Friday, September 24, 2004
Close my eyes and hope that it's a real smooth flight, this time...
The strange puritanical side of my liberal ego took a hit recently. As readers probably know, I try and keep unneeded chemicals out of my system: no alchohol, no drugs, no caffeine, etc.
I lost a small battle last week. Being wary of what goes into my body, I've always tried to avoid caffeine in liquid form. I had bad experiences as a child of fatigue crossing badly with this substance, so I had sworn off it long ago.
Because I don't have the usual kick that so many people take advantage of, despite having decent amounts of sleep in the past, I'm prone to dozing a bit in class. I never give up and put my head down, but often, despite attempting to be attentive and interested, my head will sink just a little and my eyes will drift open and close.
I've put up with it off and on the past few years, accepting that teachers understand things aren't easy, and that I still look ok because I'm actually fighting it, but this year, as my average sleep cycle has decreased by an hour, to about 5 hours a night, I've found myself doing it far too often. Maybe typing about it in a blog is counter productive, but I need to rinse off my brain at the end of a day.
Now I buy a six pack of Starbuck's Moca Frappuchinos a week. Right before my first class of each day I ingest one of these things, to initial dislike and now moderate indifference. The results are mixed. I have a significantly greater but not a garuanteed chance of staying awake in class. When I do stay awake, I'm not usually in a great condition to pay attention. The first day I tried it my vision was blurry, which may or may not have been a result of the caffeine.
My reactions shouldn't vary on a day by day basis, because the body never becomes psyiologically "used" to caffeine (i.e. it has the same kick each and every time). I try to keep to one bottle (98 mg caffeine) a day, for over that I've often readthat caffeine can start doing some bad things. I've worked a good many years to have a nice, strong heart, and don't need to go screwing it up anytime soon.
The potential for irregular heartbeats aside, the psychological affects of caffeine are notable. Except for a semi-nightmare on Monday night, I've ceased to dream, or at least remember that I'm dreaming. That worries me, because I'm usually a pretty vivid and diverse dreamer, and now that's gone.
I'm not comforted by the presence of caffiene at all. It doesn't remove fatigue... it just blocks you from it temporarily. You can feel it outside, waiting for you. It makes evenings like these really strange and lonely, for I almost feel like I'm cut off from the world by this seriously fucked up chemical.
I hate it, but I need it, so it remains with me for the time being.
Some small links on the effects of caffeine:
Your Brain on Frappuccino
http://www.wifr.com/news/features/4/388991.html
I lost a small battle last week. Being wary of what goes into my body, I've always tried to avoid caffeine in liquid form. I had bad experiences as a child of fatigue crossing badly with this substance, so I had sworn off it long ago.
Because I don't have the usual kick that so many people take advantage of, despite having decent amounts of sleep in the past, I'm prone to dozing a bit in class. I never give up and put my head down, but often, despite attempting to be attentive and interested, my head will sink just a little and my eyes will drift open and close.
I've put up with it off and on the past few years, accepting that teachers understand things aren't easy, and that I still look ok because I'm actually fighting it, but this year, as my average sleep cycle has decreased by an hour, to about 5 hours a night, I've found myself doing it far too often. Maybe typing about it in a blog is counter productive, but I need to rinse off my brain at the end of a day.
Now I buy a six pack of Starbuck's Moca Frappuchinos a week. Right before my first class of each day I ingest one of these things, to initial dislike and now moderate indifference. The results are mixed. I have a significantly greater but not a garuanteed chance of staying awake in class. When I do stay awake, I'm not usually in a great condition to pay attention. The first day I tried it my vision was blurry, which may or may not have been a result of the caffeine.
My reactions shouldn't vary on a day by day basis, because the body never becomes psyiologically "used" to caffeine (i.e. it has the same kick each and every time). I try to keep to one bottle (98 mg caffeine) a day, for over that I've often readthat caffeine can start doing some bad things. I've worked a good many years to have a nice, strong heart, and don't need to go screwing it up anytime soon.
The potential for irregular heartbeats aside, the psychological affects of caffeine are notable. Except for a semi-nightmare on Monday night, I've ceased to dream, or at least remember that I'm dreaming. That worries me, because I'm usually a pretty vivid and diverse dreamer, and now that's gone.
I'm not comforted by the presence of caffiene at all. It doesn't remove fatigue... it just blocks you from it temporarily. You can feel it outside, waiting for you. It makes evenings like these really strange and lonely, for I almost feel like I'm cut off from the world by this seriously fucked up chemical.
I hate it, but I need it, so it remains with me for the time being.
Some small links on the effects of caffeine:
Your Brain on Frappuccino
http://www.wifr.com/news/features/4/388991.html
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Let's walk home, let's be afraid
I'm not much of a lyrics blogger, but as I've been thinking about all that still has to be done this semester, and how it'll almost be over after December, and all the millions of other things going on in my head, this song keeps resonating in my head.
