not having time. The time to check some blogs that I like to check out or to write some of my own crap; to simply stare at the blank space where the post is supposed to appear. But I hate something even more ― not actually doing anything that makes me not have time. It's just small things which, by the mighty-hated Murphy law, take at least five hours. Going to the bank or trying to catch a certain professor at the uni; looking for new winter shoes ('cause it's been ages and my sneakers are water prone) or taking a power nap during the afternoon.

Are the days too short? Well, for fuck's sake, yes! It's complete dark by four. And it's -9. Minus. Nine. Mediterranean my ass! Five layers don't seem to cover it. I might as well move to Gdansk, if you know what I mean.

And what have I been doing? The same old shit. Staring at the same papers, translating the same words and trying to figure out the same old shit. I should try translating shit. Krap.

I wrote the final yesterday, again. I blanked out ― again ― and noobed up on the easiest question. One would think that someone already dealing with Indo-Europeistics for months would know which is the most widely-spread and famous theory about Indo-Europeans. Not me. My mind was a green meadow. Wide and sunny, with butterflies and daisies and all.

I was supposed to translate the verb to milk into Sanskrit. Think that's weird? No. What's weird is that I knew what it was in Greek, Latin, Old Slavic and Lithuanian. But no, I get Sanskrit. Dhanyavād! Feels like talking to myself really. I'm not sure anyone understands me...

Anyway, waiting for results. Eleven hours and counting. Not to mention that I have both exam on the same day. Again. Merry... Wednesday!

One Hundred Words: Winter

For the first time in my life I hear thunder while it's snowing.

The façade is wet from the diagonally-falling flakes and from what it looks like, it’s going to turn into a rather thick layer this time. That reminds me once more that I should go and buy some decent winter water-proof shoes or I’ll still be stuck having to carry extra socks in my backpack. Considering the fact that winter hasn’t officially even begun yet, that really does sound like a good idea.

I’ll just stay on the warmer side of the window for now. It’s much cozier.

Inspired by Bag Lady's and Mr London Street's 100 Words.