about the talking fish

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Writer. Wheelman. Occasional DIY mechanic. Walking collection of hang-ups. Hopeless romantic. Old-school. Analog soul in a digital world. I am all of these things and more.

Wednesday, September 18, 2002

Yesterday was so fucked-up.

I absolutely could not sleep. I was awake on an entire 6-hour stretch, eating up most of what should've been all-important sleep especially since I just recovered from exhaustion-induced fever. No matter what I did---read, listen to music, watch late-night TV, call Pam, eat breadsticks---I just could not sleep even at 4am.

I woke up from a horrible 90-minute dose of kip with a massive headache, which surprisingly dissipated while I was driving myself and my sister to school. It didn't manifest itself too much while I was in class too. Getting home, however, was another story. I actually felt my temperature rising while I was crankily navigating myself through flood and traffic-ridden streets, and it didn't help that my windshield and windows were constantly fogging up while I was on the Skyway. Imagine driving with that.

Sure enough I got home to a mercury column kissing the 38-degree mark. I was sick. AGAIN. So last night, I made it a point to sleep as early as possible since we had only one morning class. And right now, I'm home because I drove back ASAP and promised to fetch my sister instead.

I feel a lot better but I can't seem to get rid of my headache.
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My Net connection isn't working! Damnit! How am I supposed to do research on German expressionism for my Film class' reaction paper due tomorrow?!
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Thanks for the help, Pam. Was nice seeing you again, love.

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