Soon ends our stay here and it's been fun
So tonight I'll raise my glass to us
'cause we've talked so much
I think we filled this ashtray twice, and I'm pretty sure
we emptied every bottle in the place,
so
Let's walk home,
let's be afraid
wanna grab you by the arms and kiss you
so hard
Let's do it right
under the streetlight
I want it now, somehow I forgot how
Way to go, way to go
Forgot you've got so far to go
Way to go, way to go
Forgot you've got so far to go
I heard everybody's voice cut out when you spoke
And I watched all the lights go dim
when your eyes opened
Well I can't believe you showed up, what do I do now?
It's last call, time to go
But before we say goodnight
Let's walk home, let's be afraid
I wanna grab you by the arms and kiss you so hard
Let's do it right under the streetlight
I want it now, somehow I forgot how
Way to go, way to go
Forgot you've got so far to go
Way to go, way to go
Forgot you've got so far to go
Forgot you've got so far, you've got so far to go
Monday, September 20, 2004
Fighting my way out of the corner
My hands were dry as hell. Usually, when I'm extremely nervous, my hands often sweat a little bit, but this time they were really dry. So was my mouth. Every two minutes I'd walk out of the Honors office to have a sip of water from the fountain in the hallway. Then I'd come back, sit down, and stare at the door at the conference room.
They had been in there for 15 minutes, and I was getting impatient. Suddenly the door opened, and Dr. Wainscott motioned with one hand for me to enter.
I had already met everyone on the committee, 15 minutes earlier when they first came in, so there were no real surprises. Despite having had a drink two minutes earlier, my mouth dried up again as I sat down.
They interrogated me, and it wasn't pretty. I started off slow... bland, possibly disappointing. Someone would ask me a question, and mid-way through my answer the next person would pick at what I just said. Every move I made, there were five moves being made to counter me. I hated it, but I welcomed it.
It took one small success for me to at least get a breather. Dr. Tamura, one of my former professors from the economics department, would not easily accept my concern for world poverty. I thought he would be pleased that I was trying to get a scholarship so I could get a degree in development economics, but he wasn't ready to let go just yet:
“So what do you suggest we do about all this poverty? How exactly would you fix it all?”
I thought about his question for a moment.
“I don't know, wasn't that was the point of going to Oxford to learn development?” I answered.
It got me a chuckle from around the table, as they saw I was beginning to fight back a little. It also got me a chance to catch my breath. I didn't mean to be sarcastic with him, but it just came out.
They continued to throw worldly conundrums at me. So why is poverty really that bad? In terms of the British Royal Family, was I a republican or a monarchist? What did I mean by 'Modern cinema'? Who was the worst man in history, Osama, Stalin, or Hitler? What did I think about the legality of downloading music?
I was starting to have fun by the end. They were clearly trying to break me down in order to provoke me... to get me to think. I got a little too defensive at times, as often I felt they had misstated something I said earlier, so I felt the need to correct them.
After half an hour had passed, Wainscott stopped the conversation, and sent me out of the room.
When they let me back in, they told me that they were going to let me apply for the Marshall, but there were quite a few things I'd have to change beforehand...
They had been in there for 15 minutes, and I was getting impatient. Suddenly the door opened, and Dr. Wainscott motioned with one hand for me to enter.
I had already met everyone on the committee, 15 minutes earlier when they first came in, so there were no real surprises. Despite having had a drink two minutes earlier, my mouth dried up again as I sat down.
They interrogated me, and it wasn't pretty. I started off slow... bland, possibly disappointing. Someone would ask me a question, and mid-way through my answer the next person would pick at what I just said. Every move I made, there were five moves being made to counter me. I hated it, but I welcomed it.
It took one small success for me to at least get a breather. Dr. Tamura, one of my former professors from the economics department, would not easily accept my concern for world poverty. I thought he would be pleased that I was trying to get a scholarship so I could get a degree in development economics, but he wasn't ready to let go just yet:
“So what do you suggest we do about all this poverty? How exactly would you fix it all?”
I thought about his question for a moment.
“I don't know, wasn't that was the point of going to Oxford to learn development?” I answered.
It got me a chuckle from around the table, as they saw I was beginning to fight back a little. It also got me a chance to catch my breath. I didn't mean to be sarcastic with him, but it just came out.
They continued to throw worldly conundrums at me. So why is poverty really that bad? In terms of the British Royal Family, was I a republican or a monarchist? What did I mean by 'Modern cinema'? Who was the worst man in history, Osama, Stalin, or Hitler? What did I think about the legality of downloading music?
I was starting to have fun by the end. They were clearly trying to break me down in order to provoke me... to get me to think. I got a little too defensive at times, as often I felt they had misstated something I said earlier, so I felt the need to correct them.
After half an hour had passed, Wainscott stopped the conversation, and sent me out of the room.
When they let me back in, they told me that they were going to let me apply for the Marshall, but there were quite a few things I'd have to change beforehand...
